Chapter 4 Go away!

"I gave you the money," Justine replied in a bare voice.

Touching her face, which still burned from Andrew's slap, she blinked, fighting off the dizziness.

"You idiot!" Andrew yelled. "Get out of here."

"I need a place to stay tonight." Justine's request echoed through the living room.

"No. You're not staying here." The burly man raised his voice.

Andrew was over forty. The alliance with Kevin Harrison was of utmost importance to expand the business, and Justine was a risk he couldn't have around. She just had to convince her husband to make a deal with his rival, but she wasted time, giving in to the sensuality of that Italian and her work as a fashion designer.

"Please, Mom!" Justine's pleading gaze fell on the woman sitting on the sofa.

"You'd better go, Chérie." Sophia repeated Andrew's order, unshaken.

"How could you do this to me?" Tears burned in Justine's eyes. "First, you abandoned me with my grandmother after my father died, and now you're rejecting me again!"

"I never wanted children, Justine!" Sophia's voice changed, cold as ice. "Your father was the one who insisted. It's a good thing he died." Sophia confessed. "I wasted ten years of my life taking care of an unwanted daughter."

"So that's why you abandoned me with my grandmother?"

With a polite smile, Sophia replied, "Of course! That old woman adored you, and I wanted distance from you."

At eighteen, Justine left rural France to find Sophia, seeking help for her grandmother who had cancer. Instead of help, she entered into an agreement with two con swindlers who destroyed her life.

Andrew ran his hand over his beard, flashing a cruel smile as he listened to the argument.

"That's enough; you can leave." Sophia threw the words into the air as she stood up. "I need to give my husband some attention." As she spoke, Sofia walked gracefully until she stopped next to Andrew.

Justine had never felt so much resentment toward her mother. The only person who should have supported her had just turned her back on her in her moment of greatest despair.

In tears, Justine left the luxurious penthouse. She had no idea how she would take care of a baby on her own.

Within a few hours, she took the diamond ring off her finger, along with her earrings and necklace, and sold everything.

With the money, she rented a hotel room on Via Padova in Milan. The next morning, she tried to open the studio but stopped when she saw two men standing at the entrance.

"Mr. Harrison ordered the studio to be closed," one of her ex-husband's henchmen said, blocking her way.

"But my collection and sketches are in there," Justine argued tearfully.

"All of that belongs to Mr. Harrison," the shorter man warned. "Get out!" he ordered.

No henchman had dared to speak to her in that tone a few months ago. Everyone respected her and did everything she asked. But at that moment, she was being shooed away with contempt.

Returning to her inhospitable hotel room, she tried to advertise her work but found that many customers were badmouthing her clothes on social media.

Days after the separation, the fashion designer, who barely had any space in her schedule, didn't even have a decent place to sell the clothes she created.

On the day of the divorce, Kevin barely paid any attention to her. He just initiated the document and left in a hurry. She ran to catch up with him but stopped when she saw him hugging another woman.

​"Excuse me, can we talk?" Justine's voice sounded weak.

He didn't even look back; he just kept walking.

"Kevin!" Justine stopped in front of him and Beatrice.

"Get out of my way," the bitter man muttered. "I don't want to see your face in this town again."

Looking up, Justine caught a brief glimpse of Beatrice, who was shaking Kevin's hand.

Devastated, Justine returned to the room where she had signed the papers and took what Kevin's lawyer handed her.

"You signed a separation of property agreement. What each of you owned before the union remains the exclusive property of the parties."

"I can't keep the car?" Justine asked, looking at the lawyer.

"Mr. Harrison gave his car to his girlfriend. He also claimed that there was a shortage of seventy thousand euros and demanded that this amount be returned as soon as possible."

"How am I going to pay?" Justine asked, exasperated. "I'm out of work and barely have enough to eat..."

Despair consumed her. The pregnant young woman couldn't hold back her tears.

"Mr. Harrison's employee left some bags with your belongings," the lawyer said. "Follow the secretary to the room where the luggage is."

"What about my baby?" she asked. "I'm pregnant!"

"Have you talked to Mr. Harrison about this?" Suspicious, the lawyer adjusted his glasses as he examined her still-flat stomach.

"I told him, but Kevin thinks the child isn't his," she stammered.

"Ask your lawyer to contact me. See you soon, Miss Delacroix."

Where would he find a pro bono lawyer who would defend his rights? Besides, no one in that town would dare to sue Kevin Harrison Giordano.

She left, carrying one piece of luggage at a time to the taxi.

Soon, Justine sold some designer clothes, shoes, and accessories on an online store. With the money she made, she rented a small apartment downtown.

In a few days, Justine found work as a seamstress in a clothing studio and excelled at everything she did. But one day, she was fired without explanation.

"It was Mr. Harrison Giordano who had me fired, wasn't it?" Justine wanted to know at all costs.

It was obvious. Her ex-husband was cruel and vengeful. He didn't want to kill her, but he would do anything to make Justine pay for her betrayal.

"Please don't complicate my situation. Go away!" The owner of the studio dismissed her without further explanation.

Every day it became more difficult to find a job.

"How am I going to pay off the seventy thousand euro debt?" she thought desperately as she rode the subway back to her room. "Kevin won't stop until I leave Milan."