Chapter 4He Hid Our Daughter to Break Me

Sophie flinched, her face draining of color.

She had never seen Dominic, a man who always possessed terrifying self-control, lose his mind like this.

"Dom... since she is being this heartless, just file for divorce! With the Astor legal team, you can leave her with absolutely nothing. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

The word "divorce" hit Dominic's brain like a flaming knife.

A manic, almost unhinged laugh ripped from his throat. "Divorce? She thinks she has the right to divorce me?"

He forced himself to breathe. He knelt down, picked up the cracked, sparking phone, and dialed my mother's number.

It rang and rang. Right before it went to voicemail, the line clicked open.

Dominic did not even say hello. He barked into the receiver, "Helena! Is Caroline hiding at your place? Put her on the phone right now. I am done playing games!"

Dead silence on the other end.

Then, a raspy, broken sob crackled through the speaker.

"Dominic Astor. You absolute monster... You drove my little girl into an early grave. Are you happy now? You will never, ever touch her again!"

The call disconnected. A sharp dial tone buzzed in the air.

Dominic froze like he had been struck by lightning. The blood rushed out of his head, leaving a ringing in his ears.

But his massive ego fought back against the crushing tsunami of terror.

Veins popped on his forehead. Sweat soaked through his expensive shirt. He frantically typed a message to my number on the shattered screen.

"Caroline, so you got your mother in on the act too? Dragging an old woman into our fight, have you no shame?! If you want a divorce so badly, crawl back here and sign the papers! Do not force me to destroy your family's business!"

Message sent. Delivered. Left on unread.

Standing nearby, Sophie only heard the word "divorce." Pure, unfiltered greed lit up her eyes. She practically jogged toward the master bedroom, desperate to hunt down our marriage certificates.

But before she even opened a drawer, chaotic, violent noises erupted from the living room.

Dominic was acting like a rabid dog. He snatched up the weeping Cici from the sofa, practically crushing her against his chest, and stormed out the front door, radiating a terrifying, murderous energy.

"Wait! Dom! Where are you taking her?!"

The heavy oak door slammed shut in her face.

Out on the midnight highway, Dominic's sports car weaved through traffic like a guided missile.

My soul was sitting in the backseat, wrapping my phantom arms tightly around Cici, who was so terrified she could barely breathe.

Dominic, you absolute lunatic! If you want to kill yourself, leave my daughter out of it!

I watched the street signs blur past. We were heading straight for my mother's estate.

Five minutes later, the tires screeched against the asphalt. The car aggressively hopped the curb, parking directly in front of the Sinclair manor's iron gates.

The second Dominic stepped out of the car, he looked up.

Hanging high on both sides of the heavy wooden doors were massive, undeniable white and black floral wreaths. The ultimate symbol of a funeral.

"No. No, this is impossible."

"Caroline! Stop faking! Open this damn door!"

He looked like a trapped beast. He hammered his fists violently against the heavy oak, even as his legs buckled underneath him.

"Do not use this kind of sick, twisted prank to curse yourself! If you have the guts, come out here and face me!"

"That is enough!"