Sana's POV

He left after staring at me for a few moments — or maybe he left so he could control his anger. Why is that man angry now? What’s his problem?

He’s the one who told me to go to hell.

First he said I am nothing, but then he came here to claim me as his wife. When I said no, he left in total anger.

He is psychic.

AND - I just comfirmed the fact... he indeed is that child Leo.

I was doubtful at first, but now I am sure.

I sank down against the wall into a sitting position and placed one hand on my heart and the other on my trembling lips.

The sensation of his soft yet hard lips was still there — the way he kissed me with so much desire, his taste, his smell.

Oh my God, I’m insane! What the hell is wrong with me? I tell myself and lift my hand away from my lips, but it lands on them again. That night I fell asleep on the rather cold wooden floor of my room.

The next morning, after I woke up and took a shower, I decided to go down and have breakfast since I hadn’t eaten yesterday.

On my way I saw a model-like woman coming out of his bedroom in nothing but his shirt.

I felt as if someone had banged my heart and I was dead.

After a moment she stopped right in front of me and flipped her hair to the left.

“So now I see why he left you even on your marriage night. You are nothing that can satisfy a man,” she said and laughed ironically.

I tried to walk past her, but she grabbed my shoulder and said, “Stay away from him. Even if he is your husband now, he will never be yours. He was mine. He is mine and he will stay mine.” Then she left.

I wanted to shout at her that she could keep that ugly ass if she wanted — I don’t care — but at the same time my mind asked, “Do I?”

After standing there for a few moments I walked downstairs into the dining room and sat in one of the chairs, not looking at anyone while everyone stared at me.

I found myself looking at him, but he was too busy pushing her face away. Talk about clingy.

Damn her. I know this will never work. I don’t want this. I will leave him at the first chance I get.

After the maids served our food we started eating, and it was peaceful until she ruined it.

“Tell me she means nothing to you and you will never leave me because of her,” she said loudly so that everyone — and I mean everyone — could hear.

I didn’t let it get to me and kept eating my breakfast.

I found him looking at me as if I would say something like, “No, he is mine!” Huh. He’s dreaming. As if. Why the hell did you even looked at me!

I will never fall for you.

He had made me the psychic girl I was when my parents died. Just over one week he had turned me into that monster again. He was the first person to calm me down back then.

“She is nothing, baby. Why did you say such a thing?” he taunted; I could see the smile on his face, but as I said, I don’t give a damn.

“Just — you know, she is so sexy and all that. I thought you would leave me and she made me realize it,” that bitch said in a fake-hurt voice.

“Shhh. What did she do?” he asked her, placing a hand on her cheek and making her sit on his lap.

“When I was coming downstairs for breakfast she found me closing your bedroom door and I was in your shirt only. So — she… she (hiccup) she…” she hiccuped and buried her face in his chest.

Wow. What a drama queen.

“Shhhh. You don’t have to tell me. I’ll find out myself,” he said, looking at me. Yet again, I don’t give a damn.

I picked up a knife from the table when he asked if I wanted to explain myself here or if he had to use the hard way — and then—I throw that knife straight at her.

It embeds in her cheek and she screams so loud some people cover their ears.

I bang the table and stand up, holding another knife in my hand.

“You want him?” I shout, pointing at him. “Then you can have him. I don’t give a damn! But if you spread lies about me” — I point the knife at her — “I will kill you.” I throw the second knife and it whistles past her ear, nicking it.

Another knife picked up and thrown, this time at HIM...

The room erupts.

Someone grabs my wrist. Another hand clamps over my mouth. Maids rush forward, shrieking. The woman whose cheek is cut screams, clutching at blood and mascara, her face a mask of terror and fury.

He doesn’t move at first. He sits there like a statue, his eyes hard and cold. Then he stands — slowly — the room falling silent like the calm before a storm.

“You,” he says quietly, and the words cut deeper than any blade. The hush that follows is heavier than any shout.

Hands seize me and drag me back. I struggle, dig my heels in, but they are many and I am alone. Someone slaps my face — hard. Pain stings, but it clears the fog in my head.

He steps between me and the others and looks at the wounded woman, then at me. For a second his face is unreadable. Then he breathes out, “Take her to the guest room. Lock the door.” His voice is low, commanded, final.

They pull me away. As I’m dragged out, I try to speak — to tell him that she lied, that he doesn’t know the truth — That I am that Saan - but my words are swallowed by the murmurs and the slapping of shoes on marble.

In the hallway they shove me into a room and slam the door. I bang on it until my fists ache, but no one listens. The door locks from the outside.

Alone in the dim room, the adrenaline fades and the shaking starts. My chest heaves; terror and rage fight inside me. I curl on the floor and press my nails into my palms until the pain steadies me.

“He’ll believe her,” I whisper to the empty room. “He’ll believe her and hate me.” That bitch of a man! You will regret when you come to your senses... Because you know and I know what kind of a monster I am beneath my mask.

Tears come, hot and helpless. But underneath is something else — a low, steady ember that won’t die. I am not finished. I will not be finished.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand and force myself to breathe. The knife bites at my skin, the wound on her cheek flashing in my mind like a mark I never wanted to leave. I will not let this be the end.

Outside, voices fade and footsteps walk away. The house goes back to its strange, polite calm. Inside me, the storm grows.

I will get out. I will make them see. I will find a way to tell them the truth — or make them pay for believing a lie.

But for now, I sit in the dark and plan.