"Anthea's dead." Vanessa's voice dripped with manufactured grief.
I sat on the couch, cradling my week-old son, didn't even glance up. Here we go again. I sneered inwardly.
This woman loved her performances—just like when she'd thrown herself into the lake and pinned it on Anthea. Pathetic. Boring. But I didn't mind playing along. Right now, with the merger on the line, she still had her uses.
My eyes stayed on the tiny thing in my arms. I'd just gotten back to the manor this morning when I met Olei. Yes, Olei—Anthea's choice. A week old and impossibly small, wrapped in his blanket, light as a handful of clouds. My finger brushed his soft cheek. He stared up at me with wide amber eyes.
Christ. He had Anthea's eyes.
"Silas." When I didn't respond, Vanessa sharpened her tone and thrust a black box at me. "Anthea died from postpartum hemorrhage. I'm so sorry. These are her ashes."
I finally looked up, my gaze sweeping over the box. This spoiled cartel princess would pull any stunt to secure her position as the future Mrs. Thorne.
"That's not something to joke about," I said, frowning.
Absurd. Two weeks ago, when I'd left the manor to deal with Tomaso's mess, Anthea had been in my bed, watching me with those wet eyes. How could she be dead? Without my permission, Anthea couldn't even leave my bed, let alone die.
This bitch had picked up on my... thing with Anthea, so she'd cooked up this scheme to make me think Anthea was gone. Make me give up, be her devoted husband? Bullshit.
I stood, baby in one arm, took the fake urn with my other hand. Without hesitation, as Vanessa watched in shock, I tossed it into the corner trash can.
The box hit the metal rim.
"Keep your bad luck charm away from me," I told Vanessa. "And drop the grief act. You got what you wanted, didn't you? The baby."
Anthea was under my men's watch. Apart from news of the birth, I'd received no unusual reports. So if Anthea wasn't at the manor, my father had hidden her somewhere. I'd have my people find her soon enough.
Something flickered in Vanessa's eyes, then her face relaxed into a smile. "You're right, darling. I thought you might care about her, express some regret about her death. She was the child's birth mother, after all."
I did care about Anthea. When Anthea smiled at my guards in a way she'd never smiled at me, I knew I fucking cared. I wanted her in a way I'd never wanted anything.
But I could only marry Vanessa. For my ambition. My family. My power.
Didn't matter. I'd keep Anthea on the side, make her my mistress. I'd buy her a house in my territory, make sure she looked at no one but me, spread her legs for no one but me. Would she hate me? Maybe. But I knew she couldn't leave me.
"In that case... should we sit down with both families in a few days? Discuss the engagement date? My father keeps asking." When I stayed silent, Vanessa smiled sweetly and slipped her arm through mine.
I didn't pull away. Instead, I softened my voice. "Of course. Vanessa, you'll be the lady of the Thorne family. Don't let trivial matters upset you."
I had to let Vanessa think she'd won. Had to convince her and my father I'd completely severed ties with Anthea. Once Vanessa and I married, she'd get nothing but titles—fiancée, wife, lady of the Thorne family. No real connection between us. And her family would be mine.
"Good. Then I'll go tell my father the good news." Vanessa kissed my cheek. She glanced at the trash can, then turned and clicked away on her heels.
The moment the door closed, my mask shattered.
"Idiot," I muttered, eyes cold.
Olei, maybe sensing the violence rolling off me, suddenly wailed. I forced down my irritation, carefully handed the baby to the nanny hovering in the corner.
"Take him. Look after him."
The nanny took the child like her life depended on it and fled.
I turned back to my desk, hit the phone.
"Marco, find out where Vanessa and my father stashed Anthea. That woman thinks a fake urn can fool me? Pathetic."
After hanging up, I grabbed the files on my desk and tried to tackle two weeks of backlog. But the black text twisted on the pages. I couldn't focus. I tossed the files down, leaned back, my gaze drifting to the window.
