Page 158 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

“Very well,” she says before walking farther, standing several feet away from me. “You’re ruining my family’s legacy. I’d like to know why.” She must read the surprise on my face, because she elaborates. “I might not be involved in the day-to-day action in the business, but I do recognize trouble when I see it.”

I go to the bar nearby and reach for the bottle of whiskey but then grab water instead, not wanting to drink in front of her and show her disrespect.

A bitter laugh almost spills from my lips.

Look how much regard I show to a woman who forgot me so quickly and even now comes to me to save her father’s ass.

My biological mother won’t stop me from executing my plan though. Her father doesn’t deserve to live peacefully when I’ve never gotten the chance.

Clearing my throat, I finally reply to her. “I’m a businessman, Ms. Carrington.” I turn around to face her again. As she frowns, small wrinkles appear on her forehead. She shifts uncomfortably, and in this moment, she seems lost, but I fist my hand, not allowing myself to notice anything more about her. “If I see weakness, I strike.” She opens her mouth to say something, but I beat her to it. “Your family’s legacy has been on the edge of a fall all this time. I just pulled the trigger on the chain of unstoppable events.” I motion to the bar and offer, “Would you like something to drink before you go?” The message between the lines is clear as fuck.

She needs to get the hell out of here before the bottled-up anger inside me erupts, letting me scream at her, asking how she can still come here and try to protect the bastard who took away her son.

I wash away the bitterness in my mouth with water, willing all my self-control gathered over the years to help me withstand this and never subject myself to such torture again.

“No, and I’m not done,” she replies coldly, and my brows rise at her tone. She isn't known to be outspoken.

It figures. I’ll be the one to make my mom lose her temper, and somehow this knowledge gives me pleasure.

I guess I’m more fucked up than I originally thought.

“You bought out all the shares, provided different contracts to our partners, shut out our various ventures by presenting such a good proposition to our opponents that they couldn’t resist. You isolated us on the market, and you know it!” She points a finger at me while I just sip my water, wishing it was whiskey, because the judgment in her voice annoys me. “And now you are coming after our family estate.” The bottle pauses midway to my mouth at this. “Our beautiful 19th century mansion that belonged to the first Carringtons on this land. My sanctuary.” She finishes her tirade on a whisper and grips the nearby chair, swaying a little. I shoot forward, the water spilling on the glistening marble, ready to catch her, but she shakes her head at me. “This is personal. Why are you so cruel to us, Remi? What has my family done to you?”

“My reasons are my own. Your father is not a saint,” I say with a snarl. “And just to make it clear, not that I owe an explanation to the Carringtons, I have no interest in your family estate.”

I only went for his assets and legacy; the various old buildings spread through the country with their rich history have no interest to me.

“He already brought a buyer there yesterday. He will sell it to cover other debts. He never liked the house anyway,” she whispers, staring in the distance, and then drops on the chair, clasping her trembling hands together. “The result will be the same.”

I resist any urge to console her and instead settle on something else. “I’m sure you won’t be homeless. Your father loves you too much to let that happen.”

“But he won’t find me anywhere else!”

“Who?”

“My son.”

I freeze. My heart stops beating for a fraction of a second as she raises her gaze, blanketed by tears, to me. Her eyes are so full of pain I can almost touch it.

“He won’t find me anywhere else.”

Thousands of emotions claw at me from every direction, opening up the wounds I patched up and shut away. It takes everything in me to push through the tightness in my throat. “I believe your son is dead. And wasn’t he just a day old when he died?”

She winces at my question, wiping away the tears sliding down her cheek. “That’s what my father says, but my son was wrapped in a woolen blanket with the family emblem on it that night.”

Emblem? I wasn’t even aware the Carringtons had one of those.

“I personally knitted it for him during the time my father kept me hostage in the family mansion so no one would know about his shame.” Distaste laces her tone on the last part as if she dislikes her father deep down and has no devotion to him. “When my son died, the blanket disappeared too.” She digs her nails into the chair’s arm, her knuckles turning white. “My father says I’m crazy, but what if my son is alive? Someone just took him for whatever reason?” The bottle of water scrunches in my hands when I grip it hard, trying to control the chaos slowly erupting inside me as this information goes against everything I’ve believed in. “That’s why I stayed at the house all this time. It’s the only one that has a family emblem on it.” She exhales heavily. “He won’t find me otherwise.”

“Ms. Carrington—”

She raises a splayed palm to stop whatever I want to say. “Please, don’t.” She places her hand on her chest. “My son is alive. I feel it here. I was powerless to stop my father from taking him away and couldn’t find him no matter how much I searched for him. But I’ll be damned if I’m willingly going to give up my last hope of reuniting with him.” Resolve flashes on her face along with pain. “Which means I’m not too proud to beg you to please stop your vengeance. Or do it in such a way my father won’t think about selling the mansion.”

I just stand still, staring at her as her lips quiver, and she does her best to catch all the tears dripping on her black dress, her eyes holding mine in silent request.

Was everything so far a lie?

My mother… she believes I’m alive?

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