Governing the She-Devil

16 First Major Fight

Saint went directly to the mayor's office. It was her second day, but people's eyes still lingered on her, wondering who she might be, tailing the drop-dead gorgeous mayor.

She knocked thrice before opening the door, lessening her chances of seeing another woman with her husband in a compromised position. "Seen the news?"

Sandro's gaze lifted in her direction—an indifferent expression painted on his face. "It wasn't me." He did not sound defensive. All that mattered was for Saint not to jump to conclusions.

Saint matched his indifferent expression. "I know. I'll take care of it. I'll be out." She turned her back and faced the door when a warm hand grasped hers.

"Where are you going?" Saint faced him once more. Sandro took a whiff of her strawberry-mint flavoured cigarette. "You smoked."

Amanda entered the office without knocking. Saint scoffed at the interference. She suddenly could not contain her emotions. "Amanda doesn't smoke but loves hanging around the smoking area. Might as well marry her once we divorce."

She turned and went out of the door. This time, Sandro wasn't able to stop her.

Saint drove to the hospital where Eli was confined. She needed to get to the bottom of this. The issue was a vital hit on Sandro's campaign since Eli provided proof.

Once she reached Eli's private room, bodyguards secured the main entrance. She scoffed at the sight. Eli did prepare well for his act. She pushed the door open without acknowledging the look on the bodyguards' faces. They knew too well not to touch her.

"I never thought that you were an actor. Have plans on changing careers?"

Eli looked really bad. Bandages were cascading all over his body. Both of his eyes were swollen, while his leg was hanging from a support.

"Oh, Saint, I never thought that you'd visit me." Eli's eyes were filled with sincerity. She almost believed them.

"Let's cut to the chase, Eli. Sandro would never hire someone to beat you up, let alone kill you." Saint sat on a velvet couch. Everything around the room screams luxury.

"Then who would beat me up? I almost died, Saint! Are you already in love with your husband, you're taking his side over your own blood?" Anger filled Eli's eyes. Saint couldn't look past his emotions. She couldn't discern whether he was acting or not.

"Where's your proof, Eli?" she mocked, not wanting to believe every single word that was coming out of her cousin's mouth.

"You really don't believe me? How can you trust him this much? You barely knew him for a week." Shock etched on Eli's face.

Is he still acting? Can't he understand that I caught him already?

Eli reached for a folder beside him, but his limp body did not let him. Saint walked forward and took the folder instead. Inside the folder were printed photos of a man talking to someone. The background of the pictures was a dead giveaway that they were taken on the outskirts.

She looked carefully at each photo. It was Sandro wearing a baseball cap, white shirt, and a pair of jeans talking to some thugs around that area. His stance was secretive, trying to hide his identity. Among the photos in her hands, one caught her attention. It was a picture of them in an alleyway outside the octagon. Saint briefly remembered everything. That night, Sandro came out of nowhere and picked her up.

"Or was it you? Did you conspire with Sandro? You always hang out on the outskirts." Eli's tone was laced with fear. If he was really acting, Saint could say that it was convincing.

She straightened her posture and let no emotion appear on her face. "I will never hire anyone to kill you. I'll do it myself."

Sensing that the conversation would lead to nothing, Saint went out of the room with the folder in her hands. The most sensible thing to do is confront Sandro. Eli was right. How much did she know about her husband? She couldn't even tell his birthday or his blood type.

Saint drove faster this time. She did not bother stopping at red lights. If not for her influence, her driver's license had been cancelled years ago.

Like a storm, she walked past everyone and darted her eyes on her purpose. When she reached outside the mayor's office, Train was about to greet her but sensed her mood and stopped midway.

She bashed the door open. Amanda was sitting on the edge of the table with her legs in a crisscross while Sandro was busy reading some documents. Both their heads raised towards Saint's presence. Amanda slightly shivered and stood on her feet.

Sandro's brows met at the confusion of his wife's action. Did he do something wrong? "Amanda, please leave," he said with a serious tone. He wanted to give his full attention to his raging wife.

Amanda obediently followed and left the room.

"What happened?" he asked. He raised his hand towards her, urging her to come closer.

With the same furious expression, Saint slammed the pictures on his table. "Explain this." Sandro looked over the photos, trying to understand the cause of her anger.

"You unexpectedly appeared that night. Was I your real purpose for visiting the outskirts or did you just see me in that alleyway after hiring some thugs to beat Eli up?"

Saint vividly remembered what happened after that night. He gave her the best night of her life. She enjoyed it to the highest extent because she thought that Sandro genuinely cared about her, but seeing the evidence Eli gave her changed everything. Was he using her as an excuse?

Understanding the weight of Saint's anger, Sandro closed the distance between them and held her trembling hands. This was the first time he had seen her this angry, but he should not worry because his conscience was clean.

"I came for you that night. I asked your father where you would be in the middle of the night. I got lost and asked around. If I did not take any precautions, I would be the one beaten up. The people of the outskirts were not fond of anything connected to the government, were they?"

Saint remained silent. Eli's face flashed right before her. If Eli was acting, he did a great job because she believed her.

"You still don't believe me, hmm?" Sandro's face was buried in the nook of her neck. His breath lingered on her skin. Soon enough, he was trailing kisses all over her exposed skin.