Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
“Interesting fact about history?
It tends to repeat itself.
We should be careful otherwise…
We might live through the same circle we tried to avoid in the first place.
And isn’t that just tragic?”
Diana
Diana
“I’m so sorry, Diana. There was no way to reason with them.” Mike sighs into my ear while I squeeze the phone so tight I’m surprised the damn thing doesn’t break. “Their decision was final. The building was a hazard, so they demolished it.”
“How could they do this without telling me?” I ask, pacing back and forth in my room, frustrated beyond belief with this whole situation. “I mean, could they do it without my permission?”
A long pause meets my question, and my stomach flips when his voice gentles, which is never a good sign.
Mike gives zero shits about anyone’s feelings.
His law firm is the only one I could afford, though.
“I need you to be calm for this. Hysterics would really sour my mood, and I don’t work well under pressure. ”
As if he ever works well, but I keep that tidbit to myself.
“I’m calm.”
As calm as a woman can be when her business is about to be taken away from her.
“You got scammed, Diana. The paperwork you signed means nothing. The building was public property. No one gave a shit about it, so that’s why you could use it for such a long time without anyone noticing. This new company bought it from the city, and now they can do whatever they want with it.”
Dropping onto the nearest chair in shock, I run my fingers through my hair, pulling at the strands and hoping all of this is just a bad dream. “Scammed? As in the person took my money and…”
“Well, that’s what it usually means, yes.”
His bored tone grates on my nerves, and I snap, “You checked my paperwork on this, and you missed it?”
“I told you to wait a while before signing the deal. We all make mistakes.”
Despite the shock, I shake my head in disbelief, and harshness coats my voice when I reply.
“You’re my lawyer. You’re supposed to make sure I never make mistakes.
” Silence greets me, and I wipe away the tears streaming down my cheeks as the full realization hits me.
“This means my inheritance is gone, and so is the building. I don’t have a business anymore. ”
I hear him opening a bottle in the distance, and I’m not even surprised that he starts his day with alcohol.
The man reeked of whiskey on the rare occasions we had to meet.
“To be fair, Diana, that shithole could never be considered a business.” I hear gulping sounds followed by an amused chuckle. “I’d be happy if I were you.”
Maybe the alcohol has already gone to this head because, as hard as I try, I don’t see what should make me happy about this situation. “You’d be happy?”
“Yes. The company that bought it will pay you one million dollars in compensation. That’s more than what you originally invested in it, right? So you have your one million, plus you don’t have that dump to take care of. A win-win, if you ask me. And I’d get a commission, of course.”
He sounds proud as hell while I’m processing yet another shock in the span of five minutes.
Why would a company pay me any compensation? Legally, they aren’t even obliged to tell me anything, let alone this. “Who bought it?”
“I don’t know. It’s confidential information, and who cares? We should celebrate. I get twenty percent, per our contract.”
“You missed a crucial piece of information, which cost me money, and you think you deserve your twenty percent?”
If only I had the confidence some of these men have, my life would have been significantly easier.
“Look at it this way, Diana. If it weren’t for my mistake, you wouldn’t get one million now.
So you’re welcome, and I’ll see you on Monday to hash out the details and sign the paperwork.
” He takes another gulp, and the annoying sound disturbs my ears.
“Congratulations on the marriage, by the way. The one million must be pocket change for you now, huh?” He barks a laugh. “Maybe—”
“Goodbye, Mike. And by the way? You’re fired. You won’t get a dime from me.”
I hang up on him and put the phone on the bedside table, stepping onto the balcony and gripping the banister hard. Cold wind whooshes over me and nips at my skin, bringing at least some kind of relief to the anger rocking me hard.
The moon is exceptionally bright in the dark sky, lit by thousands of stars, and the magnificent garden opening up to my view seems to mesmerize me and tempt me to explore it once again, hiding behind the endless rose bushes as if they could give me any solace.
I haven’t known peace since I’d entered this castle, and there is a reason for that.
Heat swirls through me, and the air hitches in my throat when my handsome yet cruel husband comes to mind, the man who’s been haunting my thoughts for a whole month despite my avoiding him every chance I get.
