“Don’t worry,” he said, voice low. “I’ll be brief. Your little game is over, Valentina. Like I said—both of us know what your real objective is.” He tilted his head. “So let’s get to the only question that matters.”
His mouth curved, just slightly.
“How much do you want?”
My blood turned cold.
“How much… I want?” I repeated, the words echoing like something obscene.
He arched a brow, wearing that familiar superiority like it was stitched into his skin—like I was a stubborn child refusing to accept reality.
“Exactly. Money is what you always wanted from me, isn’t it?” His voice sharpened, cruelly confident. “You couldn’t get it through a marriage. You couldn’t get it by inventing a pregnancy, so you decided interfering in my business would get you paid.” His gaze raked over me like a verdict. “I’ll give you this—you’re persistent. So spare me the performance and name your price.”
I took a step back until my spine met the cold kitchen counter.
Pain sliced through me as I stared at him—trying to understand how he could truly believe that about me after everything.
But the bitter truth was… I wasn’t surprised.
Not really.
What he did in that church had made it clear: this was all he had ever believed I was. A manipulator. A gold-digger. A liar.
“You really haven’t changed at all, have you?” I whispered, my tone sharper than I intended. “You—”
I couldn’t finish.
He moved closer again, reducing the distance between us to less than a foot. Thirty centimeters. My breath shortened.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like this,” he said softly, poison disguised as intimacy. “You’ve spent a long time perfecting the art of looking innocent while negotiating a good deal. I’m just saving you time and offering you what you’ve been after since the beginning.”
The hurt inside me started to vibrate—turning into anger, spilling over, rising so fast it took my breath.
My hands trembled.
“How dare you?” My voice rose despite myself, indignation ripping through control. “Who do you think you are, coming into my house and insulting me like this?” I pointed at him like he was the contamination. “Money is all you understand, Enrico—not me. If anyone here is trying to solve everything with money, it’s you!”
His eyes flashed as he leaned in, close enough that I felt his warm breath against my skin. His cologne was absurdly expensive, sharp and familiar in a way that made my stomach turn.
“Stop playing the victim,” he murmured. “You know exactly what you did to deserve every word I’m saying.” His voice hardened. “And I’m here offering you an easy way out. Take the money and disappear from my life. Don’t make this harder than you already have.”
“The only hard thing here is listening to you!” I snapped. “If you think you can buy my dignity, you’re wasting your time.” My voice broke with fury. “I don’t want your dirty money, Enrico. I didn’t want it then, and I sure as hell don’t want it now!”
His fists clenched at his sides. He took a firm step forward, forcing me back against the counter, trapping me with sheer size and dominance.
“Dirty?” he bit out. “My money is dirty?” His eyes cut into me. “Then what does that make you?”
Something inside me cracked.
I couldn’t hold the tears back anymore.
The sound of my palm striking his cheek snapped through the kitchen like a gunshot.
My whole body shook. Cold tears slid down my face as my breath came out ragged and loud.
“You don’t know anything about what I wanted, Enrico,” I choked out. “Nothing.”
He smiled—veins standing out in his neck, his face still turned from the slap.
