Page 62 of Slightly Married
“I’m sorry, Kostas. Please understand.” Her voice wavered as she looked pleadingly between us. “They came to my house. They threatened me sexually. I was only helping Papa. I never wanted the attack to happen—”
“Then why not come to me?” I demanded. “To Theo?”
“Or the police,” Aris interjected. “Or any of the numerous resources available to someone of your position and connections.”
“Theo had cut Papa off after he paid the last gambling bill.” Her chin trembled as she glanced at her father. “I couldn’t turn my back on Papa. He has an illness, Kostas.”
Dimitrios scoffed, shaking his head. “An illness that justified risking lives? That justified your silence afterward?”
“You stood by and watched me agonize over the mystery,” I continued, fury building with each word. “Watched me hire detectives, scour the whole country looking for evidence, all while your brother lay cold in the ground and you said nothing.”
She collapsed in a heap of tears, face upturned to her father’s, which was gray with defeat.
“The authorities have been notified,” Aristides stated. “They’ll be arriving shortly to process arrests.”
Giorgos shook his head, still repeating that he never meant to harm anyone, but I was no longer listening. He was weak, small and pathetic.
“I stayed by your side,” Stella reminded me. “All those months during your recovery. I was there for you in your darkest hours.”
“You orchestrated those dark hours!” Aris said coldly. “And then positioned yourself as the solution.”
“It’s a classic manipulation tactic,” Dimitrios added. “Create the problem, then present yourself as the savior.”
“I was trying to fix it. Make up for what I’d done.”
“That’s impossible,” I snapped. “Nothing could ever fix things. You drugged me that night we fucked, didn’t you?”
Aristides’s head snapped toward me, his eyes narrowing at this new information.
“That’s not true,” Stella protested, though her eyes slid away from mine. “I’d never do that. You wanted me, don’t you remember?”
“Why are you still lying to me?” I demanded.
“Because she’s built her entire identity around this fantasy,” Aristides observed. “The truth would destroy her completely.”
“Please, Kostas.” She reached for my hand, which I jerked away. “You were so sad, and I wanted to make you feel better.”
I snorted. I had no proof to substantiate her drugging me except for waking up in her bed naked, smelling of sex and not remembering much of what happened.
But hearing her admission now made me realize this entire family had been banking on my grief to personally benefit. Giorgos financially, while Stella knew I’d feel bound to marry her after she engineered our night together after years of throwing hints.
If not for Kayla’s presence in my life, I might have remained blind to their schemes. And paying for sins—financially and emotionally—I didn’t commit.
In just a few weeks, Kayla had become my compass. I hadn’t seen her since she left my office two days ago, and I missed her terribly. Her honesty and ability to cut through pretense with those perceptive eyes had transformed the very core of who I was.
I wasn’t equipped with the right words to define what was happening between us. How could I articulate the lightness Ifelt in her presence, or the way her absence left rooms feeling emptier?
A shot rang out from another room in the villa, the sound reverberating through the high ceilings. We all froze, and it was only then I realized Giorgos had slipped away during the confrontation with Stella.
“Papa!” she shrieked, lurching to her feet and racing through the estate.
“Damn it,” Aristides cursed as we rushed after her.
As we moved through the corridor, Alexei, and the other security personnel converged on us from their posts throughout the estate, weapons drawn.
“Stay behind me, sir,” Alexei ordered, taking point as we hurried toward the source of the gunshot. My brothers’ guards fell into formation around us, their training evident in every step.
“Call an ambulance,” Dimitrios shouted. “Tell them to hurry.”
