Chapter 12 - Secrets in the Rain: Salvatore’s Real Reason for the Rescue
Delaney looked at Daphne, and for the first time in twenty-six years, she didn't see an intimidating queen.
She saw a frightened, shallow girl whose entire world existed only inside a smartphone screen.
“I never stole anything from you, Daphne,” Delaney said, her voice clear, steady, and utterly devoid of fear. “You gave it all away the moment you decided that my pain was worth fifty thousand views.”
“I made you famous!” Daphne hissed, crying bitter tears. “You should be thanking me!”
“You tried to destroy me so you could feel superior,” Delaney replied. “And all you did was prove to the world who you really are. I’m done being your scapegoat, Daphne. I’m done.”
Daphne lunged forward, raising her hand to slap Delaney across the face.
Before her hand could even travel half the distance, Salvatore caught Daphne’s wrist in a vise-like grip.
He didn't squeeze hard enough to break bone, but the absolute, lethal fury radiating from his posture made Daphne freeze in sheer terror.
“Touch her,” Salvatore whispered in a voice so dark it sounded like a death sentence, “and you will lose far more than your social media accounts.”
He shoved Daphne’s hand back with disgust.
“Security,” Salvatore called out calmly.
Two guards appeared instantly from the balcony doors.
“Escort Ms. Waverly off the premises. And make sure the press takes plenty of pictures of her exit.”
Daphne sobbed in humiliation as the guards gripped her arms and led her away down the grand staircase, where dozens of waiting photographers immediately began snapping photos of the disgraced influencer being tossed out of the gala.
When the balcony was quiet once more, Delaney let out a long, shuddering breath.
She walked to the stone balustrade, looking out over the rain-slicked city below.
Salvatore stood beside her.
“Are you alright?” he asked softly.
Delaney turned to him, the moonlight reflecting in her hazel eyes.
“Salvatore... why did you really do all this?”
Salvatore paused, his storm-gray eyes softening in a way no one in the business world had ever seen.
“Three years ago, Delaney, my younger brother died in a hospital across the city,” Salvatore said, his voice quiet and heavy with memory. “I was sitting in the waiting room, broken, surrounded by people who only cared about his inheritance.”
Delaney listened intently.
“You were there,” Salvatore continued. “You were volunteering in the pediatric oncology ward down the hall. I saw you sitting with a little girl who was crying, holding her hand for four hours straight until she fell asleep. You didn't have a camera. You didn't ask for praise. You just gave love to someone who needed it.”
Delaney’s breath caught in her throat.
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“You remembered that?”
“I never forgot your face,” Salvatore murmured, stepping closer and cupping her cheek with his warm, strong hand. “When I saw you in that restaurant last week, being tormented by those cowards, I knew I would never let anyone hurt you again. This wasn't about spite, Delaney. This was about giving you the throne you always deserved.”
