Chapter 19 - Facing the Past
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Dominic looked down at her, his protective instincts flaring violently. “Marin, you don't need to speak to him. He’s a coward who abandoned you.”
“I know,” Marin said steadily. “But if he’s here, he wants something. And I won't hide behind your gates. I want to look him in the eye.”
Dominic studied her face for a long moment, seeing the quiet determination that had won his heart in the first place. He nodded slowly.
“Bring him to the study, Carlo,” Dominic commanded. “I will be present.”
Ten minutes later, Marin sat in one of the leather chairs in Dominic’s massive study. Dominic stood behind her chair, a silent, terrifying sentinel.
The doors opened, and Andrew walked in.
He looked older, slightly heavier, and extremely nervous. His eyes darted around the opulent, intimidating room before finally settling on Marin. When he saw the towering, scarred man standing protectively behind her, he swallowed hard.
“Marin,” Andrew said, forcing a weak smile. “You look... wealthy.”
“What do you want, Andrew?” Marin asked coldly, entirely unbothered by his presence.
Andrew shifted uncomfortably, pulling a folded envelope from his jacket. “I heard through some old friends that you’ve done very well for yourself. You're connected to... powerful people now.”
“Get to the point,” Dominic growled, his voice a low rumble that made Andrew flinch.
“I started a business,” Andrew blurted out quickly. “A construction firm. But we ran into some financial trouble. We owe a lot of money to the bank. They’re foreclosing next week.”
He looked at Marin with a pathetic, pleading expression. “Marin, we used to mean something to each other. I know I messed up by leaving, but I was scared. You have money now. You have influence. I just need a small loan to keep my business afloat. Fifty thousand. Please.”
Marin stared at the man she had once thought she would marry. He wasn't here to apologize for abandoning her. He wasn't here to ask about Eli, the boy who had needed a father. He was here because he smelled money.
She felt absolutely nothing for him.
“Andrew,” Marin said softly, leaning forward.
He smiled hopefully.
May you like
“When Laya died, and I was sitting on the floor of a studio apartment trying to feed a screaming infant with fifteen dollars in my bank account, I called you,” Marin reminded him, her voice perfectly calm. “You told me that my problems were not your responsibility. You told me I was ruining my life.”
Andrew paled, opening his mouth to speak, but Marin raised a hand, silencing him with a gesture she had learned from the man standing behind her.
