Chapter 4 - Elena Begs For Mercy Now
Panicked and desperate, Elena scrambled across the slippery marble floor on her hands and knees to grab Milo’s trouser leg.
“Please, Milo! We can fix this! Don't ruin our lives over a baby who won't even remember this!” Elena wailed hysterically.
Milo looked down at her with eyes so cold and empty that they felt like chips of winter ice in an arctic wind.
“She is my flesh and blood, and you tried to throw her off a thirty-foot drop like she was garbage,” Milo growled softly.
“I was just stressed! The pressure of this family, the estate, the expectations—it made me lose my mind!” she pleaded.
“You never loved anyone except yourself and the bank accounts attached to my last name,” Milo stated with unyielding finality.
He kicked his leg back gently to shake her grip loose, sending her sprawling flat onto her stomach across the white marble.
Elena buried her face in her arms, howling in genuine despair as she understood her golden cage had just turned into a prison.
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The high-end American mansion felt colder than a tomb, stripped of all its superficial luxury by the harsh light of truth.
Milo ignored her weeping entirely, keeping his protective embrace locked securely around his terrified, crying baby girl.
