His Perfect Wife Strikes Back

171 We Can Not Leave

"You don't know anything," I said, "If Mickle hadn't come after me, I wouldn't have told the press that he had an illegitimate daughter. Because I can only be protected by exposing my identity to the press. Look at you, you opened up your genetic test to get the title of the President's daughter. You've completely messed up my plans. You might even annoy Mickle."

"But he wouldn't dare kill us," Mia said, taking a chance. "Now that everyone knows he's my real father, he wouldn't dare make us disappear in front of the media."

I only wanted to use the media's authority to bargain with Mickle, but Mia appeared in front of the public with this DNA test, compelling Mickle to admit that he and us were father and daughter. He most likely assumed it was my plan.

Mickle was most concerned with the recording, and if he used his official powers to dismiss it as a farce, Mia and I would be gone shortly.

This plan was fraught with danger, and Mia had us walking a tightrope. We would have fallen into the abyss if a strong wind had blown in our faces.

"Why would Mickle want to kill you?" Mia asked. "Do you have any secrets about him?"

I was silent for a few seconds. For a few seconds, I wondered if I should tell her the secret about the recording. I didn't trust her. This secret, if she knew about it, would be her weapon against Mickle.

Who knows what this stupid woman will do for power?

"Don't you ever wonder why Mickle is our biological father?" I asked, avoiding the subject.

"What's so strange about that?" Mia said in a relaxed tone, "Our mother is a rich lady and her husband is a rich man. Maybe she and Mickle hit it off at some fancy party, and they hooked up in private. Mickle abandoned our mother when she found out she was pregnant. Her husband had to accept that."

"You think our mother had an affair with Mickle?" I raised my hand angrily and slapped Mia. "Is that what you think?"

Mia obviously didn't expect me to hit her. Within a second of my hand slapping on her face, she froze. Then she pushed me onto the couch and yelled at me.

"Who are you to hit me?"

"Because you have insulted our mother," I rebuked her. "You have described our mother as a s.lut!"

"If she's not a s.lut, how could she be carrying another man's baby behind her husband's back?" Mia screamed, clutching her face, "She's not my mother at all. She's not even a mother. She didn't protect me. She made me a beggar!"

"What happened?" The door opened and Frade rushed in. He saw me lying on the couch and immediately yelled at Mia.

"What did you do to her?"

"She, she slapped me first." Mia pointed at me and yelled, "Why don't you ask her what she did to me?"

"I don't care what she did to you," Frade roared, "But if you hurt Eva and the baby in her belly, I will not hesitate to kill you."

"Baby?" Mia stared at my stomach. "Are you pregnant?"

"I think this conversation is over." Frade propped me up against the couch. "You can get out of here now."

"Frade, how could you do this to me?" Mia sobbed. "Have you forgotten we ever loved?"

"Save your tears," Frade said impatiently. "I won't believe a word you say. Get out, now!"

"Also, you have to make it clear that what you're doing has nothing to do with me," I said to Mia, "Don't ever mention my relationship with you in public again. I've already warned you that Mickle won't acknowledge our relationship. What he wants is for us to disappear from the world."

"It's none of your business." Mia held back her cheap tears and her face returned to normal.

"Goodbye, Eva!"

Mia turned and left as her figure disappeared into the doorway. I whispered to Frade.

"I think your advice was right. We should get out of here as soon as possible."

"Have you decided?" Frade asked.

"Yes, for my baby," I said. "Mia messed up my plans, and now I can't figure out what Mickle is going to do to us. Leaving is the only way."

"I'll contact the Italians now." Frade put his hand on my belly. "I'll arrange for you and the baby to leave first."

"Aren't you going to come with us?" I looked at him in surprise. "The baby and I need you."

"I can't leave yet." Frade frowned. "Now that the family business is in the country, it's going to take some time to find an agent. And if I leave too, it'll get Mickle's attention. I need to stay."

"No, Frade," he said before I could finish.

"This time it's up to me," Frade said. "I'll fly you to Italy on a private jet tonight. You go with Liv. We'll be met in Italy."

This time, I didn't reject his decision. When night fell, the servants packed my bags. When I told Liv that I was leaving the United States, she offered to go to Italy with me. She said that she would take care of me in Italy until my baby was born.

A black Mercedes drove us off the estate. The car was on its way to the airport. I was surprised that the group of reporters blocking the door had all disappeared when we left.

Perhaps the reporters moved on, choosing to track down another, more popular woman, Mia. It would have been better for me to leave. No one knew I was leaving. Mickle wouldn't know.

As we drove to the airport, I saw a Gulfstream private jet stop in front of me. The driver opened the door for us, and Liv got out of the car and held my arm.

Just as I was about to step up the flight stairs, I heard a car horn behind me. Soon, several cars came up to us and several men in suits got out of the cars.

Frade approached them, and as I watched him walk, his hand crept toward his lower back.

He wanted to draw his gun.

"No, Frade!" I ran to the group.

"Eva, stand back." Frade stood in front of me. "Let me handle this!"

"Are you Eva Green?" One of the men held up his badge. "I'm Mr Mickle Blanton's consultant. My name is Ian."

"Go away, we won't answer any of your questions," Frade said rudely. "Don't delay our trip!"

"I'm sorry, Mr Logan," the man, Ian, said. "This plane won't take off tonight."

"You have no right to stop the plane from taking off," said Frade, pushing Ian. "Get out of here!"

"Or you can look back." Ian glanced behind us.

Then we saw the captain running down from the plane. He went up to Frade and whispered, "I'm sorry, Mr Logan, but we have a restricted flight route."

Ian smirked. "You'll have to come with me!"

"We're not going anywhere." Frade glared at him.

"Eva, Miss," Ian said. "Mr Mickle Blanton wants to see you."

Mickle, what the hell is he doing?