Page 97 of The Colour of Revenge
He doesn't even look at me. He doesn't acknowledge me at all.
“My son’s not involved in this,” he insists, ignoring me completely. “You can let him go.”
I whip my head toward him, disbelief crashing over me like a tidal wave.Not involved? What the hell is he talking about?
“How noble of you, Edward,” Carina scoffs, her bitter laugh slicing through the air. “But you and I both know he’s as much a part of this as you are.”
“He isn’t,” my father insists, his voice firm but desperate. “Naomi, I swear to you, he doesn’t know. Let’s just talk, me and you.” Again, with her old name.
"Stop talking in fucking riddles! What is going on?" I seethe, but neither of them acknowledges me.
What am I missing here?
Her eyes narrow, doubt flickering across her face for just a moment before her expression hardens again.
“You want me to believe this is all just some kind of coincidence?” she snaps, her voice cutting like a whip.
My patience snaps. I lean forward as far as the restraints allow, my voice dropping into a low growl. “What the fuck is going on? Someone tell me. Right now.”
Carina turns to me, her expression a storm of anger and something deeper—something darker.
“You played me,” she spits, her words laced with venom.
I stare at her, the accusation slamming into me like a freight train. “What?” I shake my head, disbelief etched across my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice softens, a desperate edge creeping into my tone as I search her eyes. “You know me.You know me.”
Her composure cracks. A scream tears from her throat, so full of pain and fury that it shakes me to my fucking core.
"STOP THE ACT!"
My whole body goes still.
Her words hit me like a physical blow. For a moment, I see the pain beneath her rage, the flicker of something that still ties us together.
It’s fucked up, but that glimmer of emotion settles something in me. She still feels something for me.
Even if it’s hatred.
But then, something sharp and unfamiliar buries itself in my gut for the first time.
Fear.
I swallow it down. Keep my voice steady. “Tell me what it is you think I did.”
“You’re working with him,” she snaps, her voice trembling. “It’s the only explanation.”
The words drop between us like a lit match on gasoline.
A slow, sharp exhale escapes me, followed by a bitter laugh. “You know I don’t want anything to do with his fucking company!”
Her voice breaks, the fury in her tone giving way to something more fragile.
“He’s the sixth man!”
The world tilts.
My breath catches.
The room blurs and fades.
