Page 42 of Forgive Me, Father

The sound of her sobbing immediately clawed at my nerves, nails on glass.I fought the urge to roll my eyes and instead looked straight ahead.I thanked whatever higher force might exist that I’d found a way out of this mess.A clean break.Or at least something thatlookedlike one.

She sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief like she was in some tragic opera.The silence stretched long and heavy until her voice finally broke it.

“I’m so sorry, Alfonso,” she whispered, barely louder than the rustle of fabric.“I didn’t know what came over me, and to be honest, I didn’t think, I didn’t think any of this would happen.If I knew…”

She collapsed into another wave of sobs.

It hit me sideways.

Laughter, dry and sudden, escaped my lips like a knife being drawn.I didn’t try to stop it.

“Alfonso,” my father said sharply, his voice like gravel under pressure.

I snapped my mouth shut, but the smile stayed, bitter and unmoved.

Simi quieted instantly.Just like that.Crocodile tears packed away.Performance paused.

I wasn’t an idiot.She’d been my betrothed for nearly thirty years, I knew her better than her own parents ever did.She was clever, calculating, and manipulative.Qualities that, in the right hands, could be powerful.But Simi?She didn’t wield them, she abused them.

Little manipulative fucking slut.

“I know I got what I deserved,” she said finally, lifting her chin with mock grace.“Good luck with your marriage.”

She said it with thattone, the kind that dressed itself as a blessing but crawled with venom underneath.She knew exactly what it cost me to keep the storm inside from spilling out.She wanted to see it all unravel.To watch me lose control, piece by piece, until I became everything I swore I wouldn’t.

And the worst part?It would probably happen.

SIXTEEN

THE LITTLE RUNAWAY

The next week and a half,I finally found a way to relax.

Sebastian, or Bas as he told me numerous times to call me, dropped off a cellphone for me on the second day, and it didn’t surprise me when Alfonso texted me just a few hours later, wanting to know how my day was going.

Fuck off.

I typed back and sent it.

I’m trying.Please.

I don’t care.Leave me alone.

Yeah, unfortunately, that’s not what our contract states.You need to provide me with an heir.When can we start?

Of course, he would play that card.

Why don’t you just take it?It’s the type of man you are, no?

I didn’t get a reply.I knew I was taunting him.I shouldn’t be doing it, but I loved it.Loved the little victories.

The days that followed blurred into a strange rhythm, me wandering through California, and Bas, never more than a few steps behind.Always watching.Always silent.Like a shadow I didn’t ask for but couldn’t shake.

I called my parents.My father sounded proud, too proud.Said he’d landed a meeting with one of the Pontisello reps.Not Rico, of course.God forbid the king of the criminal elite lower himself to speak toRust Bloodslike us.Wouldn’t surprise me if that’s exactly what they called us behind closed doors.

I checked in with my siblings too.Em was off.Distant in a way that told me she was going through something but didn’t want me anywhere near it.Her answers were clipped, like she was rationing her words.My brother, thankfully, filled the silence.He didn’t bring up Philip, and I was grateful for that small mercy.

The rest of the time, I lost myself in Netflix and waited for Alfonso to come home, if you could even call the hotel our home.His texts had grown fewer by the day, stretching thinner like the tension in my chest.

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