The Counterfeit Lover (War of Sins Book 3)
The Counterfeit Lover: Chapter 32

It’s well after dawn that I enter the city again. Sneaking a glance at my phone, I note that the battery is dead.

Damn it!

Raf will no doubt text me when he wakes up, and he might worry if I don’t answer right away. At the same time, it’s still very early and he will likely expect me to be sleeping. After all, we’re only supposed to meet later in the afternoon when he gets officially discharged.

My thoughts are in disarray as I consider my next steps. If I end up texting Raf, he might want to video call, and that is out of the question at the moment. No matter how much I hate not answering to him, it’s better if he believes I’m sleeping in late.

My mind made up, I go to the Queens address on file, stopping a few blocks away from the apartment complex and parking my car. I need to scout the location first and ascertain that Alonso was truthful when he gave me the information.

Walking around the complex, I note that there are a few guards stationed around. And a closer look lets me know they are all carrying weapons.

Hmm…

Making myself slightly less presentable, I head to the two guys guarding the entrance.

‘Excuse me, could you help me? I think I’m lost,’ I add in a timid voice, my chin pointing downwards as I peer at them through my lashes.

As intended, the effect is immediate. One of them is flustered while the other a bit more daring as he looks me up and down in a lascivious way, his eyes sparkling with a bad, bad idea.

But I can imagine what they see. A tiny, helpless woman who’s lost her way—one who’s wearing high heels at dawn when that could only mean one thing.

‘Stay here, I’ll help the lady,’ the second guy states, giving the other a look that speaks more than a thousand words.

He places his hand on my arm and he more or less drags me towards the darkened alleyway right around the corner, pinning me to the wall next to the trashcan.

I roll my eyes at the clichéd situation.

‘You’re lost or you…’

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as I bring my knee to his crotch—hard enough to have him doubling over in pain. Planting my heel on his chest, I lean down and cover his mouth so he won’t scream in pain. At the same time, I sneak my hand down his back, removing his gun before pointing it back at him.

‘You…’

‘I think it’s better if you don’t finish the sentence,’ I tell him with a fake smile. ‘If you want to get out of here alive,’ I trail off, noting his smile as he looks at the gun, no doubt thinking the sound would attract everyone’s attention.

Shaking my head at him, I remove a silencer from the back of my pants, rolling it around the barrel of the gun just as he visibly blanches.

‘I just need some information.’

‘Wh-what?’ He blinks.

‘Ortega. I know he’s inside,’ I bluff. ‘I need his schedule.’

‘How would I know his schedule?’ he raises his voice just as I point the gun to his face.

‘I’m only taking valid answers. Anything else and there will be a hole in your brain in… Three. Two…’

He must realize I’m serious because he starts stammering.

‘He… He always has some girls over today. Paid girls.’

‘Do tell more.’

He blinks, his body shaking.

‘Blondes,’ he whispers. ‘He likes to play with blondes on Wednesdays.’

‘Is that so?’ I muse, narrowing my eyes at him. ‘How do I know you’re not lying?’

‘I’m not, I swear. The agency he uses sends a few girls every day. Each day a different type. Today it’s blondes,’ he continues, telling me that Ortega rents the girls for an entire day.

Odd, but to each their own. If he displayed the same type of effort and inclination to getting his business off the ground, maybe he wouldn’t need Michele’s charity for it.

Luckily for me, it seems the girls always start their day early.

‘Thank you for your cooperation,’ I add sweetly.

But before I release him, I do something a little more controversial. After all, I’m not about to let him go so he could ruin my plans.

Still holding one foot on his chest, I tuck the gun in my pants, moment in which big guys over here tries to move. I give him a quick kick, keeping him down as I snap the heel from my other shoe, bringing the laser to his face.

He frowns, clearly not realizing what I’m holding in my hand, or what I’m trying to do.

‘Say aaaaah,” I intone as I pry his mouth open, tugging on his tongue at the same time as I touch the little button of the laser, pointing it at the base of his tongue.

His cries are muffled as I cut a clean line through his tongue. The laser is so efficient, the bleeding is kept to a minimum, too.

Smiling down at him, I fling the piece of muscle away.

‘See, that wasn’t so hard.’

He’s pale, and though he’s on his knees on the ground, he sways from side to side a few times before he drops, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

I guess that despite the lack of blood, the pain is enough to make someone pass out.

