Page 106 of Once A Villain

He shakes his head, looking pained. “I had no idea.”

“He lied to me,” I choke out, trembling with the raw sting of betrayal. “All these years, and he’s been lying.”

Spencer pulls me into a hug.

“He hates me, Spencer. He’s always hated me,” I sob into his chest, my tears soaking through his shirt.

“That’s not true,” he says, voice steady as he holds me. He presses a kiss to my head. “Whatever happened, whatever the reason, he loves you.”

“How could he keep something so important from me? How could he lie about this?” I whisper, the disbelief tightening my chest. “That villa was all I had left of her, and he took it away.”

“I don’t know. But he must have had a reason.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, brushing away my tears. “I can’t trust him anymore.”

“Rory, come on. You’ve got to give him a chance to explain.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t exactly rushing to explain.”

“Just give him some time. You barged in on an important meeting. He needs time to calm down. It’s going to be okay. Just go home and get some rest.”

Islump into the driver’s seat, resting my forehead on the steering wheel, tears burning at the corners of my eyes.

Alicia’s threat is as clear as it is crushing—hand over the villa or face the Sovereign. It’s not a choice. It’s a death sentence.

Axe’s name flashes through my mind, but I shove it down.

He doesn’t give a damn about me. I’m a whore. A traitor. He can never know.

The Sovereign don’t forgive. They don’t tolerate traitors. If they find out what I’ve done, they’ll gut me without a second thought. They’ve killed Servants for far less.

I have to find a way to save myself, but I have no idea where to begin. I start the car and drive aimlessly, my tears falling freely.

After what feels like hours, I pull into my townhome’s driveway, staring at the house I once took pride in. It’s a painful reminder of how alone I am.

I drag myself inside, lock the door, and head to the guest bedroom. The furniture and pieces of my old life are all still here, untouched, as if I was never dragged away. Digging through the closet, I unearth the box buried under old clothes and forgotten shoes. Carrying it into the kitchen, I set it on the table and wrestle with the lid, my hands shaking.

As I lift it, a rush of memories floods over me, and my heart feels like lead. Inside are the remnants of summers in Italy—my only connection to my childhood. I pull out a framed picture of my mother, her vibrant smile and bright blonde hair glowing in the sunlight.

“Why?” I whisper through the tears. “Why did he lie to me?”

I sift through the keepsakes—journals and small clay figurines. Clutching the journal, my knuckles whiten as I skim the innocent entries from my childhood. Tears blur the pages, and I slam the book down, frustrated.

“Fuck it,” I snarl, throwing the journal across the room. It thuds against the wall, pages fluttering to the floor.

There’s only one person who knows what I am, and I barely know him. Taking out my phone, I delete the missed calls and texts. It’s reckless, but I don’t care. I text the masked man:

Me: Please. I need you.

I hit send and share my location, heart pounding in my chest. I haven’t heard from him since the Hamptons. Why should tonight be any different?

I rake my hands through my hair, trying to steady my trembling body and racing heart. Axe and Griffen will figure out I’m not at the Pavilion—if they don’t already know. What the hell am I doing?

I grab a bottle of wine, pour a hefty glass, and slam it back. The burn is fierce against my raw throat, but it barely touches the ache gnawing at my chest. I can’t give Alicia the villa—it’s the last piece of my mother I have left.

My phone buzzes, jolting me. I freeze, glass halfway to my lips. Slowly, I set it down and reach for the phone. Shit, it’s Axe. Not now. I stare at the screen, hand shaking. He’s calling again. Ignoring it, I let it go to voicemail. Axe will eventually find me, but maybe, just maybe, I’ll get what I need from the masked man first.

I take another long sip, pour another glass, and head to the living room, leaving the phone behind.

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