Page 54 of Devil's Tulip

His steel gaze demands a response, but I give him nothing. “What was that back there? Did you fuck him? Is that why he looked ready to murder me? What the hell did you say to him, huh? Fucking ungrateful bitch.”

Thankfully, his cheap insults are all I have to endure for now. Uncle Aldo is careful not to hit me in front of witnesses—he’s too concerned with how it might make him look.

Of course, his men see my bruises and probably know exactly what’s happening behind closed doors, but they’ve always turned a blind eye to it.

I breathe through my nose, my numb state slowly dissociating as I think back to the cold look in Michael’s eyes at the airstrip earlier. I should’ve fucking made a run for it then, consequences be damned.

No—scratch that. I should never have gotten into his car that night. I should never have gone home with him at all.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

Hindsight is a bitch.

A hot tear slips down my cheek, stinging the bruise no doubt already forming on my face. I discreetly wipe it off and ruthlessly shut down my emotions. Again.

We drive to Uncle Aldo’s mansion in silence, the air thick with his anger.

As we pull into his compound and round the circular driveway, my body locks up. The mansion looms into view—too big, too familiar. My heart beats feverishly, cold dread filling my being as it really sinks in.

I’m back.

Back in his house. Back under his control.

And this time, I don’t think I’m getting out.

Because I know that no matter how much time I buy for myself, escaping again will be damn near impossible now that I’ve done it once and was able to stay hidden for so long.

Lightheaded panic grips me as my throat suddenly seizes up.

I wheeze, struggling for air—then I realize it’s not just panic.

It’s Uncle Aldo’s hand.

His thick fingers crush my throat, cutting off my air supply. My hands fly to his meaty wrist, clawing desperately as I choke, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. But his grip only tightens. Too tight. Too strong. I can’t…

Black spots swarm my vision. My lungs burn. My limbs go weak?—

Then, just when I think I’m about to pass out, he lets go.

I crumple forward, hands bracing against my knees as I gasp, coughing violently, sucking in greedy lungfuls of air.

“That’s for thinking you could make a fool of me,” he says coldly before shoving the door open and stepping out.

My own door swings open, and Jacob stands there, his face blank—as if he didn’t just witness an attempted murder.

So, just like I’ve changed, it seems my uncle has changed too. He no longer gives a shit about appearances.This is a bad development.For me, anyway.

Fucking Michael. I think fiercely as I stumble out of the car, still gasping—though I try to keep it quiet. Uncle Aldo walks ahead, and I have no choice but to follow him into the house. The lights from the golden chandelier in the living room are too bright, stabbing into my eyes like needles.

“You have a visitor waiting for you in your study, honey.”

I squint towards the familiar voice of my aunt Marie, who’s acting like I’m not even here.

Uncle Aldo scoffs. “Damn it, I told Carlo to stay in his house until the wedding.”

The wedding?

My pulse jumps as I watch my uncle go towards the direction of his study. Is he still planning to marry me off to Carlo?

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