Chapter 8
Lucinda slapped Preston.
The sound echoed off the stone.
He slowly turned his face back toward her.
Then smiled.
That smile frightened even Sebastian.
“There she is.”
Lucinda’s chest rose quickly.
“You lied to me.”
Preston wiped the corner of his mouth.
“For twenty years you called everyone else stupid for trusting men.”
He leaned closer.
“And now you're shocked your husband kept one thing?”
Her fingers curled.
“My father—”
“Enzo was never your father.”
The cruelty was immediate.
Deliberate.
Lucinda flinched.
Preston saw it.
Enjoyed it.
“He was a cuckold who raised another man’s daughter.”
Sebastian’s expression hardened.
Lucinda went white.
Preston kept going.
“Salvatore was a coward who hid you.”
His eyes moved toward Sebastian.
“And this one?”
A laugh.
“He inherited a throne built by men who couldn't even control their own bedrooms.”
Sebastian stepped closer.
Preston lifted his chin.
Still arrogant.
Still demanding the blow.
Sebastian stopped.
“No.”
Preston frowned.
“You’re going to listen instead.”
That unsettled him.
Sebastian looked at the tape.
“Why did Matteo want Salvatore dead?”
Preston did not answer.
Lucinda did.
“Vellani lost three men to my uncle.”
Preston’s eyes moved toward her.
She corrected herself bitterly.
“My biological father.”
Salvatore had killed Matteo’s brother during a port war.
Revenge made sense.
But not the cellar.
Not the hidden survival.
Not Preston’s involvement.
Sebastian asked:
“How old were you when Matteo died?”
“Twenty-three.”
“You knew him?”
Preston smiled.
“My whole life.”
Lucinda’s face collapsed a little further.
He had not merely discovered his paternity.
He had been raised with the truth.
“Why marry me?”
She asked it quietly.
Preston stared at her.
Then:
“Because you hated the same man I did.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Salvatore.”
“Yes.”
“You used me.”
Preston laughed.
“You were so eager to be used.”
Lucinda’s hand tightened.
He continued.
“You wanted someone to tell you Sebastian stole your life.”
“Enzo stole your name.”
“Salvatore stole your childhood.”
His smile became vicious.
“I gave you villains.”
Lucinda’s eyes filled.
“And you thanked me for it.”
Sebastian watched.
A marriage collapsing not because love disappeared.
Because its foundation had finally been named.
Preston had fed Lucinda's resentment for twenty years because resentment kept her useful.
Then Orlando looked toward the tape.
“There’s more.”
Preston moved again.
This time three bodyguards stepped forward.
His eyes flashed.
Sebastian nodded.
“Play it.”
Salvatore’s voice returned.
“Preston believes Lucinda will destroy Sebastian for him.”
Lucinda closed her eyes.
Then:
“But he is wrong about one thing.”
Static.
A long pause.
“Lucinda does not hate Sebastian.”
She opened her eyes.
“She hates what she believes he represents.”
Preston’s face hardened.
“And if she ever learns what Preston took from her…”
The tape clicked.
Stopped.
Sebastian stared.
“What did he take?”
Lucinda looked at Preston.
He did not answer.
Then Orlando whispered:
“The acknowledgment.”
Everyone turned.
“The note Salvatore wrote.”
Lucinda’s breath stopped.
Orlando looked at Preston.
“You didn't lose it.”
“You destroyed it.”
Preston said nothing.
Orlando shook his head.
“No.”
A pause.
“You kept it.”
May you like
Preston’s face changed.
Because apparently, somewhere in the Caradonna world, Salvatore’s written acknowledgment of Lucinda still existed.
