Chapter 51
BLADE
The silence in John’s old office is thick, almost stifling. I lean back in the leather chair, letting my fingers tap idly on the polished mahogany desk. The office is mine now. Thankfully it didn’t take more than a few days to push the image of John and Jackie dying in here out of my head. Everything has been replaced and redesigned, including the old blue carpet that had blood splattered everywhere.
Courtesy of Amelia. Yes, I let her decorate my office too—she was so excited about it, and how could I say no to my angel? She did a good job of keeping it masculine, yet refined, with my favorite color, black, as the focal point.
A knock sounds, breaking the silence, and I call out, “Come in.”
The double doors swing open, and my personal guard, Voss, steps inside, his expression as neutral and unreadable as always. “Harvey’s here.”
A smirk tugs at my lips, a twisted satisfaction curling inside me. “Send him in.”
The door opens wider, and Harvey saunters in, a smug look plastered on his face. He exudes arrogance like it’s his second skin. It’s time to shatter his faux confidence—because I know it’s all a facade—and deal with him once and for fucking all, something I’ve wanted since I met the bastard. He plops down in the chair opposite me, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on the armrests. I love that he’s so calm, it’ll hurt that much more when I crash his world apart.
“Are you finally ready to hand over my bitch of an ex-wife? Or did you call me here to apologize for kicking me in the nuts?”
“Alright, Harvey,” I say, my voice dripping with disdain. “Two options. The feds are currently looking for you—they finally caught up to the millions of dollars you stole from a politician. That’s a pretty steep federal prison sentence for a crime like that.”
His eyebrows shoot up, and he perks up in the chair. “Stole millions of dollars? Bullshit.”
I lean in closer. “Funny, because the politician showed me records and proof. Transfers to an account in your name, opened with your ID. Specific dates, even video footage of you at the bank withdrawing large amounts. Amounts that exceed your yearly income.”
Having connections to politicians and DAs comes in handy a time or two.
His confidence wavers as the weight of my words hit him. “This—this is a setup. Why are you doing this? I’m not going to prison!” His voice cracks, eyes darting around frantically.
“To keep you as far away from my wife as possible. Especially after that disgusting fucking video you sent me.”
That video landing in my inbox along with Julie’s contract was like some sick joke from the universe. I didn’t look at it for a while, until I was searching for something old Asher sent and stumbled upon it again.
Imagine my surprise when I opened a video of him having sex with multiple girls. But that’s not the bad part, the bad part is they all looked like Amelia. Identical. Some even had pink hair bows and wavy blonde hair that matched hers perfectly. Like he purposefully dressed them up to pretend they were someone he couldn’t have. His own daughter.
He called one of them Melly , which I’m sure I’ve heard Amelia’s mother call her before, so I’m assuming it’s a nickname she’d had since young. Just sick.
Even now, bile rises in my throat every time I think back to it. If Amelia weren’t so stubbornly set on not having him killed, I would’ve killed him with my bare hands that day. And I’ve never killed anyone with my bare hands.
Did he treat Amelia like shit all her life because he resented not being able to have her? Did he see her as some twisted replacement for her mother, since they look so much alike? These questions have been gnawing at my mind like parasites, why I kept Amelia far away from the sick pig’s house.
Harvey’s face shifts to pure panic, sweat beading on his forehead. He fidgets with his cufflinks, his fingers trembling as the rest of his body shakes as well.
Good.
I want him to suffer.
I want him to be so scared he shits his pants.
I want him to live out the rest of his miserable life far, far away from Amelia.
“S-so what are my two options?”
I watch him with a cold, measured gaze. It takes everything in me not to slit his throat whenever I see him. “Option one: you go to prison for the rest of your life. Option two: you relocate to a country that doesn’t extradite to the United States, where you’ll spend the rest of your life. If you ever try to come back, the feds will lock you up upon entry.”
His eyes widen in horror as his breathing becomes uneven. “Another country?! Why can’t I just go to fucking Florida or something?”
“Not far enough. You’d be able to come back whenever you want. My priority is giving my wife peace of mind and safety.”
He swallows hard, his throat bobbing as his jaw clenches, tension rippling across his face. I can almost see the calculations running through his mind, weighing each option, searching for a way out.
