The second shot pierced the helm of the “Victoria,” our yacht on Hudson Bay.
Our love could never restart.
The third shot destroyed the TV replaying the Madison Square Garden concert.
I wanted no love tainted with pretense.
Clara had calculated everything perfectly—except one thing.
Even if a madwoman pretends to be tame, she’s still a madwoman.
What’s mine can only ever be mine.
Either obey me—or die.
The day the U.S. media exposed my marital scandal with Adrian, the yacht “Victoria” was publicly auctioned.
One clueless bidder shouted, “One dollar!”
I grabbed the mic, thrilled as the gavel fell.
“One dollar—it’s yours!”
When the butler handed over the transfer papers in front of everyone, I received a call from Adrian.
“Coco, what game are you playing with me now?”
“Do you want those mansions on the hill, or that crown from the auction? Say the word, I’ll even pluck the stars for you.”
Adrian’s way of coaxing could truly intoxicate.
But the sweeter the words, the more poisonous they felt.
I narrowed my eyes, glancing at the message just sent by my men.
“I want nothing—except for you to come back.”
“And play this game properly with me.”
Adrian came home three days after the scandal broke.