Chapter 13 Thirteen
IDALIA SOLENE
Camilla let out a short, choked sob. She covered her mouth with her shaking hands. She had no defense. I had spoken her deepest, darkest insecurity out loud in front of the entire room.
I broke eye contact with her and I did not care about her tears. I reached my right hand under the edge of the thick tablecloth and slid my hand into the pocket of my tailored white suit jacket. I pulled out the phone and kept it hidden below the table before I unlocked the screen and opened my messages. I found Zara’s name.
I typed three simple words.
Bring them over. You know what to tell them.
I pressed send. I slipped the phone back into my pocket. I placed my hands flat on the table again. I waited. The psychological torture was complete. It was time for the final humiliation.
Twenty awkward minutes passed in total silence as they continued to eat while I watched. Camilla was still taking short, ragged breaths. Elena was staring at the wall, completely defeated by my cold confidence. Mr. Vance was still watching me, his eyes wide and wet.
Then, the heavy oak double doors of the dining room swung open. The metal hinges clicked loudly.
The sound of small, quick footsteps echoed clearly on the hard wood floor. Zara walked into the dining room. She was holding Leo’s hand in her right hand and Mia’s hand in her left hand. The children were in neat, expensive clothes. They looked around the large, strange room with curious eyes.
The entire room went completely dead.
Nobody breathed. The house staff standing by the walls froze in place. Elena stopped blinking. Camilla lowered her shaking hands from her face.
Mr. Vance dropped his cloth napkin. It fell slowly to the floor. He stood up so fast his heavy wooden chair tipped backward. It crashed loudly onto the floor. He did not look back at the chair. He did not look at me. He stared directly at Leo.
He could not breathe. His mouth hung open.
The physical resemblance was completely undeniable. It hit him like a physical punch to the gut. He saw the absolute truth standing right in front of him. I wondered if he was thinking if Leo had Thane’s exact heavy jawline.
He had Thane’s thick, dark hair. He had the exact same piercing, icy blue eyes. He was a miniature, flawless copy of the billionaire who currently ruled the city. Mia stood next to him, possessing my exact stormy grey eyes.
"Grandchildren," Mr. Vance breathed out. His voice was a thick, wet whisper. He took a tiny step forward, his hands reaching out blindly toward the twins. "I have grandchildren."
Camilla looked at the children. The panic in her dark eyes expanded into massive, unfixable horror. She knew exactly what this meant. Her fake life was officially over. If Thane really looked at these children and realized they were his, if he saw the boy with his exact face, he would destroy everything to get to them.
She needed to perform. She needed to save herself in front of Mr. Vance.
Camilla forced her thin lips into a wide, completely fake smile. It looked painful on her pale face. She pushed her chair back and quickly walked around the large table. She moved toward the children. She kneeled down on the hard wood floor directly in front of Leo. She reached out her shaking hand, trying to touch his small arm.
"Hello, little boy," Camilla said. Her voice was high, tight, and painfully sweet. "What is your name? Are you my new nephew?"
Leo did not smile back. He stood very still. He did not hide behind Zara. He stood tall, as he always did when faced with situations like this.
He seemed to have his father’s exact commanding, heavy boss energy in his small frame. His funny, piercing gaze was tailored towards her shaking hands, at her fake, thin lips and maybe at looked at the panic sweating through her makeup.
Or maybe he wasn't.. I was just overthinking it.
Leo took one deliberate step backward. He looked away from Camilla and looked directly at me.
I gave a nod.
"Mommy," Leo said. His voice was loud, clear, and perfectly steady in the quiet room. "Why is the ugly lady talking to me?"
The silence shattered. A young maid standing by the kitchen door quickly covered her mouth with her hand to hide a sudden, loud gasp of laughter. Mr. Vance let out a sharp, shocked breath.
Camilla froze completely. Her fake smile stayed frozen on her face, but her eyes filled with hot, angry tears. Her face turned bright red.
“What?”
The absolute humiliation of being rejected and insulted by a four-year-old child in front of the house staff was too much for her fragile ego.
She slowly lowered her shaking hand.
Mia reacted differently. She let go of Zara’s hand. She ran quickly behind my long legs.
She gripped the expensive fabric of my white suit pants tightly in her small fists. she peeked out from behind my knee. She looked at Camilla like she was looking at a scary, dangerous monster in a dark closet.
"She looks mean, Mommy," Mia whispered. Her voice was small, but it carried perfectly across the quiet room. "I do not like her."
I felt a massive, powerful wave of pride rush through my chest. The ice in my veins turned into hot, protective fire. I pushed my chair back slowly and then I stood up before walking around the table and stood directly in front of my children. I placed my right hand on Leo’s shoulder. I placed my left hand on Mia’s head.
I looked down at Camilla. She was still kneeling on the floor. She looked pathetic. She looked small.
"Step away from my children," I said. My voice was very soft, but it carried a heavy, lethal warning. "Do not reach for them again."
Camilla looked up at me. She swallowed hard. She slowly stood up, backing away from us.
"My children have very high standards for the people they associate with," I told her, keeping my eyes locked on her pale face. "You do not meet them. You will never meet them. So do not speak to them. And don't try to act cute."
I turned my attention away from the women and looked at the head of the table. Mr. Vance was still standing there. He looked utterly broken now. He wanted to hold the children. He wanted to beg for my forgiveness. But I did not give him the chance to speak. The psychological war in this house was over for today. I had accomplished exactly what I came to do.
"I will see you again, Mr. Vance," I said simply. I did not call him father. I kept my tone professional and distant.
I did not look at Elena. I did not look at Camilla. I turned around. I took Leo’s hand.
Zara took Mia’s hand. We walked out of the dining room in a perfect, organized line. We walked down the long, portrait-lined hall. We walked past the bowing butler at the front door. We made our way out of the massive oak doors and stepped out into the warm evening air.
We walked down the wide stone steps toward the waiting Maybach. The heavy iron gates of the estate were already open in the distance.
The cool night air hit my face. The heavy, suffocating weight I always felt inside that terrible house shifted. It lifted slightly off my shoulders. I felt deeply satisfied. I had completely ruined their safe, fake world. I had planted the seeds of absolute paranoia in their minds. They would not sleep tonight. They would not sleep for a very long time.
But as the driver opened the heavy car door for my children, I stopped. I stood on the white gravel driveway. I knew this victory was small. This was just a minor fight against weak, cowardly women. The real war was waiting for me back at the hospital.
The real war was Thane Devereux.
I looked up at the dark night sky. The moon was bright, full, and completely clear of clouds. It glowed a bright, cold white against the black sky.
I thought about his large, heavy hands again. I thought about the sheer, overwhelming physical power in his broad shoulders. I thought about the hard, unforgiving line of his heavy jaw.
God, what the hell was I thinking?
But they wouldn't stop coming.
I remembered the way he blocked the door of the VIP suite with his massive body. I remembered the deep, dark vibration of his voice echoing in the hospital hallway when he said my real name.
Idalia.
A sudden, sharp thrill of anticipation shot down my spine. I was not afraid of him. He was next.
I wanted to fight him. I wanted to stand toe-to-toe with the billionaire king of New York and watch him break under my power, just like his fiancée and my horrible stepmother.
I kept my eyes on the bright moon. I wondered where he was right now. I wondered if he was standing by a window in his massive glass penthouse.
Are you thinking about me right now, Thane? I wondered silently. Are you looking at the moon we used to talk about in the dark? Are you thinking about me as much as I am currently thinking about yours?
I lowered my head and got into the back seat of the Maybach. The heavy car door slammed shut, sealing me inside.
It was time to finish the war I started.