While My Daughter Burned to Death, My Husband Soaking in A Hot Spring Chapter 08

While My Daughter Burned to Death, My Husband Soaking in A Hot Spring Chapter 08

Enzo called me to curse.

“Adriana, how dare you sell the house? Half that house was paid for with my money. Either buy it back right now or transfer me my share immediately.”

“Enzo, is your head full of water?” I said. “You’re asking me for money? Unless you die to atone for Aurora, I might consider lending you a little. Otherwise, keep dreaming.”

He threatened me and told me to wait.

He thought Serena had money.

After all, even a fallen noble was still above commoners.

But Serena had long developed the habit of spending lavishly.

In less than a month, the designer bags, jewelry, and gems she had brought out of the Visconti family were all sold off.

The child needed money for treatment.

Food cost money.

Rent cost money.

By the time the police arrested Enzo, the council had already removed him as boss.

All power and all business had been taken back.

He now truly had nothing.

He tried to find work, but his reputation had spread throughout the underworld in northern Italy.

No family would take in a man who had killed his own daughter.

Serena had been spoiled for more than twenty years and knew how to do nothing.

The two of them argued every day.

“You useless waste! You can’t even earn money,” Serena cursed. “Go beg Adriana. Beg her for money. My son needs treatment. We’re running out of time.”

“You think I’m still the rich noblewoman I used to be? If you don’t have money for his bone marrow transplant, none of us will survive.”

Once Enzo learned Serena had no money, he stopped holding back too.

“If you hadn’t burned through all the money, we would’ve matched and treated him already.”

“You have the nerve to blame me? Back then, you married that fool for money. Now you got kicked out. You deserved it.”

The two of them started fighting.

The child cried beside them.

The next day, I received a call from Enzo.

His voice was weak, as if he had cried.

“Adriana, I’m willing to kneel before Aurora’s grave and atone. Give me one hundred thousand euros for the child’s surgery.”

I bit my lip, tears pouring down uncontrollably.

“Enzo, you really are a great father.”

He had killed his own daughter.

Now, to save his mistress’s son, he was begging on his knees for money.

I did not tell him Serena’s son was not his.

After our IVF, Enzo had been diagnosed with azoospermia.

He could not father children.

That child, who was eight months younger than Aurora, could not possibly be his.

Now he was begging me for someone else’s child.

“Kneel at Aurora’s grave for one full day,” I said.

He did.

A whole day, from sunrise to sunset.

The next day, he called me, his voice choked with tears.

“Adriana, I wronged you. I wronged Aurora. I don’t need one hundred thousand anymore. Give me fifty thousand. I’ll earn the rest myself. Please.”

“Enzo, an apology that comes too late is worth less than grass.”

I hung up.

Fifty thousand?

Not a chance.