Amadeo used the same tactic when she'd finally mustered up the courage to go against him for once.
Stopping her mother's treatment.
He must have expected her to come crawling back, begging. He thought it'd work again. But someone interfered. Nikolas.
Her breath hitched.
He saved her from falling into a pit she'd dragged herself out of and he didn't even realize so.
She quickly wiped off the wetness that almost slipped out of her eyes. Composing herself, she adjusted the blonde wig she had on, made sure the mole she drew on was still there before stepping into the bar.
The last thing she wanted was anyone recognizing her. Or the paparazzi being all over in her face.
The air smelled faintly of alcohol and something fried. Laughters rose and fell around her and she avoided people bumping into her as she walked over to the counter.
Pulling her coat tighter, she slipped into a barstool and lifted her gaze. The bartender smiled at her.
