ILIANA'S POV
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I've been baking different flavored cakes the entire morning when Drystan finally comes home after one pm. "You have to come taste this!" I yell from the kitchen as I pipe the small red velvet cake. My stomach churns as the penthouse fills with silence, and then the clicking of heels instead of Italian leather shoes. My throat becomes dry, every nerve setting alight as I stare at the kitchen entrance with hatred, feeling how my patience comes undone with each passing second.
I shouldn't hate, but may God have mercy on me, because I do. I hate her with each cell in my body, every heartbeat screams her name in anger, and my mind has invented a box just for her and all her shenanigans.
"Iliana," His mother appears in the door, and I hate that I was right. "Leave." I turn
