Chapter 21
One of the men raised a brow. “You serious? That whole thing was fake? I thought her mom. nearly died from the explosion.”
The doctor leaned back and smirked like a fucking clown. “Please. I bandaged them with gauze dipped in ketchup and burned gel. We rehearsed the whole thing like a damn soap opera.”
My jaw locked.
One of those clowns leaned closer to the doctor and snorted. “What about the pregnancy? That’s real at least, right?”
The bastard–this walking corpse–laughed louder, his voice scraping my nerves raw.
“Oh hell no. She’s been faking those too. Peeing on old positive tests. I warned her, the body can’t fake miscarriages forever. And last time, she cried in my buddy’s bathroom when we gave her the real test result. She’s permanently barren. Can’t even produce a goddamn egg. Whole
oven’s dead.”
He laughed. They all did. Like it was a fucking comedy.
The second man slapped the table and grinned. “Damn. The deadly Mr. Salvacion was being played by his mistress. Poor wife. I heard the wife’s kid died in that bombing too, yeah?”
The doctor nodded. “I heard the bomb was supposed to be fake. But Ms. Jenner paid the tech guy, yeah, the tech guy was my cousin to switch the detonation. It went real. Killed the boy. I wasn’t in that case but my guy was. Said the mother was holding the dead kid when they found
her.”
The third guy whistled low. “That’s fucked. That boy died ‘cause the bastard chose his mistress over his twin. Over his blood.”
And something in me snapped.
But I didn’t yell. I didn’t throw my glass. I stood up and walked over like I was going to join their table. I placed my pistol on the table gently, right in the middle, and looked at all three of them.
“Finish your drinks,” I said, my voice low and steady. “Then I want all three of you kneeling in the alley behind this building. Now.”
They froze. Faces drained. One of them stuttered something. The doctor looked like he pissed himself. I didn’t blink.
“I said now.”
And they moved. They fucking scrambled like rats chased by fire. Out the back door. I followed slowly. Calm. I unbuckled my sleeves. Rolled them up. Cracked my knuckles. And when I stepped into that alley, I didn’t even wait.
I grabbed the doctor first. Slammed him against the dumpster. My hand wrapped around his throat and the other shoved my pistol against his jaw.
“You tell me everything. Every fucking detail. Every fucking lie. Every fucking plan she made behind my back. Or I will break your legs, burn your tongue, and feed you to the pigs before dawn.”
He cried. He begged. He pissed himself again. Then he spilled it all. Margot paid him off every
63.5%
2:57 pm pppp.
ime she needed to look weak.
She paid actors. Doctors. Nurse.
she used his clinic to stage miscarriages she never had.
he paid his tech guy to replace the fake bomb with a real one.
verything. I recorded it. All of it. Every word. Every sob. Every coward whimpered.
0
Then I pistol–whipped him across the face and let him crawl out on his stomach like the fucking
vorm he was.
drove recklessly that night. I drove shaking and punching the wheel until my knuckles bled. idn’t care about traffic or cameras or anything else. I just needed to see him. My boy. M ucking son. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t get to tell him the truth. I didn’t get to hold hin fter I found out I was his father.
The rain started when I reached the cemetery. Sky wide open like it was mourning what lestroyed.
had five men behind me, none of them spoke. Luca wasn’t there. He was still out hunting Margot. That was fine. This was something I had to do alone.
carried Eli’s favorite toy. The one Geneva said he used to sleep with. The one he called “Papa
ox.”
also brought a white flower. Geneva once said he liked the scent of it because it smelled like
er hair after a bath.
But when I got to the grave, I stopped cold.
Because they were digging it up.
My feet refused to move. My heart crawled into my throat.
Geneva stood there. Black dress. Black gloves. Holding a black umbrella. Her Montenegro Juards flanked her like statues. And she was calm. Cold. A ghost with fire in her veins.
She turned when she heard me.
You’re late,” she said. “I’m bringing him home.”
Home.
almost dropped the toy. I took a step forward. “Wait. What the hell are you doing?”
Michael moved in front of her before I could get close. That bastard didn’t even blink, just stood there like a shield. I didn’t fight him. I was too fucked up to even try.
Geneva looked me in the eye and said, “You don’t get to mourn the son you buried twice. This soil is yours. But he’s mine.”
And I collapsed. Right there. In the mud. In the rain. On my knees.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t talk.
All I could do was reach out with the toy in my hand and whisper, “Please. Just a minute. Let me see him. One minute. I just want to say sorry. I just want to say goodbye.”
pm
Geneva didn’t flinch.
“You had a lifetime to be his father,” she said. “You chose Margot instead.”
Her voice cut deeper than any blade. And I broke.
I fucking broke. I cried in front of everyone. I didn’t care. I begged in front of the guards. I didn‘ care. My body folded over. My fists hit the ground. I wanted to rip my chest open and scream until everything inside me died.
Michael touched her arm, told her they should go. She nodded but never looked back.
“This is the last time you ever get to be near him,” she said. “And I won’t let your guilt rot hi memory.”
Then she walked past me like I was nothing but dirt under her heel.
The rain poured.
The sky screamed.
And I stayed kneeling by a grave that no longer belonged to me. Because I lost everything. And deserved it.
