Chapter 3 - The Mask Slips
On the monitor, Regina’s elegant demeanor vanished the second the door clicked shut behind her.
The sweet, gentle smile she wore for my benefit melted into an expression of cold, sharp impatience. She stepped across the room in her Louboutin heels, casting a look of utter disgust down at the children playing on the rug.
Julieta stiffened, gently setting Noah down and rising to her feet, keeping her gloved hands clasped in front of her.
“Ms. Ashford,” Julieta said, her voice neutral.
“Don't use that tone with me, little maid,” Regina snapped, her voice carrying clearly through the high-definition audio feed on my desk. “Emilio is buying me a house in Lincoln Park next month. Once we're married, you and these brats are the first things I'm throwing out into the cold.”
Julieta didn't flinch. She kept her chin lowered. “Mr. Verona cares deeply for his children, Ms. Ashford.”
“He cares about his empire,” Regina sneered, walking over to the mantelpiece and inspecting her diamond-ringed fingers in the mirror. “He tolerates them because they carry his name. And once I give him a legitimate heir, these two little accidents will be shipped off to boarding school in Switzerland so fast their heads will spin.”
Noah whimpered, sensing the hostility in the air, and reached out for Julieta's skirt.
Julieta stepped back, shielding the boy with her body. “Please, Ms. Ashford. Don't speak like that near them.”
“Don't tell me what to do!” Regina hissed, spinning around. Her face twisted into an ugly, vindictive snarl. In one swift, practiced movement, she raised her own hand, slapped her own left forearm hard against the sharp corner of the oak side table, and then deliberately shoved her arm against the brick fireplace edge until a fresh, dark bruise formed.
I stared at the screen, my blood turning to liquid nitrogen.
She did it to herself.
The bruise on her arm—the one she had claimed Julieta gave her—was entirely self-inflicted. A theatrical stunt designed to manufacture a crisis, push the nanny out, and establish absolute control over my household before the wedding.
On the screen, Regina gasped dramatically, clutching her arm as if in agonizing pain, and then looked directly up at the corner of the ceiling where she knew the old decorative smoke detector sat.
She didn't know about the new hidden camera lens nestled inside the recessed lighting fixture right above her head.
“You pushed me!” Regina shrieked at the top of her lungs, pitching her voice to sound terrified and distressed. “You crazy bitch! I’m going to tell Emilio right now! He’ll throw you in the river before nightfall!”
Julieta stood frozen, her hands trembling inside the rubber cleaning gloves. “I didn't touch you. You did that to yourself.”
“Who do you think he’ll believe?!” Regina laughed hysterically, smoothing down her designer blouse. “A migrant nanny with no family, or his stunning, high-society fiancée? Pack your bags, Julieta. Your time in this house is finished.”
Regina turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy oak door behind her.
In my private office forty-two floors above Chicago, I sat completely still.
My breathing was shallow. My hands rested flat on the mahogany desk. The man who negotiated blood and territory without raising his voice was gone.
In his place stood a father whose children had been threatened, and a man whose pride had been manipulated by a cheap, manipulative liar.
I reached out slowly, picked up my encrypted phone, and dialed a single three-digit extension.
“Marco,” I said.
“Boss?” my head of security answered instantly.
“Cancel my 9:00 AM meeting tomorrow.”
May you like
“Is something wrong?”
“Everything is wrong, Marco,” I whispered, my voice cutting through the speaker like a razor blade. “Bring the black SUV around to the lobby. I’m coming home early.”
