The Heiress' Revenge

Chapter 192: I Didn’t Have Anything

Ariana’s POV

Phillip stood up from his seat, his chair scraping against the floor. "Natasha, that’s enough."

Natasha turned to face her brother. "Stay out of this, Phillip. This doesn’t concern you."

"It does concern me," Phillip said with his voice calm but his eyes hard. "She made a mistake, it was an accident, and apologized. Let it go."

Natasha laughed, a cold sound. "Let it go? She ruined Mother’s dress and my dinner... and you want me to let it go?"

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stand there. My cheek was throbbing, my heart was pounding, my eyes were locked on Dante.

He was still watching me, his face unreadable, but his eyes searching, looking for something, trying to figure something out.

Did he know? Could he see through the mask? Could he sense who I was?

I needed to get out of there, needed to run, needed to hide.

"I’m sorry," I said again, my voice barely a whisper. "I’ll go... I’ll clean up. I’ll—"

"Just go," Mrs. Anderson said coldly, dismissively. "Get out of my sight, I’ll deal with you later."

I turned away and started walking toward the door. My legs were shaking, my hands were shaking, my whole body was shaking.

I turned away and walked down the stairs, past the basement, past the maids’ quarters, and to my tiny, cramped, lonely room.

I closed the door behind me, leaning against it, and I slid down to the floor as tears came.

Dante was here in England, engaged to Natasha, about to marry into the Anderson family.

How was I supposed to survive this? How was I supposed to stay hidden? How was I supposed to keep my secret?

I didn’t have answers.

I didn’t have anything.

Just fear, pain, and the sting of Natasha’s slap and the echo of Dante’s eyes.

The laundry room was hot and loud and full of steam. The machines were rumbling, and the dryers were buzzing.

The irons were hissing.

I was standing at the ironing board, pressing a shirt that had already been pressed twice. I wasn’t paying attention; my mind was somewhere else with someone else.

Dante.

Two days.

It had been two days since the dinner, and since I saw his face, and since the world stopped spinning, and I realized that my past had caught up with me. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.

What was happening? Was destiny playing a trick on me? Was the universe laughing at my pain? I had run so far.

I had hidden so well.

I had sacrificed everything to keep my family safe, and now he was here in England and engaged to Natasha.

The thought made me sick.

Natasha.

Cruel, cold, hateful Natasha.

The woman who had slapped me in front of everyone and made sure to make my life a living hell since I walked into this mansion is the same woman who was about to marry my husband.

My Dante.

The father of my children.

The man I still loved with every broken piece of my heart.

It hurt.

It hurt so much knowing that he was moving on.

Knowing that he was going to marry someone else. Knowing that he would never know the truth that I was alive.

That I was here.

That I never stopped loving him.

Amaya’s hand touched my shoulder, causing me to jump. The iron slipped. I caught it before it fell.

"Emily, what is wrong with you?" Amaya’s voice was soft. Worried. "You’ve been like this for two days ever since the dinner. You’re not eating or sleeping well... You’re walking around like a ghost. What happened?"

I shook my head. I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t tell anyone. "I’m fine, just tired. The dinner was stressful. Mrs. Anderson has been on everyone’s minds. I just need to rest."

Amaya’s eyes were sharp.

She didn’t believe me.

She never did. "You’re not fine. You’ve been crying, and I know something happened you’re not telling me."

I felt the tears come. I blinked them back. "I can’t, I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it."

Amaya pulled me into her arms, holding me tight with her warm body.

Her arms were strong.

"You don’t have to talk about it. You don’t have to tell me anything. Just know that I’m here if you ever need to talk about it."

I broke into sobs. They tore out of my chest.

Loud.

Ugly.

Unstoppable.

I buried my face in her shoulder, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping me standing.

"He’s here," I whispered. "He’s here, and he’s getting married, and he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know I’m alive."

Amaya didn’t ask who, she just let me cry

"Ariana."

The voice was sharp.

Cold.

Familiar

I pulled back from Amaya, wiping my face with my sleeve.

I turned around.

Natasha was standing in the doorway.

Her arms were crossed.

Her eyes were hard.

I wiped my tears and straightened my uniform. I pulled my mask up to make sure it was covering my nose and mouth. "Yes, Miss Natasha? How can I help you?"

Natasha’s eyes moved from me to Amaya. Then back to me. "Come with me. Now."

I didn’t argue. I followed her out of the laundry room.

Down the hallway.

She didn’t say anything.

She just walked.

We stopped at the main staircase a tray was sitting on the table.

A silver tray with a teapot, tea cups, and a plate of biscuits.

Steam was rising from the spout.

Fresh.

Hot.

Ready.

Natasha pointed at the tray. "Take this to the gazebo, my guest is waiting to serve the tea. Pour the cups and leave. Don’t do anything but your job. Understood?"