Page 95 of The Colour of Revenge
Sperm Doner:I’m stopping by your apartment later.
My pulse spikes. What the fuck? He never visits.
I type out a response, my fingers shaking with a mix of anger and unease.
Nate:Why?
The three dots appear. Then vanish. Then reappear. I grit my teeth, hating the way he plays these little power games.
Sperm Doner:Just be ready.
Ominous.
I stare at the message, my blood boiling. Be ready for what?
Christ.
I throw my phone onto the couch and start pacing my top-floor apartment. The place feels unfamiliar now, cold and lifeless, like it belongs to someone else. I’ve barely spent any time here since Carina pulled me into her life, and now the absence of her presence is suffocating.
I stop at the window, looking out over the city. My jaw tightens as I think of her, as I picture her with that man, laughing, plotting—doing God knows what. My blood ignites.
I have to get ahead of this. She thinks she can shut me out? Fine. I’ll let her think that. Let her think she’s got the upper hand.
But Carina doesn’t realise who she’s playing with.
I know her better than anyone else. I know how she thinks, how she operates. And I’m going to use that against her.
Because no one—no one—shuts me out and gets away with it.
I grab my phone and type out another message to her, my lips curving into a twisted smile. Time to remind her who I am.
Daddy Death:Still thinking about you. Let me know when you’re ready to talk.
I hit send, the words a careful mask for the fury bubbling beneath the surface.
Let her think I’m patient. Let her think I’m waiting for her.
But the truth is, I’m done waiting.
She has no fucking idea what's coming.
At exactly eight, a sharp, deliberate knock echoes through my apartment, shattering the silence.
I yank the door open.
My father stands there.
His presence alone sets my teeth on edge, and I step aside begrudgingly, the tension between us almost suffocating.
“What’s this about?” I snap, skipping any pretence of politeness.
“Me?” He raises a brow, feigning innocence. “You invited me here. Said you wanted to talk about finally stepping up with the company.”
My jaw tightens as anger bubbles just beneath the surface. “No, I didn’t. You messaged me. Said you were coming over.”
His eyes narrow, a flicker of confusion breaking through his usual composure. “You really didn’t invite me here?”
A voice cuts through the room.
