Page 173 of I See You

Heignoredherattitudeandforcedacalmintohisvoice.“How you been, Sevyn?”

She didn’t answer, didn’t blink, just stared at him like he was a piece of lint she forgot to brush off. Braxton’s chest tightened. The woman in front of him looked like she had moved on—and that realization tasted like bile.

Sevyn reached for her phone. “You have five seconds to say what the fuck you want before I call security.”

Braxton scoffed, the bitterness in his throat finally spilling over. “Oh, that nigga you wit’ got you bold now.”

Her eyes narrowed, and the fire behind them made him regret every word.

“What nigga?” she shot back. “Matter fact, don’t answer that. Because whoever I’m seen with, or fucking, is none of your goddamn business. You lost that right the minute you fucked my best friend— and got her pregnant.” Her words dropped like bricks, sharp and unforgiving. “So like I said... say what you came to say, or get the fuck out. Or I will let security drag your bitter ass out of here.”

Braxton’s jaw clenched. His fists balled at his sides. She wasn’t just glowing—she was gone. And it was too damn late.

Braxton held out the thick folder, his expression smug and unbothered. Sevyn didn’t reach for it. She just stared, her glare cutting clean through him.

“What is this?” she asked flatly, her tone laced with suspicion.

Braxton’s grin widened, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Go on. See for yourself. Your little boyfriend? Yeah, he ain’t who he claims to be. And you fucking him?” He let out a mocking chuckle. “I’m sure your father would have a lot to say once he sees these.”

The mention of her father made her jaw tighten. She didn’t flinch though. Her face remained unreadable as she slowly reached out and took the envelope from his hand.

Her fingers peeled it open. The first few photos made her still— shots of her and Hassan together. At the soccer game. Eating lunch. Her getting into his car just yesterday after work.

"You been stalking me?" Her voice came out low, sharp, venomous. Braxtonshrugged,amused.“Nah. We’re watchinghim.Keep going—you’ll findoutwhy. Iguarantee,onceyou seewhat’sinthere, you’ll never look at that nigga the same again.”

Sevyn said nothing. She turned to the next photo—and her breath caught.

The air in the room shifted.

It was a picture of Hassan’s parents—lifeless, drenched in blood, bullet wounds riddled through their chests and skulls. The image was grainy, but nothing could soften the horror of it. Sevyn’s stomach twisted. Her fingers trembled. She couldn’t blink, couldn’t look away, even as a sting built behind her eyes.

Her heart shattered.

She stared at his mother’s face—beautiful, even in death. And his father... God. Hassan was him all over again. Same deep brown skin. Same piercing blue eyes. But it wasn’t the resemblance that broke her—it was knowing that this was the moment that birthed everything Hassan tried so hard to bury.

The pain. The rage. The coldness.

Shecouldfeelsix-year-oldHassan.Small.Terrified.Alone. Watching his entire world bleed out on the floor.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she flipped to the next photo— and instantly recoiled, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, barely able to breathe.

It was gruesome. Inhuman. The mangled remains of a man—his neck snapped clean, skin torn apart like shredded meat, patches of it burned and blackened like scorched earth. She didn’t need Braxton to explain who did it. The signature of violence was all Hassan. Precision. Pain. A message. A masterpiece of vengeance... born from the mind of a child.

Her chest rose and fell quickly as she shut the folder, bile clawing at the back of her throat. She didn’t know what stunned her more— that a ten-year-old boy could be capable of something so brutal, or that she could still feel so much love for him in the middle of it.

Braxton crossed his arms, watching her with sick satisfaction. “Still think that nigga innocent? Still feel safe wrapped up in his arms at night?”

Sevyn didn’t answer. Her hands were shaking, but her face slowly hardened. She wasn’t about to let Braxton see her crumble.

BecausewhatBraxtondidn’tunderstandwas—Hassanwasn’t a monster. He was a boy who'd been failed. Over and over. Who’d learned to survive by becoming the very thing the world feared most.

And somehow, that broken boy had still found a way to love her. "Yousee,Sevyn,”Braxtonhissed,voicedrippingwithbitterness, “the man you parading around with is a fucking murderer. And he’s gonna rot in hell for what he’s done.”

Sevyn calmly slid the folder back into the envelope, sealing the horror inside like it hadn’t shaken her to the core just moments ago. Her face didn’t flinch. Her eyes didn’t blink. She looked... composed. Unbothered.

Braxton narrowed his eyes, confused by her sudden calm. “That’s it?” he asked, incredulous.

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