“Just a toy. If he wants to make a scene, let him. When he’s done, I’ll go collect his corpse. Throw these away, and bring me Zavier’s antique collection.”
I sipped red wine, and under the pale moonlight realized for the first time just how beautiful those antiques truly were, yet beauty always comes with fragility.
I lifted the hammer, felt its weight, and struck, blow after deliberate blow, until vases worth billions shattered into shards, scattering across the floor like fallen stars.
Denver rushed forward, steadying me with a firm grip. “Miss, slow down. Don’t cut yourself. These pieces of trash aren’t worth it.”
I nodded, crouched down, and snapped photos of the shattered vases, sending them immediately to Zavier.
[Not enough, not loud enough. Next time, buy more.] his message read.
No further reply came, only a video call. I answered, and Evie’s smug face filled the screen.
“Seeing me, huh? Disappointed?”
I smiled, calm and unshaken. “Actually, I should thank you. Without you, how would I be living in Zavier’s mansion? Not only did he not abandon me after the miscarriage, but out of guilt, he spoils me even more.”