Pleased with myself, I’m about to turn and head to my car so I can go in search of a damn blonde wig—though at this hour I have no clue where I could find one.

Unfortunately, just as I’m about to leave, the flustered guy from before makes an appearance.

‘Shift’s over, loser, save me some,’ he calls out, now seemingly not as flustered as before.

Aware I only have a small window of time, I take out my gun, aiming it at him before he can do the same with his.

He immediately falls to the ground, blood leaking from his forehead.

Yet now I find myself in a conundrum. Maybe cutting the tongue was a bit excessive? Ok, fine, I admit I may have been a bit too curious to see if the laser can get that done, and maybe I got ahead of myself. But now with a second dead body…

I spend about five seconds debating my options.

Releasing a sigh, I move to the second man, gripping his underarms and dragging him next to the other man. It’s not the easiest thing to do, but I’m proud to say I do it without attracting even more attention. The last thing I’d need right now would be a third body.

Placing both guys one next to the other, I put a bullet through the first man’s skull, ensuring he is equally dead as his companion before I use the trash to hide their bodies—well, as best as I can, considering the circumstances.

Knowing time is of essence, I head back to my car, driving off in search of a blonde wig.

I can’t say that expedition is entirely successful, since I’m unable to find any open store. What I do find, however, is a hair product store that also sells wigs. It might not be nice of me, but I manage to get a wig though the store isn’t exactly open yet. I’m not all bad, though, and I leave a couple hundred dollar bills as my apology.

With that out of the way, I take a few minutes to get ready, pinning the wig in place and ensuring my outfit is acceptable considering the role I’m supposed to embody, putting on a short skirt and a cropped top. All topped off with the killer heels, since it’s unlikely I’ll be able to sneak any weapons inside otherwise. Then it’s just a matter of waiting and hoping I haven’t been lied to.

The odds seem to be in my favor, though, when not even half an hour later a van pulls up by the side of the road. Three blonde girls and a man jump out of it, and it seems he’s schooling them on something.

Making my way towards them, I invent an excuse that the patron wanted four girls suddenly, and I was sent from the agency last minute.

The man—the manager, I assume—looks me up and down, pursing his lip.

‘I wasn’t told,’ he simply states.

‘Sorry, sir,’ I say in a meek voice. ‘I do as I’m told.’

He huffs, pulling out his cellphone and dialing a number.

Panic creeps inside of me at the thought that my cover will be blown, but it doesn’t take long before he gives me a nod.

‘You’re good to go,’ he says. ‘Boss was amazed you got here so fast,’ he mentions, and I blink, taken aback by my exceedingly good fortune.

Getting in line with the other girls, we’re given the rules again and I do my best not to grimace when I hear what we’re supposed to do.

Apparently, nothing is out of bounds for Ortega. And Wednesdays are not only reserved for blondes but also for anal.

I keep a straight face thought I can’t help the distaste that assails me. I guess the quicker I get this done, the better.

In the same formation, we’re taken to the main entrance where we are searched for hidden weapons. When that is done, we’re led to the elevator, and the manager clicks on the top floor. Everything is routine for him, and it becomes clear he is the man dealing with Ortega at all times.

The elevator pings when it reaches the top floor, the doors opening to reveal a luxurious playroom. All around, there are devices, toys and all types of items of a sexual nature.

Well, now it makes more sense why Ortega has such particular tastes. The man’s entire space is all about sex.

Following the man, we go deeper into the room until we reach what I assume are the sleeping quarters.

And right there, on the king sized bed, is Ortega. I’d assume he’s in his forties, maybe fifties. Dressed only in a pair of silky bottoms, he has a good physique, indicating that he takes care of his body.

All this sex stuff should burn the calories, after all.

Other than that, the man is rather nondescript aside from his perpetual scowl. Especially as he lays his eyes on us.

‘Here you have today’s crop,’ the manager says, using the word crop as if these women are not even human.

‘You can leave now,’ Ortega waves the manager away, who quickly complies.

We’re left in a line in front of him, and as he swings his legs off the bed to come towards us, his eyes narrow at me.

Does he recognize me? I should hope not. He certainly knows who Noelle DeVille is, especially since I’m married to Raf. But I did my makeup in a different way than I usually do, leaning on the heavy side and masking all my dead giveaways—like my freckles. That and the blonde wig shouldn’t make it too easy for him to recognize me.

He inspects each of us from head to toe and is about to speak when his phone rings.

