Beneath Her Bastard Boss

Chapter 94

She waited a week

Seven days of silence.

She hadn’t planned to wait that long. She’d told herself she’d give him two days. Three, tops. Enough time to cool down, breathe, process what she’d told him. That’s what people did when they were scared. They pulled away. They panicked. But then they came back.

Luca would realize that she had never cheated on him and come to his senses.

She told herself that every morning. Whispered it like a prayer while she stared at her phone, thumb hovering over his contact. Every time it buzzed, her stomach flipped. Every time it didn’t, something inside her cracked.

She left messages. One voicemail.

“Please call me.”

He never did. He ignored her calls and voicemail.

By day five, her hope had started rotting. It didn’t crumble–it curdled. Turned bitter. Sour. Something she didn’t recognize. She told herself she wouldn’t call again. That if he wanted to talk, he’d talk. That she had dignity. That she wasn’t going to beg. She couldn’t do that to herself after everything. The names he had called her.

But on day six, at 2:03 a.m., she called anyway.

He still didn’t answer.

The next morning was when the nail went in the coffin for her hope. Not from him. Not from a phone call or an apology or any ounce of human decency.

No.

She found out in a headline.

“Heir to the De Santis Empire Set to Marry Italian Royalty.”

The photo was sharp. Luxurious. Carefully staged. Luca was in a dark suit, hand resting lightly on the waist of a girl who looked like she belonged in a school uniform, not an engagement announcement. The caption said she was the daughter of some old–money family from Rome. Eighteen years old. Barely legal.

A baby.

Sutton stared at the screen like it had punched her.

She read it again.

Then again.

drop so much as it hollowed. Like someone had scooped out her insides with a spoon and left the shell of her behind to figure it out. She

Eighteen.

the year he graduated from college. Someone soft. Moldable. Obedient. The perfect little Italian virgin wife for

was absurd. And it

1/3

know how long she sat there, staring at the screen, but her hand eventually moved on its own–closed the browser,

apartment, and threw the phone against the wall

hit hard. Cracked.

on the edge of the bed

dry. She didn’t have time

him the truth.

A baby.

needed to leave. And she

her

shake. “I’m

“What?”

contract,” Sutton said,

then the woman exploded. Screaming into

mind? Do you know how many campaigns

career!”

“I don’t care.”

you drunk? Is this

to model anymore,” she said, voice

Then

work in this industry again.

Because Audrey is about to die.”

talked out of it. Before the

how her entire

her suitcase

apartment like a ghost, tossing clothes into bags, pulling artwork off walls–but leaving them. She would only be taking what fit into suitcases. The vanity drawer stuck.

lines. Still clear. Still

She picked it up.

Held it.