Chapter 20

His voice was quiet, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

Panicked, she signed, *I... I wanted to buy something.*

"Buy what?"

Latisha swallowed hard. *Clothes. To buy you clothes.*

His deep eyes stared straight into hers, and then he let out a short laugh. "Clothes for me?"

Latisha nodded.

“Latisha.” He said her name, a name she hadn't heard him speak in a long time. His fingers gently caressed her cheek, but his voice was ice-cold. "You've gotten good at this, haven't you? Lying without even blinking. Did Nikita teach you that?"

Her pupils contracted, and she frantically shook her head and hands.

Clifford caught her wrist, silencing her signed protests. With his other arm still locked around her waist, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

"Don't be so nervous. I'm just teasing you. So, what kind of clothes were you planning to buy me?"

Her hands were trapped in his grip, leaving her to stare at him helplessly.

He didn't seem to expect an answer anyway. His fingers began to wander, slipping beneath her sweater to find the zipper on her back.

Latisha glanced outside. A light rain was falling, painting the world in shades of gray. It was only just past five.

She tried to pull away, but he held her wrists firmly, leaving her no way to communicate, no way to resist. Her breathing grew ragged, and she shook her head, her eyes pleading with him.

But as he'd said, he seemed content to just tease her, making no further moves. He waited until her eyes filled with tears before finally letting her go.

Latisha scrambled off his lap and haphazardly straightened her clothes. *I'll go make dinner,* she signed.

He stood up as well. "Don't bother. You'll be eating alone tonight."

With that, he buttoned his shirt collar. He took two steps toward the door, then

paused and looked back. "Don't let it happen again."

Latisha bit her lip, avoiding his gaze. A flicker of something crossed his eyes, but he said nothing more and walked out.

Latisha sank onto the sofa, her body feeling weak. She placed a hand over her stomach, knowing exactly what he meant. No more seeing Nikita. No more trying to earn money.

He had promised her a divorce once she paid him back, yet now he was blocking every attempt she made to get the money. He didn't love her, but he refused to let her go.

Maybe Nikita was right-it was pure possessiveness. Like a dog with a bone, he wouldn't easily discard something that was his, even if he didn't want it. And he certainly wouldn't tolerate his possessions trying to escape his control.

If she was to be thrown away, he would be the one to do it. She was not allowed to walk away on her own.

...

Clifford drove through the fine mist of rain until he reached the hospital, heading straight for the administrative wing.

Yesenia had only sprained her ankle. She didn't need to be admitted, but she had insisted. After two days of sitting alone in a hospital room with only one brief visit from Clifford, the

novelty had wornff She was ready

to go home and had called him to pick her up.

As Clifford stood in the elevator, a family of four got in with him. The woman held a baby, her husband's arm wrapped protectively around her, while their five-year-old son stood close by his father's side.

"It's all your fault for naming her Penny," the woman complained, though a sweet smile played on her lips. "Her face gets rounder every day. What if she grows up with a big, round face?"

The man chuckled. “Round is cute. She'll grow up to be beautiful, just like you.” "She'd better take after me. If she looks like you, she'll never get married." "Then my little girl can stay with me forever."

The little boy tugged on his mother's sleeve. "Mommy, I want to hold my sister."

The woman freed a hand to ruffle her son's hair. "You can hold her when we get home. She's not going anywhere. You'll have plenty of chances."

The elevator doors opened, and the family walked out, their happy chatter echoing in the hallway. As they passed, Clifford's gaze lingered on the baby in the woman's arms. He watched them go until the doors, siid shut.

When Latisha first came to the Lambert family, her face had been round, too. But

she had grown into it. It wasn't round anymore.