Chapter 3
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But the lawyer told me the identity erasure would take two weeks, I just nodded and said okay. Two weeks. That’s all we needed.
Elle and I left the lawyer’s office the same day we buried Eli.
Now we were back in the Salvacion estate, pretending to be the picture–perfect family for just a ittle longer. Because if Niccolo suspected anything, if he found out I planned to disappear with Elle… we’d never make it out alive.
The staff still looked at me with pity. I didn’t care. I wasn’t here for them.
spent the first day emptying the house of him–quietly, methodically. His favorite mug disappeared from the cabinet. I deleted every playlist he ever made me, even the one we danced o at our wedding.
On the second day, I repainted the bedroom. I changed the sheets, replaced the curtains, moved he bed to the opposite wall. Not a single trace of how it used to be.
On the third day, I visited the safe.
nside was the antique watch I gave him on our first anniversary. The one he said he’d pass down to our son one day. I took it. Sold it to a collector overseas. Not for the money. For the <nowledge that it’d never land in his hands again.
When I came back to the mansion, Elle was waiting in the foyer. But so were two other people. Niccolo. And her. Margot.
She was curled up on the couch beside him like some porcelain doll; thin, fragile, the kind of fake sick that men fall for. Her hands wrapped around his arm like she belonged there.
held Elle’s hand and walked past them without a word.
‘Stop,” Niccolo’s voice rang out behind me. Cold. Commanding.
paused but didn’t turn around.
‘Where’s the bastard boy?” he asked.
My hand twitched, but I said nothing. Not here. Not in front of Elle.
‘Where’s Eli?” he pressed.
Still, I said nothing. I felt Elle’s fingers tighten around mine. I looked down at her. Her face was calm. Too calm for a six–year–old. So I knelt, brushed her hair behind her ear, and said softly, ‘Come on, let’s go cook something, sweetheart.”
We walked toward the kitchen, but before I could step inside, Niccolo’s hand wrapped around my arm and yanked me back hard.
‘Don’t fucking ignore me,” he snapped. “You think you can just act like nothing happened? Where s my son?”
yanked my arm free.
‘You said he wasn’t yours,” I said flatly. “So why are you asking now?”
He glared at me. But before he could say anything else, Margot’s voice came in, soft and pitiful.
‘Niccolo, don’t… you’re scaring her.”
3/2
12:45 pm P p pp.
I turned. Margot was curled up on the couch like some frail little thing, one hand clutching his sleeve, the other resting over her heart as if it was all too much for her.
He softened immediately.
“You always get anxious when I raise my voice,” he murmured, brushing her hair back. “You should rest.”
He kissed the top of her head. Right in front of me.
Elle watched in silence. Not a sound. She just stood beside me like a ghost.
I turned to leave again.
Then Niccolo said it–real smooth, real slow:
“Geneva, apologize to her. She’s been suffering ever since you dumped her in Monochalie. Sh couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. You went too far.”
That made me stop.
I turned, expression empty. “And if I don’t?”
Margot straightened slightly, eyes glistening like she was about to cry but I saw the smirk underneath. “It’s okay, Niccolo… I don’t mind. Geneva’s still the lady of the house.”
She looked down shyly, but I caught the flicker of smugness in her eyes.
Niccolo kissed her forehead. “You’re too kind. From now on, I’ll spoil you. You don’t have to take anything from anyone.”
I nearly laughed. It was pathetic. A joke.
Just then, a maid brought in a cup of chamomile tea.
“For Miss Margot,” she said politely.
Chamomile. Her favorite.
I stood there, cold, blank, dead inside. Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen. “You always get headaches when I talk business around you,” he whispered to Margot. “I’ll take this outside. Drink your tea.”
And just like that, he left. The moment the door closed, Margot’s whole act dropped. Elle hiding behind my leg. Margot sitting on that damn couch like a queen.
“See that?” she said with a light laugh. “You sent me away, but he still chose me.”
I said nothing.
“He holds me now. Loves me now. You’re just a ghost in this house.”
I looked at her, calm. Empty. “If you want him, Margot,” I said, “then take him.”
She blinked, like I’d slapped her. “I don’t need your permission!” she snapped. “I’ll have everything -him, this house, his name…everything!”
Her voice grew louder, panicked. Then Niccolo’s footsteps echoed outside. She acted fast. Grabbed the scalding tea and poured it over her own chest. Screamed. Elle screamed too, clutching my leg. Niccolo burst in seconds later. Margot was on the floor, sobbing, clothes soaked.
His eyes locked on me.
2/3 8.3%
12:45 pm P P P P
“Geneva!”
“I didn’t touch her,” I said flatly. “There are cameras. Check them.”
He looked ready to kill. But before he could speak, Margot gasped through fake tears, “It’s not her fault, Niccolo. I just… I probably spilled it myself. I shouldn’t have tried to stay here… I’ll go.” She stepped forward dramatically.
He caught her wrist. “You’re not going anywhere. I searched every corner of this planet for you and now you think you can walk out again? You trying to kill me?” Then he looked at me. “Lock them both in the basement.”
My heart stopped. I stepped in front of Elle instantly, arms stretched wide. “No–no, please, don‘ punish her! Niccolo, she’s just a child! She’s been through too much already!”
He didn’t even look at me.
Margot, still clinging to his arm like some bruised porcelain doll, gave a little whimper. “You sav how she looked at me… I can’t live like this, Niccolo. I’m scared she’ll hurt me again…”
“You’re overthinking it,” I snapped. “You faked the entire thing!”
“Enough!” His voice cut through the air.
I turned to him, desperate. “Check the damn cameras. Please. Just check them.”
“There’s no need,” he said, eyes like ice. “She’s the only person I trust.”
My stomach twisted. Elle gripped my hand tighter.
Margot turned, her voice suddenly steady–too steady. “Drag them down. No food. No water.”
“Wait! Niccolo!” I screamed. “Not Elle. Do whatever the hell you want to me, but not her! She’s your daughter-”
“She’s not,” he said flatly.
That silenced me. Two of his men grabbed me. Elle screamed and clung to my waist, sobbing.
“Mama! Don’t let them-”
“I’m right here, baby. I won’t let go,” I said, holding her tight even as they yanked us both down the hall. My knees scraped the floor. My arms burned. Elle cried into my shirt.
The basement door creaked open. Dark, damp, and cruel. They shoved us inside like we were garbage. Then the door slammed shut.
Chapter 3
