Page 82 of Bittersweet Revenge

“Oh...” She paled. I feared she was going to pass out.

I pulled her to the loveseat and sat as close as I could beside her.

“Esmeralda, it’s okay. I’ll keep you safe.” I looked at Archibald sitting across from me and added, “We’llkeep you safe.”

“Do you think that’s what happened to mom?”she asked.

Archibald sighed. “Maybe. I…” He stopped talking when Benjamin entered with the cart containing coffee and tea.

“Thank you, Benjamin. You may go now.” I looked at the cart before standing up. “I think this discussion calls for something stronger.” I walked to the well-stocked bar. It was one of the perks of living with high-functioning alcoholics. “Name your poison.”

Archibald rubbed his hand over his face. “Bourbon, double, neat.”

Ah, it would be that kind of conversation. I turned to Esmeralda. I wasn’t keen on her drinking alcohol, so I was relieved when she shook her head.

“No thanks. I’ll stick to tea.”

I copied Archibald’s choice before taking my seat beside Esmeralda again. “So?”

Archibald took a long sip. “So, yeah, I went to the station and asked for the car to be looked at as a priority. After less than thirty minutes, the expert told me the brakes had been tampered with.”

“Couldn’t it have been just a fault?” Esmeralda tried, much paler than usual. I couldn’t blame her. The thought of having someone out there wanting to end her life was terrifying for all of us.

Archibald shook his head, finally showing the extent of his weariness and worry. I felt sorry for him. “No, I asked the same question. The man showed me a photo. The cut was too even, but it seemed to be amateurishly done.”

“Amateur?” I asked. That didn’t sound like something belonging to our lives. Nothing was done by amateurs.

“Why does it matter?” Esmeralda asked, still paler than a ghost.

I squeezed her knee. “I’m not sure yet, but it just…”

“Doesn’t fit?” Archibald offered.

I rubbed my jaw. “Yeah…”.

Archibald shrugged. “Unless it was not planned – something done in the spur of the moment.”

“Do you think they know about David Phang?” Esmeralda asked.

Archibald cocked his head to the side, twisting his mouth with uncertainty. “I doubt it, but it might just be a sloppy professional job too.”

“Who? Oh God,” Esmeralda rested her hand on her mouth as if she’d finally caught-on to something. “Who was driving?”

I knew the answer before Archibald uttered a word. She looked enough like Esmeralda for me to believe that she had died. She had also been the reason why I’d picked her as my preferred sextoy for my sexual needs after meeting Esmeralda– so I could pretend she had been the woman sitting before me.

“Aleksandra Dermot.”

“It’s horrible. If she hadn’t–”

“Don’t.” I took Esme’s hand, intertwining our fingers together. “Don’t do this. Don’t feel guilty. She did what she did because it was the person she was. I can’t feel sad. The only thing I can feel is relief because you’re sitting beside me. I know it sounds cold and uncaring, but I couldn’t care less about who was in that car as long as it wasn’t you.”

“She was a daughter, Caleb. A sister. What she did to me was petty, but it was harmless and –”

“Her parents wanted to sue you for the car tonight, Esme,” Archibald interrupted.

She looked at him, blinking back the tears, guilt morphing into confusion. “What?”

“When those people should have been at home mourning the loss of their daughter, they were at the police station with their lawyers wanting to know who the car belonged to. When they heard the name Forbes, I swear their faces morphed and dollar signs appeared in their eyes.”

---