LITTLE MISS PETTY

58. WHAT IS WORSE THAN DEATH?

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DANIEL'S P.O.V:

My fourth grade Teacher told us about mortality. She said that every human being, every living creature lives and dies. The Oxford Dictionary defines death as "...the action or fact of dying or being killed."

Yeah, I was familiar with the word death.

I had a pet when I was three. A baby lizard I caught in a garden party my parents were invited to. I put it in my blazer and carried it home till my Mother found it on my bed. I remember her telling me I didn't know a thing about raising lizards. She helped me though, she did. But then my Father crushed it with the sole of his shoe when she snuck out of her cage. He showed no remorse towards Lilibeth's death and told me I was stupid to want to train a lizard.

My oldest brother was the next on the list. He died in a car crash when I was around thirteen years old.

The next was my Father, David Snow. My Mother poisoned him when I was nineteen.

So yes, I had a good knowledge on what death was.

But none of their deaths could compare to the feeling I got as my soul and every part of my body died as I witnessed André Lombardi propose to one woman who gave me sanity. I mentally chuckled, she said yes.

Yes to being his wife.

Was my trip to America in vain? Was me closely watching her in many places in vain? Allowing her to see me, allowing her to remember me in case she had forgotten. Did she forget?

The way her eyes twinkled with expectancy at Lombardi's child's birthday gave me hope. The way she ran after me, the way she asked my men that were all undercover if Daniel Snow was following them to set the tables of a child's birthday party. All of that...was it in vain?

Or did I not act well?

Or maybe I should stand up from the seat I sat at the extreme ending of the hall that held their stupid merger party. Stand up and do what exactly? Find the nearest bottle and bash Lombardi's head? Then take a hold of Chloé wrist and drag her out of this place, kidnap her cute ass and run to Eastern Europe where her Father and fiancé would never find her?

Fuck it.

I didn't really know what to do next because of the surging feeling my body was going through. Chloé always made me feel this way anytime she was in the presence of someone else that was not me, irrespective of gender, age, or relation. I didn't care. I almost lost it when I heard the French President's idiotic son was trying to canoodle with her. Rubbish.

My eyes narrowed at a figure who appeared like her whole world just crumbled right in front of her very own eyes. Gabriella Maria Fernanda Audenzia Dalmonte. She certainly aged with grace over the past few years and earned herself a name in both the business and entertainment industry. A name that had a lot of controversies and backlash revolving around it. She wasn't the most liked person in the world, that was for sure.

I watched the way she backed away slowly as the entire hall congratulated the happy couple. Happy couple my half-British arse. She belonged to me, no one else. And now I was watching her in someone else's arms. The agony. As Gaby walked away, I decided to follow the depressed looking damsel.