I Picked His Mistress, I Found My Self

Chapter 3

Damien's eyes settled on the red handprint blooming across her pale cheek, and his brow drew tight. "Look at what you've turned into."

He waved a hand. The bodyguards stepped forward and forced Seraphina down to her knees.

He pulled a small knife from his pocket and pressed the handle into Chloe's hand. "Give her one back. On the face." He said it the way another man might've ordered a drink. And just like that, Seraphina's face was finished.

His voice was casual, the way one might comment on the weather, and with that he sealed Seraphina's fate.

Even though Seraphina no longer cared about much, she hadn't expected this. "I'm your wife! You're really going to let her ruin my face?"

Panic rose in her chest. She struggled, but Chloe was already walking toward her, hate burning in her eyes.

"Even my own mother never laid a finger on me. You actually slapped me, you b***h!" She lifted the blade and laid the cold edge against Seraphina's cheek.

Seraphina raised her eyes to Damien. She knew he was waiting. Waiting for her to soften, to beg.

But she didn't want to beg him anymore. She didn't want to gamble on his heart anymore.

Pain raked across her face. Drops of blood fell to the floor.

Chloe tossed the knife aside and shrank against Damien's chest, her gaze flickering. "She looks terrifying!"

In truth, she had noticed from the very first glance how much she resembled Seraphina. Only now, with Seraphina's face ruined, did she feel safe.

Something restless and ugly stirred in Damien. He was right here, and she hadn't called for him. Did she really think he would stand by and watch her be cut?

"Take Mrs. Hawthorne to the hospital. Get the best surgeon for the reconstruction."

Seraphina bit down hard on her lip. Hatred had already crawled into her eyes. The weight of her stare stiffened his spine, and he looked away. "You wanted Northpine Technologies. Consider it your compensation."

She managed a strained twitch of her lips. Without a mirror, she already knew her face was a wreck. "Then thank you, Mr. Hawthorne."

She refused the bodyguards' escort and went to the hospital alone. She'd had an appointment scheduled there for today already.

The doctor froze when he saw her. "Your prenatal results came back. The fetal heartbeat is faint." He gathered himself. "Let me treat the cut on your face first. Then go home and rest. We'll do another exam in a little while."

"Thanks."

By the time her wound was bandaged, and she returned home, Chloe's bright voice was already drifting through the house.

"Right here, right here. I want a vase right here, so I can see fresh flowers every day.

"And here, I want a rocking chair. We can read together.

"And this couch, I don't like it. Throw it out, please?"

Seraphina stopped in the doorway. This was the first time Damien had ever brought a woman home. No matter how badly things had gone before, he had never crossed that line.

He spotted her and tipped his chin. "I'm not past curfew. It's only nine. Happy now?"

She had no strength left to argue.

He suddenly seized her hand. "Chloe can't sleep in a strange bed without me. You'll take another room tonight."

"Fine."

"She didn't bring clothes. Lend her something to sleep in."

"Fine."

That set him off. "What is this? Fine with anything? If I handed myself over to her too, would you just say fine to that as well?"

Seraphina looked at him quietly, the corner of her mouth lifting in a thin, mocking line. "Isn't that exactly what's happening already?"

His mouth opened, then closed. He turned his face sharply away.

As Seraphina shut the bedroom door, the conversation drifted up from below.

Chloe's voice, sugary and false. "Damien, she loves you the same way I do. You're hurting her by doing this."

"No. She doesn't love me."

There was something raw in his voice, something close to anger. "She only loves my money."