Chapter 17
Curled up in the corner by the tub, still in the ruined remains of her gown, crying like a child left out in the rain. Eyes red, cheeks smeared, mascara bleeding down her jawline.
“Baby…” she choked, scrambling to her knees. “Please… listen to me. That video–it’s fake. It’s Al. Deepfake bullshit. She’s trying to ruin us. Our wedding. Our family-”
I slammed my fist into the mirror.
Shards exploded, one slicing my knuckle clean open. Blood dripped down my wrist, but I didn’t feel a damn thing.
“Was any of it real?” I growled, voice hoarse. “Or were you just the prettier lie?”
She flinched, I took a breath. Then another. But my chest didn’t stop burning.
“I killed my own child,” I whispered, staring at my reflection in the cracked mirror, “to protect the daughter that isn’t even mine.”
Silence.
She started crying harder.
“Favio–our daughter is yours. We can do a DNA test, please–don’t let her break us. Amelia’s manipulating everything. Don’t you see? She’s been setting this up for years. I–I love you, I’ve always loved you. I didn’t mean for any of this-”
“You’re a fucking disease,” I muttered, “You infected every corner of my life. You made me turn against the only woman who ever truly loved me.”
Caroline’s voice cracked, still trying to perform. “I did it because I love you. I just… I didn’t want to lose you again. I was scared.”
“You don’t get to use love as an excuse,” I snapped. “You manipulated me into killing what little soul I had left!”
She reached for me. “Favio-”
“Don’t.”
I turned to her, every nerve in my body screaming.
“She warned me about you.”
I said it cold, Flat.
“She told me you’d ‘crawl back into my life and burn it all down. I should’ve listened. I should’ve buried you the first time.”
“Favio–please.” She crawled toward me, hands on my legs. “You don’t mean that. I’m your wife now. We can fix this. Please, for our daughter-”
I yanked my phone off the counter and scrolled through the emails.
– Paris expansion: canceled.
-Versailles Holdings: withdrawn.
-LuxMode drops ambassador deal.
12:40 Tue, 24 Jun M
– Stock value down 31%.
* 97%
– Insider threat detected: Rodrigo–linked shell companies triggering collapse patterns across key subsidiaries.
Rodrigo.
Adrian Rodrigo.
Amelia planned this. She planted seeds, buried mines, fed wolves in tailored suits and let them circle us for years while I was too drunk on power and too stupid in love with an illusion to notice.
This wasn’t revenge.
This was a fucking campaign. A long game. A queen’s gambit. My empire was bleeding from the inside out.
All because I turned my back on the only woman who ever really saw me.
I walked away, into the bedroom, away from her crocodile sobs. I sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, and stared at nothing. My chest felt heavy–like someone poured concrete into it and let it harden.
I should’ve protected Amelia.
I should’ve saved her.
Instead–I pushed her. Down the fucking stairs.
The memory hit like a blade right in my ribs…
It was late. The house was quiet. I was on the phone, pacing. Caroline was sobbing through the speaker.
“They said I might not make it. The baby’s heartbeat is low… Favio, if I die, just know–I’ve always loved you more than she ever could…”
Manipulative. Sweet. Angelic voice trembling with just the right dose of drama.
Then I shoved Amelia. Not hard–I thought. Not enough to–But I watched her fall.
Her eyes locked with mine the moment her back hit the tiles. And she didn’t scream. That’s the worst part.
She didn’t scream.
She opened her mouth–but nothing came out. Just silence. Her fingers curled toward me, reaching… begging…
Begging me to save her
But I didn’t move.
Caroline’s voice was still in my ear, saying, “You made the right choice, baby. She never loved you like I do.”
I hung up. I didn’t even drive her to the hospital. Had Ryker to do it.
Next day, the doctor said the baby didn’t make it to Amelia. I said nothing. Because that
7/3
2018
12:40 Tue, 24 Jun M.
was the plan.
Just signed the paperwork. Just sent her home with bruises, a cold bed, and another bouquet of goddamn sunflowers. Even when she told me they made her sneeze, I still kept sending them because that was Caroline’s favorite.
“They look better in photos,” I once told her, smirking, handing them over while she was rubbing her nose and trying not to cry.
Fuck.
I covered my face with both hands.
I remembered how she used to take care of me when I got sick. How she’d sit at my bedside for hours. Holding my hand through the fever, wiping my forehead, telling me stories just to keep me calm.
Caroline? She never did that shit once. She’d disappear. Go to her spa retreats. Send a
nurse.
But Amelia?
She was there.
Every time.
