Chapter 32 THE ART OF BREAKING HER(VANeSSA’S POV)
“I told you she would break sooner or later,” I whispered to myself as I applied my lipstick in Ethan’s guest bathroom, which was my personal mirror of victory.
The color was a deep, poisonous red, perfect for war.
I stepped out just in time to see Patricia, the trembling PA who worships the ground I walk on, as she was hovering by the hallway like a nervous puppy. “Did you do what I asked?” I asked, not even slowing my steps.
Patricia nodded like her head was about to fall off anytime. “Y-yes, Miss Vanessa. I dropped the file on her bed. The one with the...”
“Good,” I cut her off with a wave of my fingers. “No need to repeat my plans aloud. The walls may not have ears, but Ethan certainly does, somewhere.”
I smirked as I waited for the outburst of what I cooked. Ethan always heard what he wanted, and of course, ignored what he needed. That was why I would always have power over him.
“Now leave,” I said, turning sharply. “You shake rather too much. You’ll ruin the air around mebif I allow you to stay more than necessary.” Patricia scurried away like a puppet that she is.
That is just perfect. The house was quiet...too quiet for my liking, but somehow to my favor because it meant Demilia was alone.
My heels clicked softly on the marble floors as I approached her door. I paused, listened, then smiled. I heard soft crying, the delicious kind of crying. I let myself in without knocking.
Demilia sat on the edge of her bed, holding the photos I planted...the ones showing Ethan signing a prenatal contract with his father… proof (fake, but convincing) that Ethan had known about her pregnancy long before she told anyone.
She didn’t even hear me enter, and certainly won't care.“Are you alright?” I asked sweetly.
She jerked away like she had been stabbed right in her chest. Her red, swollen eyes meant my attack landed perfectly, just the way I dished it out.
“You…” she breathed. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking on you, to be sure you are okay,” I said, pressing a hand dramatically to my chest. “Ethan is…really worried.”
“No he’s not,” she whispered amidst trars. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Alright then,” I shrugged, stepping into the room. “He isn’t worried as I said. But I certainly amon his behalf.”
“About what exactly?” she asked bitterly, restraining herself from punching me.
“You,” I said, giving her my softest angelic smile. “And the baby in your womb.”
She stiffened the moment she heard about the baby, but it was beautifully. I let my voice drop dramatically, dripping poison into the room.
“Demilia… you truly didn’t know about this? That Ethan knew you were pregnant long before he married you, all these while?”
She froze, completely hooked. I didn't care to Sugar coat the words before sending them to her. I was too raw.
“You’re lying,” she whispered, her nails digging into the blanket. “You always lie to me.”
“Do I?” I asked, raising a brow and strolling closer. “Then explain why his father had a full medical report on you, which was months before the wedding. Explain the signatures. The tests.” I paused. “Explain why Ethan demanded the child be his heir before he even touched you.”
The room went still, and I know I already got her hooked. Her lips trembled non stop. “Stop it.”
“Why?” I asked, tilting my head. “The truth hurts so badly?” Her eyes filled again, with tears, and oh, how beautiful suffering looked on her. “You’re trying to ruin my life,” she whispered.
“No,” I smiled cheerfully. “I’m trying to save Ethan’s.”
“You don’t own him.” “I did,” I said softly. “Before you came into the picture to scatter everything.” Then I leaned closer, lowering my voice: “And I will again, but after sending you back to where you belong.” She swallowed hard, visibly shaking like a dried leaf.
“You’re sick,” she said.
“Perhaps.” I smirked knowingly. “But I’m not the one whose entire life is built on a lie.”
She flinched as I always get her where she less expects. That was a perfect weapon.
I walked toward her, stopping just an inch too close.
“Let me give you a free warning,” I whispered. “You don’t belong here. And that baby…”
Her hand immediately covered her stomach protectively, like I would rip it off that moment.
“…that baby is the only thing making Ethan tolerate you.”
“How do you sleep at night?” she whispered.
“Like a queen that I am,” I said, brushing imaginary dust from my shoulder. “You, however…”
I looked slowly toward the photos in her shaking hands. “…should prepare yourself. Because this house…” I looked around the walls. “…is the last place you will stay in peace.”
Her eyes widened in fear, making her look more horrible than she is. Then I delivered the final cut. “Tell me, Demilia…” I leaned forward, smiling like a devil in diamonds.
“…how does it feel to know Ethan wanted the child… but never wanted the mother?”
She gasped. an ugly, painful sound, bit on the other hand, victory burned sweet on my tongue.
I turned to leave, ending it with one last knife twist. “Oh, and by the way,” I added lightly, opening the door,
“If the stress gets too much… be careful. Complications during pregnancy are very common.”
She sucked in a breath, like someone who would die any moment. She was wearing fear like a garment, and that was just too perfect.
“Especially for someone like you.” I stepped out and closed the door behind me, not minding if she would survive there or not. I ensured to close it slowly, quietly, and sweetly just to get to her.
So she could hear her own heartbreak echo, right in front of her.
And then I smiled...the smile of a woman who planned to destroy everything.
From Ethan, to Demilia, to the baby, including their fragile little world. All of it was about to collapse under my command.
And I...Vanessa...I would be the one holding the match.