The Don’s Fake Poverty Chapter 06

The Don’s Fake Poverty Chapter 06

Aria’s POV

Security didn’t dare touch the legendary ruthless Don. They let him block the VIP backdoor.

“Aria, please!” His eyes were bloodshot. His voice shook wildly. “Even if you give me the death penalty, at least give me a chance to explain. Come see my estate. Just one look.”

I didn’t even look at him. I walked straight to my team’s van.

“I still have your old dark green notebook!” he suddenly roared. “It has all your early design sketches!

Don’t you want it?”

My steps halted.

That book held the soul of my early designs.

I left so desperately three years ago that I didn’t have time to pack it.

I turned my head, eyes icy.

“Send me the address,” I said coldly. “I’m only going to get my things. And stay away from my car.”

An hour later, my car pulled up to the Moretti Estate.

Three years ago, his armed guards chased me away from these iron gates like a stray dog.

Today, the massive carved iron gates were wide open for me.

I walked into the main mansion in my heels.

At first glance, my brows furrowed tight.

The grand hallway wasn’t lined with priceless art. It was lined with me.

Oil paintings of me chopping vegetables in our cramped kitchen, sketching under that dim lamp. There

was even a sketch of me riding a broken bike in the blizzard.

This sick possessiveness made my stomach turn.

Killian followed closely behind me.

“Aria…” He looked at my back, speaking desperately. Tears welled in his eyes. “That snowy night three years ago… I didn’t leave you to carry Chloe because I loved her!”

I stopped, but didn’t look back.

“Her brother died taking a bullet for me! He had a deadly, rare genetic bleeding disorder!”

Killian’s voice was thick with pain and regret

“Chloe has it too. She fell down the stairs that day, cracked her head open. If I hadn’t gotten her to the hospital, she would have bled out and died. I owed her brother a life. I couldn’t let her die on my watch.”

Then, terrified I would cut him off, he threw out his next excuse.

“And those Instagram photos! Holding hands, the bed picture, they were all fake!”

He yelled with red eyes, clutching at straws.

“I was dealing with a family traitor that night. I passed out from pure exhaustion! She sneaked into my room, staged those photos, and posted them! She just wanted you to back off. I never laid a finger on her! Aria, I swear!”

Only his heavy panting echoed in the grand hallway.

I finally turned around and looked at his tear-stained face.

I felt no anger. No sadness.

I suddenly sneered. My eyes held nothing but extreme pity and mockery.

“So what?”

I took a step closer. My gaze locked onto his eyes like a blade.

“You were scared she’d bleed out from a fall. But you weren’t scared that I-your wife, with a raging fever

and pneumonia-would freeze to death in a blizzard for the price of a hamburger?”

Killian flinched. His face went dead pale.

“You say the photos were fake. That you never touched her,” I glared at him. “But you let her get close to you. You let her sleep in your bed and take those pictures. Yet as your wife, I wasn’t even worth a hundred

bucks for a warm winter coat!”

“Don’t act like some devoted saint, Killian.”

Every word cut deep. I ripped his disguise to shreds.

“Your guilt for her was real, but so was your cruelty to me! Your excuses just make me sick.”

He looked completely drained of blood. He stumbled back two steps and covered his face in despair.

I didn’t bother looking at him again. I walked straight to the end of the hall.

I pushed the door open and froze for a second.

The room had no luxury furniture. It was dark, damp, and cramped.

It was a perfect replica of our crappy Brooklyn apartment.

Even the creaky wooden bed and the peeling secondhand wardrobe were identical.

I looked at Killian as he followed me in. My lips curled in a mocking smile.

“You deserve an Oscar for this performance,” I mocked, looking around. “Building a literal trash dump inside a golden mansion just to relive your acting days. Tell me, did you get addicted to playing poor?”

He stood frozen. His lips trembled, but no words came out.

I walked to the bed, pulled out the dusty metal box, and opened it.

My dark green notebook laid quietly inside.

I took back my life’s work and tossed the empty box on the floor.

“Aria…” Killian finally broke. His knees gave out, and he dropped hard next to the broken box.

He reached out to grab the hem of my dress. His tears smashed against the moldy floorboards.

“Please… don’t look at me like that… I know I was wrong…”

Listening to his agony, I stepped back in my heels, avoiding his touch.

“Killian. My only regret in life is ever loving you!”