Page 156 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

Remi’s grandfather, who ordered his own grandson to be killed.

The devil responsible for all the evilness present in his life.

And now he’s taken me to hurt him once again.

Oh my God.

Remi

Leaning back in my chair, I grab this month’s report on their company.

The less-than-stellar numbers on their latest transactions, various partners terminating contracts with them, and banks refusing to give them loans, as their position on the market is unstable, brings me joy.

I can almost imagine Duke’s face at the thought of losing his empire in such a shameful way, because people already whisper about his side business and wonder how anyone being friends with him can be associated with that shit by default.

I’ve learned a lot by growing up with my friends in high society, and their one absolute rule?

Reputation is everything. No one will sacrifice theirs for your sake, meaning that if any family name is threatened, they will end friendships to save their asses.

Right now, Duke calls in every favor to stay afloat enough for some bank to give him a chance, but it won’t happen. I made sure everyone knew that helping him would mean going against the Four Dark Horsemen, and no one will do it.

Losing our alliances in business means death in our world. We are all connected to almost all the important chains in this country.

I’m the storm that isolated their boat, aka their empire, in the bloody ocean, waiting for it to sink to become a floating memory in time.

The rest of the family will still have a few million to fall back on, so no one should hurt much. Besides, most of them disliked Duke’s regime anyway, so I don’t see anyone crying over the fucker.

My hold on the report tightens, bending it in half, as a dark-haired woman flashes in my head. Her kind eyes haunt me in my nightmares, and for a second, the betraying part of me, the one I always shut up during my revenge, wonders how she will be once all this is over.

She never worked a day in her life, dedicating her time to the family charity organizations and helping those in need while tending to the gardens at their family home. She could almost be called a recluse. She was married for only two years before her husband cheated on her, and due to the prenup, she got nothing from that disastrous union.

And now she will find out truths about her father and forever be attached to the shame he brought to their dynasty. As his only heir, she will face scrutiny too.

“You want to destroy everything he built, not just punish him. Are you sure it’s fair to your mom, though?”

Throwing the report on the desk, I growl and get up, walking to the huge window with a view of the center of Chicago, where thousands of cars drive on the busy roads and people rapidly move, never catching a break.

Penelope’s question still haunts me, always playing somewhere in my mind the closer I come to my revenge.

For all these years, my mom has been just a woman who gave birth to me, a confused teenager who enjoyed her life as if nothing happened after her father cleaned up the “mess” she had made.

She never seemed depressed and stood by her dad at all the functions, supporting him in various ventures and staying his golden child. It was hard not to feel resentment toward her too, even though I excused her actions due to her age.

Isn’t it what all children do?

Excuse their parents, because it’s easier than bearing the pain of knowing they just don’t give a fuck about you?

But despite how much I haven’t wanted to think about her after meeting her for the first time, somehow I can’t shake the feeling that everything is not as it seems.

The woman I saw at the party didn’t seem content, happy, or peaceful.

She was just… sorrowful.

And everything in me screamed to soothe her distress, to tell her the son she buried is alive and has lived in hell because of her father, who she loves so much.

Yet I don’t dare do it.

I’m no prince, and she already thinks her son is dead. What’s the point of opening up old wounds?

---