Chapter 3

Kiva’s POV

If Samatha knew whose daughter she was mocking now, she wouldn’t be smiling at all.

I ignored her and focused on my meal. But that seemed to irritate her more.

Samatha stood a minute later and approached me, wineglass in hand. “Kiva, right?”

I looked up but say a word.

Samatha leaned closer. “I know you’re not his cousin. You’re his ex. Still, I’m willing to give you some money. Because honestly? Look at you. I pity you.”

The word pity hit harder than I expected.

After the accident, everyone looked at me with it. I hated being pitied more than anything in the world.

“Is that so?” I asked quietly.

Samatha’s smile faltered—just for a second, then she recovered.

“Will ten thousand be enough?” Her gaze swept over me. “Or is that too much? Maybe a thousand is safer. You could buy bread every day. That should last you a while.”

I didn’t look away. “I thought people like you could afford more than that. What—did your father not give you enough allowance, so you had to marry yourself off to a man like Caelen?”

“You—” Samantha’s face twisted. “I don’t understand why a cripple like you thinks she can talk to me this way. I could crush you like an ant. Do you know that?”

Slowly, deliberately, she tipped her glass.

Wine spilled down over my hair, my shoulders—dripping, soaking.

“Like this,” Samatha smiled softly. “Bit by bit. Until your life is ruined.”

I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my own glass and flung it straight into her face.

Samantha screamed. “Bitch!”

“Samantha!”

Caelen and Marnie rushed over at once. Marnie shrieked and overturned an entire bucket of ice water over me. “How dare you treat my daughter-in-law like this, you crippled, useless woman!”

“Mom!” Caelen grabbed her arm, trying to stop her—but she was already lunging forward, eyes wild.

“I’ve endured you long enough!” she shouted. “Hasn’t my son taken care of you for years? Why can’t you just let him be happy? Why do you always ruin everything, you crippled freak?”

I barely recognized her.

This was the same woman who once wheeled me through the park in the sunshine. Who smiled at me like I was family. She reminded me of my own mother—that was why I trusted Caelen and helped him more than I should.

Now she was unrecognizable.

“How did you even get into this restaurant?” Marnie went on. “Did you use my son’s money? So you’re not just crippled and useless—you’re a gold digger too? Is this what he worked so hard for? So you could eat and sleep in places you don’t deserve?”

Marnie’s words tore at every raw place inside me. But I didn’t look at her. I kept my eyes on Caelen, searching his face for anything—guilt, shame, even the smallest trace of decency.

Say something, Caelen, I begged silently. Stop them. Don’t let them turn my pain into a joke. I deserve better than this.

But the only thing Caelen did was to hold Marnie back… and let her keep going.

I sat through ten straight minutes of Marnie’s shouting. She didn’t stop until the waiter returned.

“If this kind of place lets freaks like her in,” Samantha snapped, “then we won’t be dining here again.”

She shoved Caelen aside and stormed out. He and Marnie followed without a glance back.

Samantha had a stain. I was drenched, wine and ice water dripping down my blouse, pooling beneath my wheelchair.

“Oh my, Miss Crowe—what happened?” The manager had just stepped in, alarmed.

“Nothing.” I took the towel from the waiter and began drying my hair, my voice calm. “Wheel me back to my suite.”

“Miss Crowe…” The manager hesitated, stepping in to push me gently toward the doors. “If those guests did this to you, we can remove them from the property immediately. Just say the word.”

Remove them? How generous.

I looked straight ahead. “That’s alright,” I said softly. “I’ll let you know if I want that.”

…

For the next two days, I enjoyed everything the villa offered its most elite guests. I kept my distance from Caelen and his mother. I had no interest in crossing paths with them again.

When Saturday came, Caelen showed up at my suite.

“Samantha wants to leave early,” he said. “And you know I promised to take you back to New York. Do you want to come with us?”

I nodded. “Give me a few minutes to pack. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Of course, I had no intention of leaving with Caelen.

The money transfer had gone through yesterday. And since luxury hotels didn’t charge until checkout—just froze the card on arrival—I figured it’d be fun to watch Caelen panic later, making a fool of himself when he realized he couldn’t even pay his room bill.

After Caelen left, I called my father and had his helicopter prepped. Once the show was over, I planned to leave straight from the villa.

When I reached the lobby, I didn’t even have to look around to know where Caelen was.

“Swipe it again!” he shouted. “There’s nothing wrong with my card—your machine is broken!”

I wheeled closer and saw him yelling at the front desk staff.

“Sir, please lower your voice,” the lobby manager said calmly. “I can try again, but our system is functioning normally. You may want to contact your bank.”

“You—”

“Enough,” Samantha snapped, yanking him back. “Haven’t you embarrassed us enough? Call the bank.”

Caelen’s face flushed. He pulled out his phone, hesitated, then dialed.