‘Don’t you know I’m busy,’ he barks out before his tone suddenly evens out. ‘Marchesi, sorry I didn’t recognize the number.’

My ears prick at the name, our speculations from before ringing in my mind.

Damiano Marchesi? Could it be really him that’s in cahoots with Ortega now?

‘I told you I’ll get it done. I have another squad heading out today to get the job done. You just need to meet your part of the deal.’

Another squad? He better not mean he’s sending more people after Raf. And right as that thought arises, I simply see red.

While he’s busy chatting away with Marchesi, I turn to the girls.

‘If you don’t want to die today, go to the bathroom and lock yourselves inside.’

Their eyes widen, but they don’t seem to move.

‘I mean it girls. Don’t make me kill you because I will. Now shoo,’ I wave them in the direction of the bathroom.

I don’t know if they understood the threat, but at least they take their leave, locking themselves in there just as I head back to the elevator and play a little with the electric panel, ensuring no one will be able to use the elevator to come to this floor. That done, I spot the emergency exit and I barricade that to the best of my ability too.

Ortega is still busy on the phone, his voice growing increasingly louder as he seems to have a disagreement with Marchesi.

As I head back to the bedroom, I take a few seconds to assess the windows, noting a ledge extending from the building—which could very well serve as my escape route.

‘No, I need to get this done, do you hear me? You promised, Marchesi,’ Ortega grits out. ‘I won’t repeat myself. I will do my side of the deal and you do yours. No excuses,’ he says right before hanging up and throwing the phone on his bed.

Turning, his eyes go wide as he spots me all alone.

I let my lips curl into a smile.

‘Where the hell are the others?’

‘Gone,’ I shrug as I take a step forward. ‘I’m the only one you’ll be dealing with today.’

His nostrils flare, and taking a step towards me, I can recognize the signs of aggression.

‘Who the hell allowed them to leave?’

‘You were a bit too busy on your phone to see what was happening,’ I say, the same fake smile in place.

‘Stupid bitches,’ he spits right as his hand shoots out, his fingers wrapped in my hair. ‘You’re going to pay for them, too, aren’t you?’ he sneers in a cruel tone.

I flutter my lashes at him, which seems to throw him off—especially as I don’t seem scared.

He tightens his hold, his expression growing more aggressive.

‘On your knees, whore,’ he orders, his other hand going to his pants.

Before he can do anything, though, I wrench my head forward, displacing the wig and causing it to slip off my head.

The hair remains in his hold while I duck.

‘What the fuck…’

In one fluid movement, I’m on the ground, my hand on my heel as I take out the tiny device, my hand resting over the touch-sensitive button.

Ortega, noticing the ruse, is quick to reach for his gun. But just as he does that, I aim the laser, cutting straight through the barrel of his pistol.

His expression is priceless as he stares at me, then at his pistol, then back at me.

‘Who the hell are you?’ He blinks, and the first signs of fear appear on his face.

‘You don’t recognize me?’ I smile sweetly as I take off the mesh holding my hair. Releasing it, I also bring the back of my hands to my face, wiping some of the make-up. ‘Tell me you’re not that dumb.’

‘You’re… You’re…’ he frowns, squinting at me as if I’m familiar but he can’t still quite place me.

‘Good Lord,’ I shake my head. ‘You’re trying to kill my husband and you don’t know who I am?’ I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Yet his stupidity aside, I have a vague impression that Ortega is just the brawn in this whole debacle—a piece of brainless muscle coaxed into this scheme. Not surprising, considering all his attempts on Raf’s life have been more or less uncoordinated and straight up idiotic.

But that also means my mission won’t end with him.

If he’s just a tool to getting to Raf, most likely one to distract us from what’s really happening, then someone else is pulling the strings.

Someone like… Marchesi.

‘You’re…’ he struggles again, and I just shake my head and roll my eyes.

Really… We’ve all been worrying about him? For God’s sake.

That also opens another line of thought. If Ortega has been so elusive that Carlos could not find him, then he must definitely have backing.

‘You don’t have to try that hard,’ I dismiss him. ‘Why don’t you take a seat and we’ll have a nice chat?’ I offer from the magnanimity of my heart considering I’m the one wielding the deadly—but fun—laser.

He eyes it suspiciously before he does as told, taking a seat on the bed.

