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Chapter 13
Throwing the door room open, Charles vaulted himself to his bed. He was man enough, and he was not going to let a tear flow from his eyes. How devious, malicious Lucy was and he hated her as much as he had loved her. He hugged his pillow to his chest, and squeezed his eyes shut. His jaw tightened, tears sting his eyes and his heart twisted that he almost felt it tear apart.
"Mr Spielberg, you called for me?" Constance said, bowing her head.
He groaned, and took a deep breath. "What do you think, Constance? Do you think this is my fate?"
Constance furrowed her brows in confusion. "What fate?"
He turned to face her, his blue eyes soaked. "Lucy is married. She has a daughter and she's pregnant. She used me."
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