On instinct, I place my hand on my neck where he left his mark on me. It’s faded, and part of me hates myself for how I mourn the loss.
Somehow looking at it made me feel desired, wanted to the point of madness, even if he pushed me away afterward.
And as hard as I try to forget our hot encounter, the way my body awakened to pleasure for the first time, I can’t help and wonder what the hell happened.
Was it because I touched his scar?
“Could you be any more desperate?” I mutter to myself, sighing in resignation at my stupidity.
My body chose the man who awakened it, only for my mind and heart to rebel against the idea because his horrible behavior toward me cannot be excused.
In the past month, we never shared any mutual meals, to Matilda’s dismay, who kept on harping on about the rules, but we both ignored her on that account. We occupied our respective wings when we knew the other was home and made sure our paths never crossed.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the man had access to my schedule, or lack thereof. That’s how dedicated he was toward his mission to avoid me.
“Good evening, Mrs. Wright.” Leon waves and gathers more fresh roses into his wicker basket as the gardener beside him waters and tends to the ones nearby.
One thing I’ve learned fast is that the rosebushes are sacred in this house. Matilda seems to revel in them spread all over the house, even in the bathrooms.
And whatever the woman wants goes, which allows for this mansion to function as a well-oiled machine, smelling like a rose greenhouse that might suffocate you to death.
“Good evening, Leon.” I wave back, and my ring glistens, sending a colorful prism on the balcony floor and causing my heart to skip a beat once again.
Its beauty hurts and comforts me all at once as the diamonds hold my gaze prisoner whenever my eyes land on it, its heavy weight always reminding me that I might avoid my husband, but his claim is always on me for the whole world to see.
Hurts because, despite it being a Price piece, I know the sentiment behind it is fake and has no meaning for Orion. My bookworm heart can take a hike for all the fantasies filling my head.
Comforts because it’s the only thing that the reporters and social media tend to talk about in a positive light when it comes to this marriage.
Otherwise, we’ve been torn to shreds as paparazzi constantly tried to uncover our secrets, with rumors speculating from me being pregnant to Orion using me to get his inheritance.
I’m just glad no exes came out during all this mess, because I wouldn’t have taken that well.
To be rejected by your own husband and see women he actually found worthy enough to have sex with…yeah, fuck that.
I count this as a small blessing in this otherwise shitty situation.
“Dinner is ready,” Leon informs me. “I asked the chef to cook your favorite food tonight. It’s a celebration after all.”
My brow furrows, and I mentally check my calendar, wondering if I missed something. Since Leon is beaming, I muster up a smile and ask, “What are we celebrating?”
“It’s your one-month anniversary since your wedding day. Matilda announced it as a special occasion. We ordered a cake from the best bakery in town, and it’s your favorite.”
Keeping my smile intact takes inhuman strength right now because, freaking what? Who celebrates anniversaries when the couple goes out of their way to ignore each other? “I assume it’s a coconut cake?”
If I have to eat dinner in the celebration of the fake union, I hope to at least enjoy the dessert.
“Yes. We’re all waiting for you downstairs.” He goes back to picking up the roses while the gardeners put away their equipment and thank the maids who brought them bottles of water.
Most of the staff mind their own business, rarely lifting their eyes to meet mine. The only time I’ve seen them all loud and active around me was when they rearranged the furniture in my room and brought all the clothes Ria ordered.
Countless dresses, pants, blouses, expensive bags, and shoes topped by the one-of-a-kind jewelry.
I glance at my reflection in the mirror.
The long, silky gray maxi dress cascades down my form, covering every inch of my body and accentuating all my best features.
And while I have a love-hate relationship with heels, I slip on the silver ankle-strap shoes because, according to Ria, they make a perfect match with the dress.
She came up with all kinds of combinations for my various clothes and created my unique style, something majestic yet simple.
Whatever the hell that means. I never got the chance to explore my love for shopping as my father refused to spend money on my clothes, but I still remember my mother having a magical wardrobe.
She could stand in it for hours, trying to pick the best outfits to please my father, and then cry after he left because he didn’t appreciate her efforts. Nothing she did seemed to please him.
Nothing sans her death, that is.