‘Since maybe you have an idea who I am now, you can tell me what the deal is with wanting Rafaelo dead. And if I were you I’d spare no details,’ I smile as I cross my arms over my chest, still pointing the laser towards him. ‘Oh, and by the way, this thing is touch sensitive so my finger could slip at any moment. I’d be careful if I were you.’

He stares me down for a second before he sighs.

‘I don’t know what you want me to say,’ he shrugs. ‘I’m just doing my end of a contract.’

‘And what contract is that?’

‘Michele Guerra promised an alliance if I made Fenix disappear,’ he has the gall to lie to my face.

I narrow my eyes at him. I refrain to add that he’s been exclusively after Rafaelo and hasn’t even tried to go after the rest of Fenix. Feature in the fact that Michele himself doesn’t seem to want his brother dead and I think I have a little liar on my hands.

‘Then what’s the deal with Marchesi? Where is he figuring out in all of this?’

It’s clear that he wants a seat at the table, but there has to be more. Otherwise he wouldn’t burst in the city like this, guns blazing and ready to wage war—especially considering he is alone and we have the strength of numbers.

Ortega mumbles something under his breath and it’s clear he’s stalling. And as I note his fingers searching under the pillow, I realize what he’s trying to do.

Shaking my head, I focus the laser beam right at his wrist, lightly touching the button and separating it from his arm.

His reaction is delayed as he raises his arm to see it handless, his mouth opening and closing before he erupts in shrilly screams—even worse than a school girl.

There’s minimal bleeding, the laser cauterizing while cutting, which is just as well since a dead man can’t answer questions.

Well, neither a hysterical one.

He gets up, flinging his arm up and down as tears stream down his face, his voice caught in his throat as he can’t even scream his pain.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, grow some balls,’ I roll my eyes as I lift my leg, kicking him in the chest and pushing him down. ‘Listen. I’m on a time constraint here,’ I tell him, pointing at my wrist watch—which, incidentally, reminds him of his wrist-less hand and prompts another round of cries.

Really? This is the guy who’s been trying to kill my Raf? This is the guy everyone was worried about?

I don’t know if I’m happy because he’s clearly incompetent, or sad because…well, we’ve been worrying for absolutely no reason.

‘Answer my questions and I will refrain from cutting more parts of your body. Don’t answer and…’ I pause for dramatic effect just as I point the beam towards his crotch.

‘I’ll answer. I’ll answer,’ he quickly intones, seemingly getting his bearings together.

‘Well?’ I tap my foot against the floor.

‘Damiano married Leticia’s daughter and…’

‘Leticia’s daughter?’ I frown.

‘Leticia Guerra,’ he grits his teeth, clutching at what’s left of his wrist. ‘Benedicto’s youngest sister. And if Damiano has a son by her, he would have a claim to the Guerra name.’

‘So he wants Raf out of the way so he can swoop in the Guerra title?’

Ortega nods, his features tense with pain.

‘And if he does, he’ll let you set your business here, is that so?’

Pursing his lips, he nods again.

Damn, this is a complication we didn’t need. I’m not very familiar with Rafaelo’s extended family, but from what I know, his aunt lives somewhere in Europe, as far away from the mob business as possible. If that’s so, then how could her daughter have gotten involved with Damiano. Unless it was all on purpose and… This is just a tiny snapshot of his motivation.

‘What about those weapons? I find it hard to believe you would have supplied them.’

‘Marchesi,’ he simply states.

‘I see.’

So it all comes down to Marchesi. And going by the display at the restaurant, he’s unlikely to stop any time soon.

And that makes him next on my list.

My darling Blue. He never wanted war. Yet war always comes looking for him.

A commotion starts downstairs, the sound travelling up and startling me from my thoughts. My gaze meets Ortega’s and I don’t know whether it was him that called reinforcements or someone else.

Alas, I can’t dwell on that now. I got my answers. I guess it’s time to put an end to this.

Crouching in front of him, I note with pleasure the way fear enters his eyes.

‘What the hell are you?’ he whispers, his features terror stricken.

‘The last thing you’ll ever see,’ I smile right as I bring the laser to his throat, cutting a straight line.

Blood slowly pours out before it bursts out like a geyser, hitting me in the face and trickling down my body.

But I don’t stop. I continue to use the laser until his entire head is detached from his body. And with a slight poke, it falls to the ground, rolling away and making me chuckle.

The noise outside becomes louder, and since I wasn’t able to put on a bulletproof vest, I don’t want to stick around for the bullet exchange.

