Malachi let out a harsh sigh, his patience clearly worn thin.
“Enough of this nonsense,” he snapped. “Stop creating a scene and go back inside.” His eyes were cold, as they always were. “I’ll get you another cat if you want. Stop making Casey stress herself.”
I clenched my fists, but before I could say anything, Marc ran toward Casey, throwing his arms around her.
“Stand up, Casey,” he said softly, his small hands wiping away her fake tears. Then, his eyes met mine, burning with hatred. “You killed my mother with your wicked heart,” he spat, his voice filled with disgust. “And now you’re trying to hurt Casey, too!”
Marc turned back to Casey, his face softening. “Don’t cry, Casey. Don’t worry. Let Rhea go—I don’t want her in my life. I don’t need her.” He lifted his chin, his next words cutting deeper than any wound. “I want you to stay. You should be my mother. You should marry my father.”
He turned back to me, his eyes filled with nothing but scorn. “You’re a wicked woman with a bad heart. That’s why my father could never love you.” A slow, cruel smile tugged at his lips. “I’m happy you’re leaving.”