“What’s it going to be, Harvey?”
“I… I’ll go to another country.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m not going to prison.”
“The jet is scheduled for tomorrow. Until then, you’ll have a security detail on you, and they’re right outside the door now, so don’t try anything stupid.”
A knock on the door interrupts the tense atmosphere before he can respond. Again, I call out, “Come in.”
I need to talk to Asher about setting up some kind of system for answering the door. I’ve promoted him to head hacker, which basically just means he’s working directly under the president now—me. So not much has changed between our previous dynamic, except for his massive pay bump.
Voss steps inside again. “Lots of visitors today. Someone is here to see you.”
I nod, dismissing Harvey with a wave of my hand. He grumbles but shuffles out past the guard, slamming the door behind him. Men always act like toddlers when they’re defeated.
The door opens again, and my dad walks in, his presence immediately altering the room’s atmosphere. For the better? He actually looks good, and seeing him feels good.
“So, is this where she…” His voice trails off as he glances around the room before taking a seat.
“Yes, but let’s not focus on that. How are you?”
He smiles faintly. It’s genuine but I can tell he’s still struggling. “Good. I feel good. I mean, it’s hard, but nothing in life is really easy, is it? It’s been a few months and every day gets a little easier.”
“Glad to hear.”
He’s in a recovery program nearby, twice a week. As soon as John died, I brought him back from Mexico. I might’ve had some guys from the group threaten every bar and liquor store within a fifteen mile radius to never serve him.
But he’s been doing good.
Out of nowhere, a mischievous glint twinkles in his eyes. “Hey, who’s that fine-ass blonde woman gossiping with the cook in the kitchen?”
I blink in surprise, but only long enough to reset my poker face. “That’s… Amelia’s mom, and for the love of God, she’s off. limits. She’s in therapy and she doesn’t need any distractions towards getting better.”
He raises an eyebrow, nodding as if he’s just solved a riddle. “Riiiight.”
“I mean it. I see that look in your eye.”
“Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Also, why didn’t you tell me those two big buff dudes were going to drag me into a clinic and beat me when I refused?”
I give him a hard look. “Dad, you and I both know you needed it.”
He nods, a bittersweet mix of gratitude and resignation written on his face. “Thank you. For caring enough to go through the trouble. And wow, you haven’t called me dad in like…” A small breath escapes him. “Years.”
“Let’s not start getting all sentimental now.”
His shoulders shake lightly as he chuckles. “Actually, in recovery, I learned that sometimes it’s good to be emotional or sentimental . Bottling your feelings up is never good for you.”
“What, are you a preacher now?”
“Maybe just a bit of wisdom from the road I’ve traveled.”
“Well, if this is the new you, I’ll have to get used to it—”
The intercom crackles to life, and a voice fills the room, interrupting my sentence. My dad looks like he’s seen a ghost, and almost jumps out of his seat, cursing under his breath. I can’t help but laugh at his reaction, he looks like a kid spooked in a haunted house.
The voice belongs to Amelia, and I take a moment to appreciate how I got Asher to connect an intercom from the bedroom directly to my office. There’s also going to be one in her fashion studio when it’s done being built here. It’s a small touch that lets Amelia easily call into the office whenever she wants, so she never feels left out or neglected. It’s my way of reminding her that she’s my priority, especially because some nights working in the office will get long.
“Hey, whatcha doing?”
I press the button and reply to the speaker, “Not much. Why, do you need me?”
Her voice is playful. “Well, I don’t need you, but I’d like it if you came to the room.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
My dad rises from his chair, stretching. “Yeah, you go handle that. I think I’ll head to the kitchen—heard they’re making brownies.”
I give him a pointed look. “Make sure the brownies are the only thing you’re going there for.”
I stand and give him a quick pat on the back, pulling him into a brief hug. It feels weird, but… good.
I head to the elevator, taking it down to the middle level. The middle level is just a luxury apartment—a living room, kitchen, master bath, master bedroom, walk-in closet, and a couple of extra rooms that we can turn into whatever we want. When you first walk in, there’s an entryway with marble floors that lead into the living room area.
The doors to the entryway slide open, and Amelia is there, beaming, her eyes sparkling as she gestures around the space.