Aiming the laser at the window, I cut a big chunk of it—enough so I can squeeze through.

Right at that moment, the door I’d barricaded starts giving way, someone pushing hard against it.

Climbing up the ledge to get through the hole I’d created, I swing one leg inside, ready to push myself through when the noise intensifies, the door finally giving way.

Taking note of my surroundings and how I can maximize my chances of not getting hit, I make to move to the right.

Yet as the door bursts open and people stream inside the room, nothing happens.

No gunshots.

No bullets flying.

Just one voice calling my name.

‘Noelle!’

I freeze. Actually, to say I freeze is an understatement. I turn to stone on the spot, hoping the earth would open up and swallow me now.

‘Noelle!’ He shouts again, and I slowly turn my head.

In time for our eyes to connect.

‘Raf?’ I whisper, the question inane as reality comes crashing down.

In two steps he’s by the window, his big hands splayed against my ribcage as he pulls me back. I don’t protest. I don’t do anything. I simply let him maneuver me around.

Carlos is in the back, a grim expression on his face as he takes in Ortega’s body.

‘Carlos, can you wait outside?’ Raf’s voice resounds, harsh and unyielding.

Before he can reply, though, the bathroom door bursts open and the girls run out screaming and pleading not to be killed.

A look passes between the two men and Carlos nods at Raf, ushering the girls outside.

I still don’t dare move. Not as my entire mind blanks out on me until there’s only one thing that echoes in my head.

It’s not real.

It can’t be real.

Raf isn’t here.

He didn’t see me.

He didn’t…

‘Noelle,’ he says my name, his tone cold. He places me on the ground, taking a step back from me and taking his body heat with him.

Bereft. I feel so, so bereft.

I raise my eyes to look at him, to search his gaze. Yet I can’t see anything.

I’ve always been able to read him—always. Yet now… I don’t know what he’s thinking, or feeling.

‘Raf… I…’

‘What are you doing here, Noelle?’ he asks in a low voice. ‘Why are you dressed like that? Why…’

‘Nothing happened,’ I quip. ‘Nothing happened. You know I’d never cheat on you,’ I give him a tremulous smile.

‘But you’d lie. Isn’t that right?’

‘I didn’t…’ I stammer.

‘Stop,’ he shakes his head. ‘Just…stop.’

Closing his eyes, he brings his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

‘How long?’

‘What do you mean?’ I ask softly.

‘How long have you remembered?’

‘A while,’ I whisper, averting my eyes.

‘And you never thought to tell me? Not even when I was talking to you about the past?’ He shakes his head, disgust painting his features.

‘Raf, I…’

‘Why?’ he asks sharply. ‘Why did you hide it? Because of this?’ He points to Ortega’s dead body.

I shake my head, barely fighting the urge to run away—to hide away.

‘Or was it because of something else? Something you didn’t want me to find out…’ he trails off.

I whip my head up, blinking as I take him in—searching for any clue of what he might mean.

‘No, I swear, I just wanted to keep you safe,’ I say, taking a step forward as I grab his hands, needing the comfort of his touch. ‘He was a threat to your life and I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t…’

‘Keep me safe,’ he repeats dryly. ‘Hear that,’ he laughs.

‘Raf, I did it all for you,’ I whisper, squeezing his hands before bringing them to my face, urging him to touch me and put me out of my misery. ‘Everything I’ve ever done has been for you,’ I continue, imbuing my words with all the emotion I can muster so he can see—so he can realize that he’s been my one driving force for the better part of a decade. ‘I’ve loved you for so long…’

‘Really?’ he cuts me off, his eyes a steely blue that cuts me in half. ‘Did you rape me for me, too?’ he suddenly asks and I blanch.

Letting go of his hands, I take a step back.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about,’ he spits out. His hand shoots out to grab my arm and he pulls me closer—close enough the I can see the deep scorn marring his features.

‘My God, how can you be such a hypocrite? I told you about that flashback. I told you I thought a woman had raped me. How the fuck could you look at me straight in the eye and tell me it was all a nightmare, that it wasn’t real? How could you look at me and pretend everything was ok when all along it was you,’ he grits out, his voice breaking just as he’s breaking my heart.

‘It wasn’t like that. Let me explain, please,’ I beg.

‘Explain what? Rape?’

