Page 119 of Cruel Deception
He said nothing. Just stared.
His grip loosened.
I stepped back and turned to leave.
But something made me pause.
I turned around.
He was still standing there, jaw tight, eyes darker than ever—but something fragile lingered in them. Regret. Realization. A sliver of humanity.
“And Elodie offered me a way out,” I said. “I turned her down. Because I’m not a coward.”
He tensed.
“I’m not running. Not yet. Not until I find my mother. Then—when that’s done—I’m ending this marriage. Whether you like it or not.”
I stepped closer. “And when I do... you’ll understand how powerful a woman can be when she’s had enough.”
I walked away, shoulders squared, heart still bleeding—but for the first time, I wasn’t the one trembling.
I left him—and Elodie—behind.
But his silence haunted every step I took.
Chapter 19
CHARLOTTE
Now back in our room, the walls felt tighter than ever.
I sank onto the bed and reached for my phone, dialing Vincent’s number with trembling fingers.
He hadn’t called since that night outside the penthouse—since he got shot and was left groaning on the floor in pain.
I didn’t even know if Vincent was getting better—or if he was even alive. And even though I could trace every ounce of my current hell back to him—he was the one who poisoned my heart, who pushed me to aim that gun at Cassian and pull the trigger, the one who woke the monster inside Cassian—he was still my brother. Still blood. Still family.
The call connected, and a voice answered—but not his.
“Your monstrous husband already had him shot. Why the hell are you calling?”
My stomach dropped.
I knew that voice. “Father?” I whispered.
“I told you not to ever call me that,” came the snarled response.
I swallowed. “Okay... Grayson,” I said, spitting the name like poison. “How is Vincent?”
There was a beat of silence. Then: “Don’t fucking call to check on my son again, bitch.”
A bitter laugh tore from my throat. “See what you’ve become? Calling your daughter a bitch like it’s second nature. Anyway, I’ll call back. Maybe he’ll have the phone next time. I just want to know if he’s okay.”
Something in his voice changed. Softer now. Manipulative. “That monster is torturing you. Let me help you escape.”
I laughed again—this one quieter, darker. “How noble of you. Suddenly playing the protective father? Please.”
“If you need a way out, you know my number,” he said before hanging up.
