Captive Princess (Sophia) novel Chapter 4

“Two weeks. ”

When I paid, I used the supplementary credit card Don Romano had given me. It had a five-million-dollar limit that I had rarely touched.

Today, I was going to max it out.

Once in the suite, I immediately began my revenge spending.

I contacted Vera Wang’s private couturier and ordered three bespoke wedding gowns, each worth a hundred thousand dollars.

Then I bought ten sets of high jewelry and two limited-edition Rolexes.

In a single day, I spent nearly four million dollars.

Soon enough, Don Romano’s call came through.

“Sophia! Are you out of your mind? You spent four million in one day!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, lounging on the hotel’s plush leather sofa. “I’m being shipped off to Boston. A girl has to make a good impression.”

“You need to spend that much to make an impression?”

“Of course,” I said, sipping my champagne. “I’m marrying the heir to the Sterling family. I can’t look cheap, can I? Besides, the Sterlings are paying five hundred million for this alliance. A few million is pocket change.”

“You…” Don Romano was sputtering with rage.

“Father—oh, wait, I should call you Mr. Romano now,” I laughed. “You already disowned me, so it’s not right for me to spend your money. How about this: as soon as the alliance funds arrive, I’ll pay you back immediately.”

I hung up and continued my shopping spree.

My plan was simple: drain the Romano family’s liquid assets before the alliance money came through. Then, the five hundred million would go directly into my account. If Don Romano wanted it, he’d have to come begging.

Let’s see if he’d still favor that mother and daughter then.

Just as I was about to make my final round of purchases, my phone buzzed.

It was a text from Vincent. “You haven’t been to the compound in three days. Is something wrong?”

I stared at the message, my heart suddenly hammering against my ribs.

But I quickly composed myself. Vincent just hated it when his orders were disobeyed. That’s all this was.

I replied: “Family stuff. It’ll be sorted out in a few days.”

As I worried, a few drunk men staggered toward me.

“Hey, beautiful. All alone?” one of them slurred, reeking of cheap booze.

I stood up warily. “Stay away from me.”

“Don’t be like that,” the man said, reaching for me. “C’mon, have a drink with us.”

I stepped back, but the bench blocked my escape.

Just then, a low, menacing voice cut through the air.

“She’s with me.”

I turned. Vincent was stepping out of the shadows, his face a thunderous mask of fury.

The drunks took one look at his imposing presence and scrambled away.

Vincent strode toward me, his gaze taking in my suitcases, then the bench.

“Homeless, and you still won’t come to me?”