Page 16 of The Wishing Game

"You might want to be careful with that so-called evidence," he warns.

"Is that a threat?" I look Matthew straight in the eye.

"Of course not. Call it friendly advice. We were family, were we not?" He chuckles. "Although..." His eyes linger over my body. "Maybe I could help you out," he adds suggestively. "If your marriage gets annulled, you'll get deported."

His meaning sinks in, and before I know it, I curl my hand into a fist and aim it at his smug face. He doesn't expect it, which makes it even better when I nab him in the nose. He's pretty sensitive, too, because blood pours down his face immediately.

"You fucking bitch," he bites out right before he strikes me back, his palm making contact with my cheek.

The blow makes me lose my balance and I fall backward.

"You should be fucking thankful I offered you a way out. Hell, you should be kissing my damn shoes for even entertaining touching your pathetic little self, you fucking gold digger."

I tilt my chin up defiantly, my eyes shooting daggers at him.

"Even if you gave me all of Nikki's fortune, I wouldneverlet you lay one finger on me."

He takes a handkerchief and wipes the blood off his upper lip.

"You'll regret this." He shakes his head, his lip twitching in displeasure.

"Bring it on," I mutter.

He takes a step closer to me, his hand raised. But right at that moment, Mr. Daniels's assistant walks in, and Matthew immediately puts himself together, pretending nothing is wrong. And just like that, he's gone.

"Are you all right, miss?" the assistant asks me, coming to help me to my feet.

"I'm fine, thank you." I give him a slight smile before I ask him if there's any back exit I can use. He points me to the service elevator, and without looking back, I'm out of there.

I walk for a couple of streets before I stop, realizing that I have no home to return to. Of course, there is Noelle, and she is likely waiting for me to contact her. I reach into my pocket for my phone, but instead of dialing her number, I just stare at the screen.

My stomach releases a low growl, and I swallow hard.

It's been hours since I last ate, and right now I'm not pleasant company. Maybe I'll call her later.

After a few moments of going back and forth on what's the best course of action, I decide to grab something to eat first and talk to her later. Likely, she'll want to talk to me about Nikki, about the accident, about...everything. And no matter how much of a strong front I put on, I'm not ready to delve into those subjects. Especially not now after I realize the dangerous lengths his family is willing to go to in order to get their hands on his money.

Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I keep moving.

I have some money left, and although not much, it should be enough for a hot meal. Not one to waste unconscionable amounts on food, I try to find a cheaper place to eat, even as my stomach keeps protesting the decision.

God, but just thinking about Matthew's smug expression and his indecent proposal makes my skin crawl. His blow hadn't been unexpected, but it had certainly done a number on my already frail body.

Absentmindedly, I bring my hand over my cast, rubbing my fingers over the rough material. Maybe I should buy some painkillers too...

"Damn!" I halt, my eyes widening in shock.

My medicine. I forgot it.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I fight back against a wave of hopelessness. I can't succumb to it, no matter how much I'd like to.

But how much bad luck can one person have in one lifetime? I can barely afford to think about Nikki because then I'd truly lose it, but every little failure seems to push me further in that direction anyway.

I have to keep my head clear to punish his murderers, but how can I do that when every second is a struggle? How can Inotthink about him when he's all I've been thinking of for the past eight years?

I've always looked at my life as before and after Nikki.

For the first sixteen years of my life, I was simply athing, not a person. I served my purpose, but there was nothing more to me. Nikki was the first one to see me as a person and not an object. He was the first to tell me my thoughts mattered, or that I was smart despite my obvious lack of education. He was the first to truly seeme.

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