In the days after we signed the papers, Carter was like a ghost. He didn't contact me once.
The old me would have gone insane. I would have locked myself in my room, numbing the pain with alcohol and antidepressants like an addict.
But now, the very air I breathed felt sweeter.
Less than three weeks remained until my "death."
I no longer shut myself away in that gilded cage of a mansion. Instead, Ava and I partied every night.
Raising her champagne flute, Ava teased that I was having a late-blooming rebellion, "If you'd shown this 'fuck it all' attitude sooner, that arrogant bastard would have been on his knees at your feet long ago."
Then came the night of the gala at a top private gallery in Manhattan.
I was lost in thought, staring at a portrait of the Madonna, a favorite of my father's from the Renaissance, when a commotion erupted behind me.
No matter where he went, Carter Throne carried an oppressive weight that clung to him like a second skin.
He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black Italian suit, and on his arm was Tessa, draped in a couture white dress.
They looked perfect together.
Carter saw me almost immediately.
Even from several feet away, I could feel the muscles in his body tense.
Tessa followed his gaze, then broke into her signature smile. "Oh my god, Maeve, what a coincidence!"
She leaned her head intimately on Carter's shoulder, as if staking her claim.
Seeing me, Carter instinctively shielded Tessa behind him, a clear gesture of protection.
He was probably afraid I would fly into a rage like I did at the shooting range, that this "lunatic" would rush over and tear his precious little princess to shreds.
Ava scoffed beside me and started to move forward.
But I placed a hand on her wrist. Meeting Carter's wary gaze, I simply raised my champagne glass in a cool, subtle gesture.
"It is a coincidence."
Seeing how calm I was, the triumphant look in Tessa's eyes faltered for a second.
She peeked out from behind Carter and pointed to the painting I had been looking at, her voice a sugary coo.
"Oh, Maeve. It's a shame about the painting. Carter just had someone buy it for three times the asking price."
She paused deliberately. "He said my bedroom is too plain, that it needs a little art to liven it up."
The barb hit its mark.
I had pleaded with Carter for that painting for a long time.
I told him I missed my father and wanted to buy back his favorite work.
What had Carter said then?
He'd said, "It's just some gloomy old painting. That style isn't suitable for our home. It's bad luck."
And now, this "bad luck" painting had become a trophy to win a smile from his pretty companion.
Carter's throat bobbed.
He was watching me, seemingly waiting for my explosion, waiting for me to question him like a madwoman.
But I didn't even twitch an eyebrow.
"Congratulations, then, Tessa. I hope you sleep soundly with it hanging over your bed."
With that, I took Ava's arm and turned to leave, treating them like complete strangers.
Ava was reluctant, muttering a curse under her breath.
"We're just leaving? That's not like you, Maeve."
"I don't waste my time on fools," I replied softly, my pace never faltering.
Behind me, Tessa was showing off her new gift to the people around them.
And I could feel his gaze burning into my back like a brand.
He just stood there, clutching the glass of whiskey he hadn't had a chance to drink.
He didn't seem to snap out of it until Tessa shook his arm, whining his name in a petulant pout.
The feared Capo finally broke his gaze, a flicker of something I had never seen in his eyes before: confusion.
