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Dante’s anger flared again. He picked up a paperweight from the table and threw it toward Triston. Triston caught it just in time, holding it in his hands before it could hit him square in the forehead.
Triston finally tossed the paperweight onto the couch and turned to face Dante.
"It doesn’t really matter if she’s Anya, or Annie, or some other goddamn rich heiress hiding things from you. You need to get that girl back. And treat her nicely. Treat her to the fucking world, for God's sake. You walked out on her on her wedding day! Just imagine what was going through her mind when you did that.”
Dante’s jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with intensity. Triston's words hit him like a punch to the gut.
“If she’s willing to marry you at the courthouse with no expectations, no deals, no prenup, think about how much she must like you to marry you. And you walked out on her." Triston shook his head. "Holy fucking Hell, Dante. How can you be this jealous?"
Dante gritted his teeth, his jaw tight as his mind raced.
His chest tightened with the thought that Anya might never come back to him. The terror of losing her forever gnawed at him.
He hadn’t realized it until now, but he had let jealousy and pride cloud his judgment.
***
At the Kingsley Manor, Janet paced back and forth, her eyes darting around the room as unease settled deep in her chest. Something wasn’t right. The pieces didn’t fit, and the more she thought about it, the worse her gut felt.
“That day… the sweater at the Carters’ house,” she muttered under her breath. “And that voice. Right before Charles pushed me out—when he was furious—I heard her voice when that maid closed the doors. It was so familiar… no, identical to Anya’s.”
Her thoughts raced, chasing possibilities she didn’t want to face. “Could it be true? Was Anya really Charles’ daughter? The long-lost Annie?”
She clenched her fists, panic beginning to crawl up her spine. “But I don’t have proof,” she whispered. “How do I even begin to confirm this?” Her lips curled in frustration. “Maybe I should just ask her directly. If it’s true, she wouldn’t hide it from me. She’s probably dying to brag about it. It’s not every day someone finds out they’re a goddamn heiress.”
Her stomach twisted at the thought. ‘If Anya really is Charles’ daughter… if she goes back to them…’
“I’d lose everything,” Janet whispered, her voice shaking now. “If I let her slip away, everything I built would fall apart.”
Without wasting another second, she grabbed her phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen before she straightened her expression and finally dialed Anya’s number.
The moment Anya answered, Janet launched in flatly, “I want to meet you. Let’s meet at Evenlyn Café tonight. Six o'clock.”
“Why?” Anya replied in the same flat tone, not bothering with any greeting.
Janet frowned immediately. “What do you mean why? Because I asked you to.”
“I’m not going to meet you, Mrs. Kingsley,” Anya said coldly. “I have no interest in ever seeing you again—even if we cross paths on the street.”
Janet’s face burned with anger. “Why are you talking to me like this? I really have something important to discuss with you.”
“I’m sure you do,” Anya muttered, her voice sharp. “But what’s important to you isn’t important to me.”
Just as she was about to hang up, Janet blurted quickly, “Are you still angry about that little fight the day you left?”
“Alittlefight?” Anya scoffed. Her voice rose. “You call that a little fight? That day, you almost had me raped, assaulted, and humiliated. And now you’re seriously asking me this?”
Janet took a deep breath, forcing her voice to stay calm. “Alright, alright—I get it. Maybe it was my fault. I shouldn’t have tried to scare you. But look, we’re talking now, right? You stayed at our house for some days. Can’t we meet once and forget it? Start fresh?”
Anya’s response was colder than ice. "I’ll think about it."
“There’s nothing to think about. You just have to come and talk to me. A quick chat tomorrow at the café—”
“IsaidI’ll think about it,” Anya said firmly. “If I want to meet, I will.”
And with that, she hung up, jaw clenched in frustration. Just as she slammed her phone on the table, it rang again. Dante’s name flashed on the screen.
She picked up the call anyway.