Chapter 4

I had intended to go straight upstairs, but Horton looked up and saw me. His smile vanished.

"You're finally back. Luca waited two hours for his late-night snack."

"I made him some little cookies and warm milk," Millie interjected innocently. "He said he liked them a lot."

I glanced at the exquisite little treats on the coffee table, each one up to the standard of a five-star hotel.

I stopped, turning wearily. My voice was lifeless. "It seems you've already handled it. I can give my recipes to Millie. You'll have a replacement after I'm gone."

Horton slammed his glass down on the marble tabletop, the sharp sound slicing through the air.

"Christine. It seems I've been too lenient with you. Have you forgotten your place?" He rose from the sofa, his fingers clamping around my wrist like a vise, squeezing until I thought the bone would splinter.

"Did you really think I wouldn't dare to shut you up for good?"

I knew he would. He had never had an ounce of affection for me. Not a single drop.

The only reason he hadn't disposed of me yet was likely that damn contract and his son. He needed to play the part of a devoted husband for the outside world.

I forced myself to remain calm, looking him straight in the eye. "Why don't you ask your precious son what he wants?"

Just then, Luca's voice piped up from the sofa.

"Dad, I've wanted you to get rid of this woman for ages! I hate her! I like Millie more. She's a million times better than the murderer who killed my mom!"

Millie put a theatrical hand to his mouth. "Goodness, Luca, you shouldn't say such things..."

"Let him speak," I said, looking at Horton. "Since you and Luca both like Millie so much, why not make her the new Mrs. Falcone? The timing is perfect. Our contract is over."

Horton's brow furrowed into a deep knot. He ordered the butler to take Luca back to his room.

"Who do you think you're talking to? Are you that eager to push me onto another woman?"

I looked at him, genuinely confused. What on earth did he mean by that? Five years after Seraphina's death, he had finally found a perfect replica, one so similar it was breathtaking. Shouldn't he be ecstatic?

Horton's face grew darker. He pulled Millie directly in front of him.

"You want me to marry her?" His voice was low, but it sent a chill down my spine. "Then as you wish."

He pulled a small velvet box from his suit pocket. Inside was the ruby ring of the Falcone matriarch. He shoved it onto Millie's finger, right in front of me.

I had tried on that ring in front of the mirror countless times, imagining the day I might truly own it.

But I never expected the first time I would see it up close would be on another woman's hand.

I watched as Horton swept a tearfully joyous Millie into his arms and strode like a conqueror toward the master bedroom.

And for all the times he'd used my body to vent his frustrations, he had never once allowed me into the master bedroom.

The door slammed shut, and soon, raw, carnal sounds echoed from within.

My heart turned to ash in my chest.

I thought I had never come to this family for love, only to repay the Rossi family's blood debt. But watching this scene unfold, my eyes still stung uncontrollably.

So be it. I had never dared to hope for anything more anyway. I should be happy for him. He had finally found a perfect replica who looked more like Seraphina than I did.

He had to be satisfied. After all, Millie's skills in bed were probably far better than mine.

I glanced at my watch. The car I had booked was arriving soon.

I quietly placed the signed termination agreement on the coffee table, picked up my already packed suitcase, and walked toward the front door.

But just as I reached the foyer, Luca blocked my path like a little demon.

He kicked my suitcase, sending it flying.

"What, a few harsh words scared you off?" His voice was laced with the cruelty unique to the Falcone bloodline.

"You think this pathetic little trick will get my dad's attention? You think he's going to chase after you and beg you to come back like in some stupid movie? You're utterly pathetic."

I said nothing. I just silently knelt down to pick up my scattered belongings.

Among them, a pale blue cashmere sweater lay quietly on the rug.

It was the one my sister, Seraphina, had knitted for Luca with her own hands before she died.

She had spent three whole months on it, stitch by stitch.

"When Luca gets a little older, he's going to love this sweater," she had once told me.

He had never worn it in all these years. I thought he didn't care about it, and since my sister had left so few things behind, I decided to take it with me as a memento.

I never imagined the sight of that sweater would make him freeze.

His face turned deathly pale, then flushed a deep crimson.

"You bitch! What right do you have to take my mother's things!" he screamed. A raw nerve had been struck. He lunged at me from behind.

With all the strength his small body could muster, Luca shoved me hard from behind. Caught completely off guard, I lost my balance and stumbled forward.

And right in my path was the massive stone fireplace, its sharp corner waiting for me like a blade.