34. Chapter 34
Chapter 34
Beau
M ira had to take a few days off after the scene in Nina's office, but it turned out to be a good thing. For a week, she saw Dr. Ryan every day. I took her, waited for her, and then brought her back to her apartment.
Zahra and Nova became close with Mira—and they spent time with her at home when I had to be with Pari. I wished my daughter, and I could be with Mira, but during a session, I had with Dr. Ryan (with Mira's permission), she'd assured me that Mira would come back to Pari, but we had to let her set the pace. She was healing from brutal trauma that had been allowed to fester for years, and it was healthier for her to take her time before she was with Pari again.
I forced myself to be patient.
Mira started talking to Pari every day on FaceTime. She sang to Pari at night. I hated that I was with Pari but Mira was alone in Nova's apartment—but I'd brought this upon myself.
The good news was that Mira believed she could get past what I put her through and find a better way to live her life. Taking Ambien and ending up in the psych ward was a wake-up call for her. It had helped her see how she couldn't just pretend the ugliness in her childhood never happened—that she had to process it.
None of this was easy for any of us, but it was hardest on Mira.
I'd left Pari with Nova and Anson on a Saturday when I went to Atlanta, once I knew that Mira was going to be alright. Zahra promised to take Mira shopping and keep her occupied.
I knew Mira wasn't used to people taking care of her, so it was wonderful to see her accept the help, support, and companionship. She'd come a long way from the woman who'd knocked on my door all those months ago.
I drove the sedan I'd rented from the helipad to the part of Atlanta where the Sens lived. It dripped money—old, unspoken wealth that wrapped itself around the streets like a velvet curtain. The kind of neighborhood where the driveways were longer than most people's streets, and the houses…no, estates —were hidden behind wrought iron gates, manicured trees, and meticulously kept lawns that looked like they'd never seen a weed in their lives. It was the kind of place where the silence felt oppressive, as if the affluence had snuffed out all the noise. I was familiar with such neighborhoods. I grew up in one, hell, I lived in one in Savannah.
Mira's parents' house sat like a crown jewel behind a tall, black iron gate, sprawling across acres of land. The stone facade glistened in the afternoon sun, the front yard perfectly trimmed, not a blade of grass out of place. A fountain stood in the center of the circular driveway, water trickling down the sides of a marble sculpture that probably cost more than most people's homes.
This is where Mira grew up. This world of privilege and control, hidden behind gates and pristine facades. A world that had suffocated her, a prison disguised as paradise.
I parked in front of the house, and stepped out of the car, a tight knot of anger coiling in me. My shoes hit the stone driveway with a deliberate thud, each step echoing with the rage that had been building ever since they showed up at Savannah Lace, and tried to tear Mira down. Again .
They thought they could hurt her. Thought they could walk into my world and make her life hell because they didn't like how their story was unraveling. But not anymore, and I was here to make sure they understood that. I also wanted them to know who was responsible for their downfall, which I was orchestrating behind the scenes—some legally and some, well, not so legally.
I strode up to the front door, my fists clenched at my sides, and pressed the doorbell. The chime echoed inside, and for a moment, I could feel the pressure building in me. I wasn't just angry—I was furious .
They had pushed Mira to the edge once before, and now, after she'd finally started to put the pieces of herself back together, they had the audacity to show up and try to break her all over again. And for what? To keep up the perfect illusion of their lives? To rewrite history in their favor?
Not on my watch.
The door swung open.
Anil Sen looked at me, his face a mask of calm, but in his eyes there was a cold calculation. This man was a narcissist; adept at playing the decent man, which he wasn't. The idea of this man hurting my Mira was abhorrent, and I resisted the urge to beat the crap out of him. No one would be helped by me getting arrested for assault, though I had enough influence in the state of Georgia to make that case go away.
"Beau," he said smoothly, his voice had the polished edge of someone used to getting his way. "What an unexpected and pleasant surprise."
My eyes locked on his. "Unexpected, yes, but definitely not a pleasant one."
