Page 36 of Cinderella and the Daddy
The color drains from her face so quickly that I think she might faint. "What? I don't—what are you talking about?"
"Don't." I take a step closer, crowding her against the wall. "Don't fucking lie to me. Not anymore."
"I'm not lying!" Her voice rises slightly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
I pull out my phone, shoving the tracker data in her face. "This is you. Your location data for the past few weeks. You want toexplain to me why you've been in places you shouldn't be? Why your tracker has been pinging anomalous signals?"
She stares at the screen. I watch her face carefully for any tell, any sign that she understands what she's looking at. But there's nothing but genuine confusion.
"My tracker?" she says faintly. "What tracker?"
"The necklace.”
Her hand flies to her throat, fingers touching the small pendant. "This? This has a tracker?"
The shock in her voice is too real to be faked. No one is that good of an actress.
“You think I’m going to let you roam around my compound without knowing what you’re doing!”
"I had no idea!" She backs away from me, eyes wide. "God, I'm so stupid. Of course you'd bug me. Like I’m a fucking dog.”
Mac takes that second to pop his head up from the corner of the room. He seems to have just figured out his owner might be in danger.
"Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn't put a bullet in you right now."
I watch the fear bloom in her eyes. I hate myself for the part of me that enjoys seeing her finally understand what I'm capable of.
"Because I've done nothing wrong," she says defiantly. "Because I've spent every day for the past month taking care of your son. Because I've?—"
"Prove it." The words come out like a gunshot. "Prove to me you're not working with my enemies."
"How? How the hell am I supposed to prove a negative?" She's getting angry now, color returning to her cheeks. "You want to know what I did today? I made Leo breakfast. Pancakes, because that's his favorite. Then I helped him with his math homework while you were doing whatever the hell it is you do all day. After that, we worked in the garage—you can check the security cameras. I taught him how to change oil.
“We had lunch, then he napped while I read in the library. When he woke up, we played video games until dinner. After dinner, I bathed him and read him three stories before he fell asleep. That's my day, Luka. That's what I do every day. Remember, you fucking kidnapped me. I’m your prisoner. What makes you think I owe you shit? Loyalty? Fuck you.”
She's breathing hard now, hands clenched into fists at her sides. "You want receipts? Video footage? Do it. I don’t care. I'm not going to stand here and let you accuse me of betraying the only family I?—"
She stops abruptly, as if she's said too much.
"The only family youwhat?" I press, but she just shakes her head.
The fury in me is reaching a crescendo, a red tide that threatens to wash away any remaining rational thought. She's standing there looking hurt and betrayed.
I reach for her necklace, my fingers closing around the delicate chain. She gasps, probably thinking I'm about to strangle her with it. Instead, I yank hard, breaking the clasp and pulling it free.
"Luka, wait?—"
I slam the tracker against the wall and let it fall to the floor.
"Next time," I say, turning back to face her, "I'll put a bullet in you. I won’t fucking ask."
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. I expect her to fight back. Instead, her face crumples.
The first tearslides down her cheek silently, followed by another. Then her breath hitches—a small, wounded sound that cuts through me like a blade. Her hands come up to cover her face, but they can't muffle the sob that escapes.
"No," she whispers through her fingers. "No, not again. I can't do this again."
Her knees buckle. I watch her slide down the wall in slow motion, her spine dragging against the wallpaper until she hits the floor. She pulls her knees to her chest, making herself as small as possible, like she's trying to disappear entirely.
