Tears welled up again, sliding down her pale cheeks. In that endless, agonizing silence, it felt like someone ripped my heart out and roasted it over flames.
"Yes..." she finally whispered. "Stella is Marco's child."
In that moment, my whole world crumbled. Rage threatened to tear me apart from the inside. I'd searched for her for five years, thought of her every day, and she'd given another man a kid. That blonde, blue-eyed little girl—I'd even wondered if she was mine, but she was really this bastard's blood.
"Then I definitely should kill him." My voice went eerily calm.
I turned back to Marco, watching fear widen in his eyes. The knife edged closer to his neck—
"Stop!" Elena lunged between us without hesitation.
My knife halted just before slicing into Marco's throat, only to avoid hurting her. I pulled it back, but the kill lust still boiled in my veins.
"Igor, you can't kill here!"
"Give me one reason—one fucking reason I shouldn't end this bastard," I ground out through clenched teeth. "He saw what he shouldn't, touched what he shouldn't, and you had his kid. And you and Marco aren't married, right? He's not the husband you want in your heart. I've been with you these days; I've seen it all—only you take care of Stella, so Marco's not even a decent father. That makes him deserve it more."
"But I owe him!" Elena shouted, tears blurring her face. "When I was at my lowest, most desperate, Marco took me in! Five years ago, on that Christmas night, you had another woman on your arm, throwing an engagement party with her, while I broke down alone inthe snow. Marco found me, got me out. For five years, he's taken care of me and Stella, so I won't let you kill him! Please... please spare him."
Her words slapped me hard, stinging like fire. She owed him. And it was all because of me. If I hadn't been a coward five years ago, hadn't chosen that damn alliance over her, she wouldn't have despaired, wouldn't have left, wouldn't owe anyone. I was the root of it all.
But that didn't change my urge to kill Marco.
"Leave the room, Elena." My voice stayed flat. "If you don't want to watch me kill him, get out now."
"No—"
I moved to pull Elena away, but just then, the door creaked open softly.
"Mommy..."
A tiny voice rang out, freezing me in place.
Stella stood in the doorway, rubbing her eyes with small hands. She wore a pink nightie, her blonde hair messy over her shoulders, like a little angel.
"I had a bad dream." Her blue eyes scanned the room, confusion clouding her small face. "Mommy, what are you guys doing?"
Chapter Seventeen
Elena
"Mommy, I had a nightmare."
"Mommy, what are you doing?"
Stella's voice—so soft, so innocent—pierced through the panic in my chest like a sharp needle. She stood in the doorway, rubbing her eyes, wearing her favorite teddy bear pajamas. I rushed to her side, crouched down, and pulled her tightly into my arms.
"It's okay, sweetheart. Mommy's here." My voice sounded calm, pretending nothing had happened. "They were just playing around. Let's go back to your room and sleep, okay?"
Stella yawned and lifted her little face to look at Igor and Marco. Her gaze swept over Marco's bruised and battered face, words forming but never spoken.
I looked at Igor with pleading eyes, hoping he would stop. In that moment, time seemed to freeze. This man who had just used violence and desire to dominate me—his expression finally shifted under my gaze.
"Mommy... were they fighting? Did Uncle Marco lose?" Stella asked curiously.
"No. Your mommy's right—we were just playing around." Igor'svoice was still low, but that savage edge had been dulled. He used the blade to cut through the silk scarves binding Marco.
Then Igor whispered something in Marco's ear. I could read his lips.
