Cane's POV
This was priceless. I knew they would be shocked to see me, but I didn't expect the feeling to be this good. A thrilling tingle ran through me. It was sensational.
It took me twenty years. Twenty years of careful planning to get to this moment. I bet they thought I had forgotten what they did to me. But I never did. That memory is what pushed me to become powerful. And now, I am here. I am here for blood. I will do to them exactly what they did to me.
"Da... Da... Daniel?" the old woman stuttered, her face pale.
I gave her a cold smile. "It's Cane now. I see you still remember me. I like that—"
"What the hell, Dad!" Myron shouted, cutting me off. His face was a mess of confusion and anger. "You got remarried?"
I could see his chest moving up and down quickly. He was trying hard not to lose control in front of everyone. "Yes, I did," I said calmly.
"And you didn't think to tell me first?" he asked, his voice tight.
"Do I need your permission?" I replied, raising an eyebrow.
"No! That's not what I meant..." he stumbled over his words. "You know how women can pretend! I bet she's not who she says she is. I could have helped you check her background!"
Stephanie, who had been quiet, finally spoke. Her voice was like ice. "Yet, you're the one who got engaged to a gold-digging imposter."
Myron looked like she had slapped him. He was furious, but he couldn't say anything back. He knew he had lost, and everyone could see it.
Then, the old man, Mr. Dario, turned to Stephanie. His voice was soft, almost kind. "My dear," he said, "you must be careful. You don't know this man. He is not... a good person. He will only bring you pain."
Mrs. Dario nodded, her eyes begging Stephanie to listen.
"And how do you know that?"
"Child. We're elders. We can tell just by looking."
But Stephanie just lifted her chin. She looked at them with strong, clear eyes. "I owe him my life," she said firmly. "I love him, and I trust him with my whole heart."
Her words were like music to me. She was perfect.
I looked at the old couple's hopeless faces and then at my son's stunned expression. I felt a deep satisfaction. The scene was even better than I had imagined.
I put my arm around Stephanie. "Come on, my love," I said gently. "Our work here is done." I looked at Tiffany, who was still being held by the guards, her face wet with tears. "The police can handle her now."
Then, without another look at the broken family behind us, I led my wife away. The first step was over, and now the main act is about to begin.
The car ride home was completely silent. We were both lost in our own thoughts. I was the one who spoke first.
"Did you mean it?" I asked, my voice sounding too loud in the quiet car.
She looked at me. "Mean what?"
"What you said back there. About loving me. Trusting me with your whole heart."
She let out a short, harsh laugh. "I thought we were just playing our parts. The loving couple." Then she just turned and stared out her window.
She was right. That was the plan. But for some reason, her words felt like a small, sharp pinch in my chest.
A few minutes later, she spoke again. "You're going the wrong way. My apartment is the other direction."
My mood had turned cold. "I'm not wrong," I said flatly. "We're going to my place."
"Why?"
"There's no reason for us to live separately now. The whole world knows we're married."
"What about my things?" she asked.
"Armstrong has already collected them and taken them to the penthouse."
She didn't say anything else, just went back to her silence. I wondered what was going on in her head.
We soon arrived. She got out of the car slowly, her eyes wide as she looked up at the tall, luxurious building. She followed me inside, her steps hesitant.
I showed her to the room I had prepared for her. "You can bathe and change," I told her. "The cook is making dinner. Come downstairs when you're ready."
She just nodded and closed the door without a word.
I did the same, going to my own room to clean up. When I went back down, the dinner table was set, but Stephanie wasn't there. I was about to call for her when I heard her footsteps on the stairs.
I looked up, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. She looked stunning. She was wearing a short, light gown that flowed around her. I felt a sudden, hot rush of desire and quickly sat down to hide it.
Just as we were about to start eating, the front door burst open. An angry Myron stormed in. He stopped short when he saw Stephanie, surprised to find her here.
"Dad," he said, his voice tight. He then turned to Stephanie. "Stephanie, please leave. I need to talk to my father in private."
Stephanie stood up. Myron and I both thought she was going to leave. Instead, she walked right up to him and slapped him hard across the face.
He was furious. "Stephanie, how dare you—"
Slap! She hit him again, even harder.
"What the hell, Stephanie!" he shouted.
Slap! A third blow landed, sharp and final.
There was a heavy silence. They were both breathing heavily. Finally, Myron let out a long, tired sigh. He looked at the floor, then back at her.
"Stepmother," he said, the word clearly tasting bitter in his mouth. "I need to speak with my father. Please, can you excuse us?"
Stephanie gave a sweet, victorious smile. "That's better." Then she walked over to me, leaned down, and gave me a deep, slow kiss. "Don't be long, baby," she whispered against my lips. "I'll be waiting for you upstairs." Then she left.
The moment she was gone, Myron exploded. "You have no idea what you've done!" he yelled, pacing the room. "You're so clueless! You've made a huge mistake!"
"Why are you so against my marriage to Stephanie?" I asked, pretending to be calm. "What is your problem with her?"
He finally stopped and looked straight at me, his eyes burning with anger. "Because she's my wife!"
I leaned back in my chair and smiled my most evil smile. "You mean your ex-wife," I said smoothly. "I knew that all along."