Chapter 3
Cynthia handed my phone back just as Zita called.
“Willow, I just got a delivery-two really detailed dolls. Did you order them?”
My heart jumped. I yelled urgently, “Don’t touch them! Throw them out now!”
Zita was startled.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
I took a deep breath and caught sight of the faint smile on Cynthia’s lips. A chill ran down my spine.
My parents had died unexpectedly when I was young.
After our family fell into ruin, Zita had dropped out of high school to work, supporting me and putting me through college.
Her struggles with pregnancy were largely due to the years of overwork that left her health fragile.
Cynthia knew the depth of my bond with Zita and was using her to threaten me.
I hung up, resigned and compromised,
“I won’t do anything. I know nothing. Nothing happened. My mafia husband is dead.”
Cynthia’s smile widened in satisfaction.
“Relax. The dolls are just dolls.”
“Now eat. It’s getting cold.”
But the next second, a noise came from the doorway.
She flipped the small table, spilling the food all over me. The container clattered to the floor.
Orlando stormed in. “Cynthia! Are you okay?”
She shook her head, smiling, “I’m fine. Go check on Willow.”
Orlando blocked her and shot me a sidelong glance.
“She’s fine. Don’t worry about her.”
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Another knife in my heart. Cynthia’s smile grew even wider.
Orlando escorted her out, his voice low as he spoke to her.
“Willow’s emotions are unstable right now. If she completely loses it and tries anything, I’ve already got my men nearby.”
Cynthia’s voice softened, a hint of playful coquetry in it. “You always think of everything.”
They left. The nurse came in to clean up. I hid in the bathroom and called Zita.
“Zita, can you come and stay with me for a while? Ben can take you to get your visa today. I’ll come pick you up.”
Suddenly, someone knocked on the door.
I panicked, reminded Zita of something, and quickly hung up.
A nurse’s voice came from outside. I opened the door-and a man forced his way in.
Before I could scream, he covered my mouth and nose. Darkness swallowed me.
When I came to, I was in a hospital bed. I was wearing a gown, and my body was covered in bruises.
Cynthia leaned against the doorway, casually showing me my own naked photos like she was sharing gossip with a friend.
“Since you don’t trust me, I have to keep a little leverage over you.”
“If you don’t want Zita, your coworkers, friends, or even strangers seeing these, you’ll keep your mouth shut,”
My body trembled. I gritted my teeth and nodded.
Cynthia handled my discharge and sent me to the airport, giving me a card.
“Leave New York. Live your life, alone.”
I took it, but she didn’t immediately let go,
“The password is the day Paola died, I’ve felt guilty ever since, especially after I got pregnant and started dreaming about it again.”
I froze. Then, in a flash, it all clicked. Chapter 3
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The car accident… you arranged it?”
After Orlando’s incident, I found out I was pregnant.
Cynthia had urged me to terminate, but I couldn’t bear to. She promised to help me raise the child if
I kept it.
A few days later, she took me on a “relaxing” trip. That’s when she set
The baby was gone.
“A child without a father would suffer too much. Better not to bri
up
the accident.
it his world.”
I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat and got out of the car.
As soon as I landed, my old phone started buzzing like crazy.
“Is this Willow Lockwood? Zita Lockwood’s sister? A package was delivered to her home today. It
contained a strong allergen.”
“She’s bleeding heavily and close to lost the baby. She’s in critical condition. You need to come to the hospital right away to sign the consent forms.”
My fingertips went numb. I turned and changed my ticket to the earliest flight back to the U.S.
On the plane, I sobbed.
Back in New York, I dug up a handgun from the backyard of our family’s abandoned house, already
auctioned off.
This gun symbolized the ultimate authority of the Lockwood family-the very thing Orlando had
sought.
I bought a new phone and dialed a number.
“This is Willow Lockwood, Principessa of the Lockwood family. I have the gun my father, Don
Lockwood, left me.”
“He said if I ever needed anything, I could come to you with this gun. Does that still stand?”
“I want revenge.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
