The Heiress' Revenge

Chapter 165: I Hate You

Ariana’s POV

His body stepped back, and I fell because my legs wouldn’t hold me; my body was shaking. My mind was spinning.

I slipped down the wall.

My back against the cold surface.

My knees pulled up to my chest, and my face was buried in my hands.

The tears came.

They came hard and fast, and I couldn’t stop them.

Dante stood there looking down at me. His face was hard to read; his eyes were dark. His jaw was tight as he reached out his hand like he wanted to touch me.

Like he wanted to help me up, like he wanted to hold me.

I slapped his hand away.

Hard.

The sound echoed in the quiet room.

"Don’t touch me," I snapped. My voice was raw. Broken. "Don’t you dare touch me. Get the hell away from me. I hate you. I hate you so much."

Dante stepped back.

His face changed.

Something flickered in his eyes, hurt and confusion, like I wasn’t just begging him to fuck me harder."

"Ariana"

"No," I cut him off. I looked up at him. My face was wet as my whole body was shaking. "You don’t get to say my name. You don’t get to touch me. You don’t get to kiss me. You lost that right. You lost every right the moment you hid my son from me."

Dante’s face went pale.

His mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again. "I can explain."

"Explain?" I laughed. Was it an ugly sound? "You want to explain? You want to tell me why you stole my baby? Why did you let me think he was dead? Why did you let me mourn him for fourteen years?"

Dante stepped toward me. I held up my hand.

He stopped.

"I don’t want to hear it," I said. "I don’t want your excuses. I don’t want your apologies. I don’t want anything from you. You are nothing to me. Nothing."

"Ariana, please—"

"Please, what?" I screamed the words that tore out of my throat. "Please forgive me? Please understand? Please pretend like you didn’t mess my life. I can’t and k won’t. You took everything from me: my son, my children, my marriage, and my unborn baby; he’s dead because of you. Because of the stress. Because of the lies. Because of the betrayal. You killed our baby, Dante. You fucking killed him."

Dante’s face crumbled.

"I didn’t know," he said. His voice was barely a whisper. "I didn’t know about the baby—"

"Stop," I said, my voice was cold and flat. "Just stop, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care what you knew or didn’t know. I don’t care about your excuses. I don’t care about your guilt. I don’t care about you."

I pushed myself up off the floor.

My legs were weak.

I sat in front of him. I looked him in the eyes.

"Do you want to know why I came back?" I asked with my voice steady now and hard. "Not for you, never for you. I came back for my children. They are mine, not Melissa’s. Not yours. My and I are going to take them. I am going to take them away from this place. Away from you. Away from her, and I am never coming back."

Dante reached for me. "Ariana, you can’t. They’re my children too. I have rights."

"You have nothing," I said. I stepped back. Out of his reach. "You gave up your rights when you forgot about us. When you married her. When you let her take over. When you sat in that chair and let her destroy everything we built. You chose her. You chose her over us, over me. Over your children, and now you have to live with that choice."

Dante’s face was pale. "I didn’t choose her. I didn’t remember—"

"You could have tried," I said. "Please, Da te, just get out. I don’t want to see you."

There was a knock at the door.

We both froze.

Dante looked at me.

I looked at him.

The knock came again.

Louder this time.

Dante moved quickly.

He got back in his wheelchair.

He positioned himself behind the desk.

He put his hands on the armrests and took a deep breath.

I wiped my face of my tears. I smoothed down my dress and took a deep breath. I walked to the desk and sat down in the chair. I picked up a pen pretending to read the papers in front of me.

"Come in," I said with a calm voice.

The door opened.

Ares walked in.

He looked at me, then he looked at Dante. Then he looked back at me, his eyes narrowed.

He knew something was wrong.

He could feel it.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked. His voice was careful. Measured.

Dante shook his head. "No. Mrs Watson and I were just discussing business. I was about to leave."

Ares looked at me I nodded. "We were just finishing up. Mr. Russo was expressing some concerns about the partnership. I assured him everything is in order."

Dante looked at me, his eyes were dark. He wanted to say something. I could see it on his face, but he didn’t; instead, he just nodded.

"Mrs. Watson is very... persuasive," he said. His voice was tight. "I’m sure we’ll work everything out.

Ares walked to my side. He put his hand on my shoulder, protective and possessive, a show for Dante.

"I’m sure we will," Ares said. "My wife is very good at what she does. That’s why I trust her to handle things."

Dante’s jaw tightened.

His hands gripped the arms of his chair. He looked at Ares’s hand on my shoulder, then he looked at me.

"I should go," Dante said. "My wife will be wondering where I am."

He wheeled his chair toward the door. He didn’t look back.

The room was silent, and I looked at myself.

"What happened?" he asked. "Your eyes are red. You’ve been crying and don’t tell me it’s nothing. I can see it on your face."