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But there was one taunting object in its place that confirmed my suspicions.
That sent my bloodroaring.
I suspected it when we left the banquet hall. An uneasy feeling crept into my mind and tugged at its strings, telling me I made a horrible miscalculation.
Suddenly everything fell into place.
All the signs I missed were flashing before my eyes like red flags.
Antoine Toussaint’s words played in my brain like a goddamn broken record.
“You hated me from the start, while I didnothing to you.”
Nothing to you.
Nothing.
To.
You.
A chill travelled through my bones.
I grabbed the white king chess piece sitting in the safe and glanced over at the unfinished game on my desk.
The one I started months ago with my little brother.
All the chess pieces were standing still, except for my black king piece, which lay like a fallen soldier on the board.
Benjamin De la Croix was Pierrot all along.
And this was his fucking way of telling me checkmate.
CHAPTER 39
Without You
Darla
Iwas not done with Zeno.
Ten minutes of being alone with my thoughts, I realized I overreacted and allowed rash words to leave me based on temporary emotions.
Was I livid over what occurred tonight at the auction?
Yes.
Was I still reeling from the drive-by shooting?
Yes.
Was Zeno at fault for not destroying the contents of that folder?
Yes.
But he was not responsible for the contents of that folder being made public.
Above all, my husband was my protector. He was human and he made mistakes, but he would never intentionally hurt me. Which meant someone from my husband’s inner circle must have gotten their hands on the other copy. They decided to make a fool out of my family, knowing how badly it would reflect on the De la Croixes.
