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But he did exist. And now he was here. And he was tall, handsome. He’d grow into those shoulders one day, just as he’d grow into his confidence, and then the world would be his oyster. He’d be a credit to his parents...
But Cristiano would not be one of those parents.
Pain spread outwards inside him, a grief he wasn’t prepared for. Why had de Riero brought the boy? To gloat? To rub salt in the wound? As a shield? Why?
And then another person got out of the car—a woman with dark hair in a dark blue dress. Anna.
She came to stand by her son, smiling up at him, saying something to both him and de Riero that made them laugh. De Riero put a hand at the small of her back and leaned in to kiss her cheek while Anna’s hand rested on her son’s shoulder.
Something else hit Cristiano with all the force of a quarrel shot from a crossbow.
They were happy.
His son was happy.
You will destroy that. Publicly.
Realisation washed over him like a bucket of ice water and he found himself turning from the window and striding into the middle of the room, his hands in fists.
Anger was a torch blazing inside him. Of course de Riero had brought the boy. Yes, hewashere as a shield—to protect de Riero against anything Cristiano might do. The coward. Well, he was mistaken. This wedding would go ahead, and Cristiano would parade his daughter in front of him, and...
In front of your son.
Cristiano took a breath, then another, adrenaline pumping through him, anger and bitterness gathering in his throat, choking him.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it—about what would happen when Leonie was revealed. What de Riero would do and, more importantly, what his son would do. Did he know he had a stepsister? If he did, how would he react to the knowledge that she wasn’t dead, but alive? And if he didn’t what would he think about the fact that his so-called father hadn’t told him?
That happiness you saw outside... You will destroy it. In front of the world.
The breath caught in his throat, an arrow reaching his heart.
He couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t destroy his son’s happiness.
He’d already done it once before, when the boy had been small, frightening him and sending straight into de Riero’s arms. He couldn’t do it again.
And all the revenge in the world wouldn’t give him back what he’d lost. That was gone. For ever.
Love. That was the problem. That hadalwaysbeen the problem.
He’d loved his parents and, no matter what Leonie said, that love had destroyed them. He’d loved Anna once, and had nearly destroyed her. And this love he had for his son—well, now he was on the brink of nearly destroying him, too.
This revenge wasn’t cold. It burned like the sun and that was unacceptable.
Love. He was done with it.
And Leonie? What about her?
Yes, she was another casualty of his caring. He’d drawn her into his orbit and kept her there—a tool he could use, a weapon he could wield against Victor de Riero.
Lovely, generous, passionate Leonie, who didn’t deserve the use he’d put her to.
Who deserved so much more than being tied to man who only saw her only as something he could use.
He was selfish and he’d hurt her. And he would keep on hurting her. Because that was all he knew how to do.
Hurting people was all he ever did.