‘I know it may seem like that but…’

‘But what?’ He raises his brows. ‘You didn’t mount me when I was unconscious? You didn’t fuck yourself on me when I was so full of drugs I could barely move? When I was a prisoner in my fucking body?’

‘Yes, but…’ I stumble over my words, panic suffusing my entire being.

This can’t be real.

My heart is pounding, my breathing out of control as a dense fog takes over my mind.

This can’t be real.

His fingers dig in my arm as he shakes me.

‘Yes, but what Noelle?’ he snarls at me, holding me so close I can barely think.

All I can see is his rabid expression and the way disappointment ravages his features, his eyes dead as he sets them on me.

Dead.

There’s nothing there. No love, no gentleness. Nothing.

And it’s just what I deserve. Yet it should have never happened like this.

But because it did happen, now, I know there is only one culprit at play. Only one person who could have told him the truth.

Michele.

‘How many times? How many times did you take advantage of me when I was at my lowest?’ he continues with his barrage of question, his hold bruising.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ I shake my head. ‘Please let me explain, Raf. Hear me out, please,’ I plead with him, but he’s not listening—he’s beyond listening.

‘It wasn’t enough that you raped me, though, was it? You used me for something else. For something…’ he chokes on the words, his façade breaking to show me all the hurt within.

Hurt I caused.

God, but I feel his pain as my own and it’s fucking suffocating me.

Tears gather at the corners of my eyes as I bring a hand up, touching his cheek.

‘Please, Raf. Let’s calm down and I’ll tell you everything, ok?’ I suggest softly.

There’s a pause as he looks me in the eye—really looks me in the eye.

But what I see there ends me—it fucking obliterates me.

‘More lies, Noelle? Is that what you’re going to tell me?’ He slaps my hand aside.

‘No. I promise I’ll give you the truth and only the truth. Just please…’

‘Mali,’ he simply states, that one word making me reel.

I’m physically thrust backwards, the enormity of that one word messing with my mind, my soul—everything that I am.

‘You had my child. My child,’ he shouts, causing me to shrink back.

I’ve never seen him so angry, never heard him raise his voice at me before. Never…

‘How the hell could you live with me, sleep with me, eat at the same fucking table as me and hide something that monumental from me? What kind of monster are you?’

Tears are coursing down my cheeks, unbidden.

I can barely keep myself upright as his words hit me worse than a bullet—worse than the beam of the laser. They cut a hole in my heart, savagely tearing at me.

Yet it’s all I deserve isn’t it?

Deep down, didn’t I know he would react like this if he knew? Deep, deep down, didn’t I know he would shun me?

It’s why I never planned on telling him. I would have taken those secrets to my grave if possible—I was well on my way to doing so.

Until now.

Reality hits me like a thousand thunder bolts, all aimed at me.

He knows.

I back away and he advances, his expression growing more hateful by the second. And it’s all directed towards me—and towards what I’ve done to him.

What I stole from him.

Because he’s right, isn’t he?

I did do everything he’s accusing me of. And I did much, much worse.

‘Mali,’ he utters the name again, his hand raised. My eyes instinctively close.

In another life, I would have cowered. Or maybe, I would have struck back.

But I deserve nothing less.

If he wants to kill me, I’ll let him. I’ve already prepared for it.

I open my eyes, letting him see I am at his mercy—ready for anything he decides for me.

‘You named him Mali. Like the stone I gave you,’ he grits out, but instead of hitting me, his hand shoots out to wrench the necklace from me, snapping the string in the process.

‘Raf,’ a heartrending sob escapes me.

Here it is. The moment of the truth.

The moment of damnation.

‘What did you do, Noelle? Tell me the truth. I want to hear the truth from your own poisonous lips,’ he demands, his voice filled with despair. He sets his cold eyes on me, letting me bear the entire weight of his disappointment and disdain. And I feel it. God, but I feel it in my bones, seeping into my very essence.

I stumble back, my mouth opening and closing as I don’t know how to answer him. How does one even answer a question like that?

But he’s not deterred. Taking a step towards me, he grabs my chin between his fingers, bringing me closer to his face. His nostrils flare, his features tense and angry. But it’s the sight of his eyes that has my heart freeze in my chest. The way he’s looking at me as he would a stranger.

That cuts me to my core.

‘What did you do?’ he repeats, the question more pronounced than before as his fingers dig painfully in my flesh.

‘I killed him,’ I whisper, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. ‘I killed our son,’ I confess, but instead of freeing me, those words damn me for all eternity.

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