Page 65 of Certified Pressure 4
I looked at her and felt nothing but disgust. For all her talk of struggle and survival, she’d proven herself hollow. I could never understand that kind of emptiness.
“My son was shot,” I said calmly. “He almost died. I sat beside him in that hospital room watching the machines breathe for him, and all I could think about was how I wanted to trade places with him. I would’ve taken every bullet, every ounce of pain, if it meant he could open his eyes again.” I looked at Silky,my voice calm but sharp enough to slice through the air. “That’s what a mother does. She bleeds before her child does. She dies before she lets her child fall.”
She wouldn’t look at me. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, her breathing shallow and shaky.
“You disgust me, Mrs. Charm,” I said softly. “You brought a child into this world, and instead of protecting her, you’re handing her over to be hunted.”
She stood up quickly. “I think I should go.”
I smiled politely. “That won’t be necessary.”
Before she could take another step, two of my men entered the room. They didn’t speak, and neither did I.
“Be gentle with Mrs. Charm,” I said.
Silky’s voice cracked. “Please, Abeni?—”
I stood, smoothing my skirt. “You wanted money. Now you’ll learn what it costs.”
They guided her toward the door as she begged to leave. Outside, the black suburban was already waiting. She was placed inside carefully, still trembling.
I took the passenger seat, calm and composed as always. Silky looked at me, her voice barely a whisper. “Where are you taking me?”
I looked at her with a faint smile. “To see your husband.”
During the drive, I watched the city disappear behind me, the lights growing smaller until the world was quiet again. My focus was not on where I was going, but on what was about to be done.
The building was an abandoned art conservatory on the outskirts of town, purchased under a shell company years ago and converted into one of my private facilities. The structure was old but beautiful, with high glass windows that caught the light even in darkness, marble floors, and gold-trimmed columns that shined faintly in the moonlight. It was poetic, really. Once a place for art was now a place for closure.
When we pulled into the long courtyard, the sound of the tires against the pavement broke the stillness. My driver came around to open my door, and I stepped out gracefully, my heels clicking against the stone. The air was cool, and I could hear the soft rustle of leaves somewhere nearby. One of the guards opened the back door, and Silky was forced out. Their hand stayed on her arm, guiding her toward the entrance.
Inside, the room was quiet, illuminated by the faint golden light of chandeliers that hung high above. Kojo was already there, standing near the center of the room. His tall, composed frame commanded presence without needing to speak. When I entered, he looked toward me and extended his hand. I walked to him, taking it without hesitation, and he leaned in to kiss my cheek before brushing his lips against mine. There was comfort in his touch.
Silky was brought forward, trembling, her eyes darting around the space as if searching for mercy in marble. Moments later, Sterling was led out from one of the adjoining rooms. He looked worse than the last time I’d seen him. The days of confinement had worn him thin. His eyes were hollow, and his skin had taken on a pale, washed-out hue. When he saw Silky, he stumbled forward, his voice cracking as he called her name.
“Silky… oh, God.”
Her knees nearly gave out at the sound of his voice. The guards let her move closer until they were side by side, bothshaking, and broken. It would have been touching if it weren’t so pathetic.
Kojo’s arm brushed against mine, and I looked up at him. His expression was unreadable, calm yet sharp. He was here for me as much as for our son, and that alone gave me a sense of peace.
Sterling turned toward me with a bitterness in his voice that didn’t match the fear in his eyes. “You’re really doing all this for your son? He didn’t even die.”
I stepped forward, the sound of my heels echoing faintly against the floor. “Yes,” I said simply. “I am.”
He laughed weakly, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”
I tilted my head slightly, watching him. “Perhaps,” I said. “But you see, I’m not just doing this for him. I’m doing this because people like you and your wife destroy everything you touch. You take advantage of love, loyalty, and innocence, and then you pretend it’s the world’s fault when it all collapses.”
Silky’s voice trembled. “We didn’t do anything to you.”
“You raised the woman who shot my son and left him bleeding in the street,” I said softly. “You’re the mother who turned on your own child for money. You both deserve what’s coming.”
She started to cry, her body shaking harder as the guards kept her still.
Silky’s eyes filled with terror. “Please, I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I just?—”
“Don’t insult me with your excuses,” I interrupted. “I’ve heard enough lies from you and your husband to last a lifetime. You made your choices, and now you’ll live with them.
