Page 95 of Bought By Santa

Roaring in anger more than pain, I grab hold of his arm, twisting it until I hear the satisfying crack of bone, then slam him to the ground. He doesn’t get up.

“Nick… oh my God! Are you okay?” Carolina wraps her delicate fingers around the cut.

I already know it’s shallow. “I’m fine,” I promise. As I glance at her, she nods. “Just a scratch.”

We push forward, the opposition thinning as we cut through Dad’s men. Finally, we reach the basement door, reinforced but not enough to stop us. I kick it open, the wood splintering under the force, and we descend into the darkness.

The basement is colder, the air damp and stale. Shadows cling to the walls, but there’s no mistaking the figure at the far end. Dad. He’s standing with his back to us, hands clasped behind him, as if he’s been waiting, expecting this confrontation.

The room is silent, the chaos above fading into a distant hum. I can feel the tension rolling off my men, their eyes locked on him, waiting for my signal.

“Dad,” I say, my voice echoing in the dim space.

He turns slowly, a cruel smile on his lips, as if this is all some twisted game. “Nicklas,” he replies, his tone almost mocking. “I knew you’d come, son.”

The sight of him, the man who’s caused so much pain, ignites a fire in me, hotter than before. This is it. The final confrontation.Carolina steps closer, her hand brushing against mine, a silent reminder that we’re in this together.

Dad glances at her, his smile widening. “Ah, the lovely Carolina. I see you’ve dragged her into this too. How predictable.”

The Breeder

Caspian’s eyes land on me, and the way his lips curl into a sneer makes my skin crawl. His voice drips with disdain as he says my name, as if even acknowledging me is beneath him. I can’t help it—I hiss in disgust, the sound escaping before I can stop it.

My hatred for this man, for everything he’s done, burns hot inside me, almost choking me with its intensity. “Why?” I demand, my voice sharp, cutting through the thick air of the basement. “Why did you have Willow killed?”

Even though the guy back at the penthouse swore that my sister’s death was an accident, I need to hear it from Caspian.

He tilts his head slightly, as if pondering how to best twist the proverbial knife. “Willow?” he repeats, mockingly. “Oh, that was an unfortunate mistake. The hit wasn’t meant for your dear sister, Carolina. It was meant for you.”

The words hit me like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath from my lungs. I stagger back, my hand instinctively clutchingat my heart as if I can physically hold it together. My mind reels, struggling to process what he’s saying.

Will… she died because of me. Because someone thought she was me. The room spins, and I feel like I’m falling, spiraling down into a pit of despair.

Caspian watches me, and I see a flicker of something dark and cruel in his eyes—a twisted satisfaction in my pain. “You were wearing that ridiculous hat, hiding your hair,” he continues, his tone cold and devoid of any remorse. “My men were confused. They thought she was you. Fools, the lot of them.”

His words are like shards of glass, slicing through me, leaving me raw and bleeding. Will’s face flashes in my mind, her smile, her laughter—memories that are now tainted with the knowledge that she died because of me.

My sister, who was everything good and pure in my life, taken away because I didn’t want to wash my hair. The guilt is overwhelming, a suffocating weight that crushes me from the inside out. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but drown in this sea of sorrow and guilt.

“But really, Nicklas, this is all your fault.” Caspian’s voice drags me back to the present, and I force myself to focus on the man before me—the man responsible for all this pain. “You’ve been neglecting your duties. You’ve become pussy-whipped and weak.” He spits out the last words like a curse.

My head snaps in Nicklas’ direction, but I shouldn’t have worried. His face is showing less emotion than a stone. I guess his dad’s words aren’t hitting the way they were intended.

“At first, I thought it was your brother’s influence. So naturally, I tried to have him taken out. But like the damn pest he is, he proved harder to kill than I’d anticipated.”

“What the fuck?” Nick roars.

Caspian nods. “First I had to find someone who could be the scapegoat for the theft. But when you insisted on going withJack, I had to call off my best men. I couldn’t risk losing my only worthy heir.” He lets out a scathing laugh. “If I’d known just how unworthy you really were, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

I look at Nick, and the expression on his face tells me he knows exactly what Caspian is talking about. “You betrayed Jack and Sergei,” Nick says, his tone cold.

“Indeed,” Caspian replies easily. “Well, betrayal is such a distasteful word. I did what I had to.”

“Why?” I ask when Nick looks like he’s frozen, unable to ask more questions. “Why would you want Jack dead?”

Caspian shrugs like it’s no big deal. “He’s a waste of space, not worthy of the family name. When Nicklas went with Jack to catch the thief, I thought my cover would be blown. Thankfully, none of the people I hired sang. I guess that means they weren’t entirely useless.”

The fuck.

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