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"Wouldn't it be the best punishment for Raf to see the two women in his life going head to head?"
"You… You're going to make us fight?" I frown, the notion not so far fetched after I'd seen the memory from thehacienda.
"Fight? Bah, of course not. Fighting is for those who can't solve things with their brains," he taps his finger to his forehead. "I'm merely going to play some mind games with my brother. And it will all culminate with one choice. He will condemn one to death, while saving the other. Isn't that so Shakespearean?" He sighs in pleasure.
I freeze.
"You don't mean…" I can barely find my voice to speak. My heart is beating loudly in my chest, goosebumps spreading on the surface of my skin.
All of the sudden, I find myself face to face with my worst nightmare.
"It's exactly what I mean. He will kill you with his own hand," he smiles. "Well,oneof you," he chuckles. "But regardless of whom he'll choose, he will feel that guilt for the rest of his—rather short—life."
I shake my head, dropping the tablet as I sink to my knees on the floor. There's no strength in my body, nothing but despair that emanates from my entire being.
"I see you've already foreseen the outcome," he chuckles.
"How can you be so despicable?" I ask in a whisper.
"Despicable? No, no," he takes a step closer. “You don't get to callmedespicable, Noelle. Not when it was yourdearhusband who made me who I am today," he states in a grave voice.
"Yet you won't tell me what that is," I retort sarcastically.
"Oh, you will find out when the time is right—wheneveryonewill find out."
He narrows his eyes at me, no doubt relishing my anguish and the fact that I know I'm heading straight for the guillotine.
Because if Lucero is alive… Then I simply stand no chance.
The choice is clear.
I know it. Now Michele knows it.
Everyone knows it.
I was just the replacement, and my job's already done.
He's halfway to the door when my voice echoes in the room.
"You said you value your word," I call out.
He turns, narrowing his eyes at me.
Getting up, I straighten my spine, raising my head and looking him square in the eye. I want him to see he doesn't scare me—nor does the thought of dying.
"So?"
"Let's make a deal," I confidently suggest.
"A deal?" His brows shoot up. "I'm all ears," he says smoothly.
"Let's make a bet on whom he's going to choose."
"Nice try, Noelle. But we both know whom he's going to choose, and it's unlikely to be you," he chuckles, and I note a hint of pity in his gaze.
Great, now even the enemy pities me?
"I'm willing to bet on myself," I push my chin up.
