EMERALD
The drive back to the mansion was a long, suffocating silence. Marcus’s hand, which had been on my arm moments ago, now lay on the console, a few inches from mine. The cut on his cheek was a thin, dark line, a constant reminder of the public spectacle we had just endured. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. The polished facade he had shown the world had completely vanished.
He was clearly angry, his jaw tight, his knuckles white against the dark leather of the car. He didn’t say a word, and for that, I was grateful. I needed the silence to process the day’s events.
Francesca had been an absolute wild card, a weapon of chaos that had nearly dismantled my entire plan. But I had turned her weapon against her, and in doing so, I had solidified my position as the victim, and
