“Just open it!” She dropped the envelope on the desk in front of him. When he didn’t move, she tilted her head challengingly. “Unless you’re afraid.”
His forehead furrowed as he stared down at the envelope. He picked it up.
Then, without reading, he abruptly crumpled it into a ball. “It is nothing.”
“You didn’t even open it!”
“I am wealthy. I am known.” He rose to his feet. “There are always crackpots who want to cause trouble, who scheme to get money.”
“But he didn’t ask for money. You heard him. He said he left you in a basket as a baby. Who even knows about that?”
His expression was hard as granite. “I’ve heard enough.” He went grimly toward the fireplace.
“Wait,” Hana said, alarmed, “you’re not going to—?”
She gasped as Antonio tossed the crumpled ball into the fire.
“How could you?” she whispered, staring at the envelope, as the spidery handwriting burned. “You don’t even want to know the reason your parents abandoned you?”
“I don’t give a damn.”
“I would give anything to have my parents or grandmother back. To have family.” Her voice became shrill. “Your parents might be alive and you don’t want to know? You won’t even give them a chance to explain?”
“No.” His voice was cold.
“Why?”
“If my parents showed up begging on their knees, I still wouldn’t speak to them. They made their choice. The doctor, if that’s really what he was, made his choice, as well.” He lifted his chin. “Let them all live with it.”
“But—”
“Never speak to me of this again.” Going back to his desk, Antonio opened a briefcase and held out a stack of papers.
“What’s this?”
“The postnuptial agreement,” he said coolly. “Read and sign it before I leave for New York tomorrow. Tonight, if possible.” Antonio gave a cold smile, his black eyes icy as a January night. “I’m going to get ready for the party.”
And he left.
Holding the post-nup in her numb hands, Hana stared at the open doorway, in shock over what she’d learned in the last hour.
Her husband had betrayed her. She thought he’d changed, but he’d never had any intention of sharing either his company or his life with her. And she knew, if she wasn’t at the office, they’d lead separate lives. He routinely worked sixteen-hour days. How could he possibly be a real father? A real husband?
He hadn’t changed. He still wouldn’t let anyone have the slightest control over his life, or his heart.
Perhaps his heart had been broken by his parents’ desertion, the day he was born. But Antonio wasn’t even interested in trying to heal or learning to trust again. He preferred to continue living as he was—with a cold heart, and an iron grip on his company and fortune. Their only real connection was when he made love to her so passionately at night. But how long could Hana continue to share her body with him, after he’d betrayed his promise to her that they would be equal partners and share their lives?
If she stayed with him, she would be his possession. His servant, almost. Servicing him in bed, running his home, raising his child.
If she stayed?
She looked around the house she’d dreamed could be her home, then down at the postnuptial agreement in her hands. In case of a split, he’d said.
There was only one play she had left. One last chance to see if she could convince him to change, to heal his heart. What did she have to lose now by taking the risk? Hana crushed the papers to her chest.
Nothing. Nothing at all.
CHAPTER TEN