"As you say." His eyebrow twitched slightly as he stepped aside, waving me into the house like I was a welcome guest, here to chit-chat over chai and pakoras .
The inside of the house was even more nauseating than the outside—grand chandeliers, gleaming floors that reflected the light from the massive windows, art hanging on the walls that looked like it belonged in a museum. Every inch of the place screamed money, and yet Mira had been scrimping to have enough gas money .
Seema Sen was in the sitting room, perched on the edge of a cream-colored sofa that probably cost more than Mira's fucked up car. She looked up as I entered, her eyes narrowing slightly, though she plastered on that same sickly-sweet smile that her husband wore.
"Beau," she greeted. "We didn't expect to see you here after what went down in Savannah."
"I'm sure you didn't."
Seema's smile faltered, just for a moment, before she exchanged a quick glance with her husband. Anil moved to sit beside his wife, his hand resting on her knee like he had all the time in the world.
I kept my advantage and stood in the center of their luxurious living room. I knew how to intimidate, how to use my size, my demeanor, my power.
"We're only concerned for Mira's well-being," Anil said smoothly. "Given everything that's happened, we thought it would be best to speak to her employer and—"
"Cut the bullshit," I snapped, my voice low and dangerous. "You didn't go there because you're concerned. You went there to make sure that no one believes her about how you tortured her. You went there to ruin whatever life she's been trying to build. You can try to dress it up however you want, but we both know what this is."
Seema sighed, shaking her head like she was disappointed in me. "Mira is...unstable, Beau. She's always been…difficult. She makes up stories, and it's sad to see that you've fallen for her lies."
They were good, I'd give them that. They had the act down perfectly. The concerned parents, just trying to do the right thing for their poor, damaged daughter.
"I fell for your lies, which I'm ashamed about," I drawled. " You manipulated her, you abused her, and then you tried to get my daughter. You're fuckin' sick."
Anil's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker in his eyes. The slightest crack in his polished demeanor. "We are Mira's parents, Beau. We have always done what was best for her."
"Anil, Seema, I want you to hear me very carefully." I tucked my hands in my pocket as I walked close to them. "I'm not a good man. I'm a bad man. I'm fuckin' dangerous. If you did your homework, you'd know that. You'd know that you don't fuck with a Bodine. Mira is mine . I'm going to obliterate both of you."
Seema's eyes flashed with fear, but she hid it quickly. "If you're here to threaten us, you may as well leave."
"I will leave." I took a step closer, enjoying seeing these two despicable human beings squirm. "You think you can just rewrite the past because it suits you? Because it's easier than facing what you really are?"
Anil stood up slowly, his face hardening as he tried to go toe-to-toe with me. He was several inches shorter and about fifty pounds of muscle lighter.
"I think you've overstayed your welcome, Beau."
I chuckled. "You're a bully, Anil. But I'm not a ten-year old child. I'm a grown ass man who knows pretty much every judge, politician, and cop in Georgia. Your days are fuckin' numbered."
"Get out," Seema screeched, standing by her man.
I took a step forward, not backing down an inch. "You're going to stay the hell away from Mira. You're not going to contact her, you're not going to show up at her job, and you're sure as hell not going to play these games anymore. Because if you do, I swear to God, I will burn down your whole fucking life." I paused dramatically and smiled maliciously. "Well, probably gonna do that anyway."
For the first time, I saw the real Anil Sen—the cold, calculating man who had spent his life manipulating everyone around him. His lips curled into a small, humorless smile. "You don't know who you're dealing with."
I leaned in, my voice deadly calm. "Neither do you." I grinned then. "Y'all have a nice day. You don't have many nice ones left. Mark my fuckin' words."
I turned and walked out of the house, anger still burning inside me as I stepped back into the cool evening air. The sun was setting over the perfectly manicured lawns, casting long shadows across the pristine driveways. This was their world, and they thought it made them untouchable, insulated by wealth and power—but I was richer, bigger, and badder .