Chapter 3
I ignored him and took an empty seat.
Sara picked up a biscuit and held it to Luciano’s lips.
Luciano didn’t take it. He looked at me. “For money, you’d even dare show up at an occasion like this?”
“It’s not that I dare.” I poured myself a cup of tea. “It’s that I have to.”
“Oh?”
I set the teacup down, pulled out a sheet of paper from my bag, placed it lightly on the lazy Susan, and turned it toward him.
“Jenny’s schedule for next semester. Equestrian training, fencing, language classes. The fees are all listed. According to the divorce agreement, you cover sixty percent.”
Someone at the table snickered.
Luciano glanced at it and pushed the paper aside. “Just for this?”
“There’s more.” I pulled out several photocopies. “These are three irregular expenditures from last month’s family fund. Guess what? The payee is a company Sara registered in the Cayman Islands.”
Sara’s face changed.
Luciano slowly straightened in his seat.
“You investigated me?”
“Marital joint property. I have the right to know where it’s going.” I met his gaze. “Especially when you’re touching my daughter’s future inheritance.”
The private room was so quiet that the clinking of glasses next door could be heard.
Sara finally couldn’t hold back. “That money was—”
“Shut up.” Luciano didn’t look at her. He stared at me. “Emily, you’ve learned quite a lot after so many years by my side.”
“Thanks to you.”
He suddenly smiled. “Fine. The child support will be transferred tomorrow. Now, you can leave.”
I stood up and picked up my coat. “Next time you want to see me, don’t threaten me with my daughter’s money. You know I respond to softness, not force.”
I could clearly see him pause for a moment.
As I reached the door, his voice came from behind. “You’re really not afraid of never seeing me again?”
After everything he had done to me, he still thought I couldn’t let him go.
I paused, but didn’t turn around.
When I got home, Jenny was already asleep.
The kitchen light was still on, porridge warming in the pot.
The nanny had made it. She knew I would get hungry at night.
I ladled out a bowl. After only two sips, a wave of nausea hit me.
As I rushed into the bathroom and retched, my heart skipped a beat.
Two lines appeared on the pregnancy test.
I sat on the toilet in a daze.
My phone rang. Luciano’s name flashed on the screen.
“You felt pretty impressive today? Even brought out the account books.”
“Say what you need to say.”
He paused. “Bring our daughter to see me tomorrow. I miss her.”
I tightened my grip on the pregnancy test. “On what grounds?”
He was as self-righteous as ever. “On the grounds that I’m her biological father. And I haven’t signed the divorce agreement yet.”
I laughed, my voice lowering. “If you want to see her, come yourself.”
Before he could respond, I hung up and threw the pregnancy test into the trash.
A few days later, somehow Luciano learned that I was pregnant.
I didn’t know how many people he had assigned to watch me, but when I walked out of the clinic that day, he was standing at the entrance.
Two of his men stood behind him on the street, like a pair of stone guardians.
“Get rid of it.” He didn’t look at me as he lit a cigarette.
“I never said I was keeping it.”
“Then hurry.” He handed me a card—a black card with no limit. “Find a better clinic. Don’t be cheap. I’ll have Lee accompany you.”
I didn’t take it.
He bent down and stuffed the card into my bag. “Next Saturday, Lee will pick you up.”
“No need,” I said. “I’ll handle it myself.”
He turned to leave, then stopped.
Ash fell to the ground.
“When you gave birth to Jenny back then, you had the same expression.” He faced away from me. “I remember you calling my name all night in the delivery room.”
He left.
I stood there, watching his car disappear around the corner.
On the day of the procedure, I was alone.
As I lay on the operating table, the nurse asked, “Are you sure you don’t want it?”
I nodded. Closed my eyes.
Suddenly I remembered eight years ago, when I was pregnant with Jenny.
Luciano ran out in the middle of the night to buy fruit. On his way back, he slipped and scraped his knee, yet he was still smiling.
He had said, “Emily, we’re really going to be parents. My daughter—Luciano Stanton’s daughter. Sara’s going to have a little sister.”
Back then he hadn’t become Don yet, hadn’t gotten involved with Sara. Back then, he still smiled at me.
When the cold instruments entered my body, something slid down from the corner of my eye.
The nurse said softly, “Don’t cry. It’ll be over soon.”
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, saying nothing.
