Page 83 of Beautiful Villain
The words came out calm.It felt like I was asking about the weather instead of the man who’d raised me.
Archie blinked, then smiled—soft, almost offended.
“Of course I did, Mikayla,” he said.“Did you really think me heartless?”
I scoffed, a short, broken sound that scraped my throat.Heartless didn’t even begin to cover it.He wasn’t without a heart—he simply enjoyed knowing exactly how and when to use it.
“Well,” I said lightly, because if I didn’t coat it in sarcasm I’d choke on it, “I suppose a thank you is in order.”I met his eyes.Held them.“At least now you already have somewhere to bury me.Nice and tidy.Family plot and all.”
That got his attention.
He straightened, taking a step back—putting space between us.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “for someone who caused his death, you’re remarkably upset about the outcome.”
My fingers dug into the sheets beneath me.
“Even knowing I would have killed him if you ran,” he continued, voice smooth, conversational, “you still did it.You still chose to leave.”His head tilted, eyes sharpening.“Tell me, Mikayla, does defiance only matter to you when you’re the one dishing it out?”
Something hot and ugly tore through me, finally cracking the numb shell I’d wrapped myself in.
“You’re a fucking parasite, Archie,” I hissed.
I knew what that word could cost me.I knew how thin the line was between tolerance and punishment with men like him.I said it anyway.Because some lines were worth bleeding for.
For a long moment, he just watched me.
As though I was a puzzle piece that had shifted shape when he wasn’t looking.He didn’t look angry or offended at my words.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
“You loved him,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
The room went silent.
I didn’t answer.My throat had closed around the truth, and my eyes burned in a way that had nothing to do with tears.
He exhaled softly, like he’d arrived at an interesting conclusion.
“How inconvenient,” he murmured.
He turned toward the door, pausing with his hand on the frame, then turned back to look at me, as though weighing his words.Then he dealt his final hand.
“You really think Cavalho is some kind of saint,” Archie went on, his tone almost gentle.“So tell me—why did he let you walk?Why didn’t he stop you, knowing you’d end up under my roof?”
I stayed quiet.
“You think it was coincidence he ‘rescued’ you on our wedding day?”he pressed.“That he took you, kept you… and then just handed you back to the world when you were inconvenient?”
Something flickered behind his eyes.Satisfaction.Calculation.He’d hit the right spot, and he knew it.
“Wake up, Mikayla,” he said softly.“You were a bargaining chip.To him just as much as to me.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?”