“Hey,” I say softly.
A small smile tugs at her lips. “Hey yourself.”
I cross the threshold and sweep her up into a hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around before setting her down.
“Do you like it?” she asks. “This is what I wanted you to see, the design of this level. It’s finally done.”
“Of course, I love everything you design because you’re so good at it.” I kiss her forehead.
She beams even brighter, taking my hand and leading me around the space, first the living room then the bedroom. Her pride is evident as she points out each carefully chosen detail, from the fabrics to the custom furniture. Of course, I don’t give a rat’s ass about home decor, but she wouldn’t know that by how I excitedly listen and ask questions, engaging in her interests with her.
When we reach the canopy bed, I can’t help but joke, “Looks like we need to break in the new bed. This one doesn’t even have your scent on it yet. Maybe I should also put some permanent restraints on all four of the bedposts.” My hand glides over the expensive comforter, smirking.
Her eyes dart to mine, and she fixes me with a sharp, yet lighthearted stare. “Stop being so horny all the time. Besides, that’d be dangerous for a baby to stumble upon.”
We finish taking in the new space together. It’s not just a room, it’s a symbol of the new chapter in our lives. The whole house is.
She’s been through a lot with me, most women probably would’ve stopped loving me a long time ago. But she’s still here. Still mine. And most importantly, I still have her heart. Something that I promise to handle with absolute care for the rest of my days.
As she stands in front of me, I loosely grip my hand around the back of her neck, playing with the necklace. Our breathing is synchronized like we’re two halves of the same whole. “You’re everything, you know that, right?”
She nods. “I do. But I want to know why.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to know why.” She turns around and looks me dead in the eye. A torrent of questions spill from her lips in a frenzied rush. “Why me? Why are you an asshole to everyone else but completely different with me? Why do you love me? Why are you obsessed with me? What if—”
I reach out and grab her neck, this time adding more pressure. A lot more. I could see it in her eyes that she was going into panic mode, doubting, overthinking. Going to that dark place where she questions everything. And me grabbing her neck, with force, always grounds her and pulls her back from the edge.
“Now, I’m going to let go, and when I do, you’re going to be calmer and breathing normal, right?”
She nods, and her eyes are starting to gloss over. Which is better than the fear that was in them a second ago.
“ Right ?”
“Yes, Blade,” she breathes out, and I hum in satisfaction.
I slowly remove my hand from her neck and wait to make sure she’s fully calm before I speak. “What if? I couldn’t even let you finish that sentence, because are you seriously asking what if ? Amelia, I can’t live without you. Before you came along, I was lost, drowning in my own darkness. But you—you’re my light. Just being near you floods my brain with so much dopamine it almost hurts sometimes. You scratch an itch in my brain, an itch that I didn’t even know could be scratched.”
I brush a strand of hair from her face as a tear slides down her cheek. “I love that you love all the fucked-up parts of me. You don’t just accept them, you embrace them. I love every single thing about you. There’s not an inch of you that I don’t. Your mind, your heart, your body, your personality, your care for others, your passion. And you’re the only one who makes me feel… enough… whole. I love you. That’s just it. I love you. Ti amo.”
She smiles, that beautiful heart-stopping smile that makes everything else fade away. Another tear rolls down her cheek, and this time, I don’t reach to wipe it away. I want to see it, to feel the weight of it. It’s a physical representation of her emotion. Emotion for me . “I love you, too.”
“If you ever doubt my love for you again, I’m gonna tie you up and make sure you never forget it.” I pull her closer with a firm grip on her ass.
She laughs through the tears, nodding.
“Now, finish showing me the decor. We haven’t made it to the kitchen yet.”
Her eyes light up. “Oh! The kitchen is my favorite part, why I was saving it for last.”
“I’m glad you took over the design because if it were up to me, everything would be black, and the bedroom would just have a bed, TV, and mini fridge.”
“Home decor is a lot like fashion design. It’s an outlet for me.”
“Maybe I’ll have to buy a couple more houses so you can have more space to design.”
“Oh my God, stop!” She playfully hits my chest like she usually does whenever I say the first thing that comes to my mind. But I was serious. If she wanted me to, I’d buy ten more houses just so she could have space to do the things she loves. “This house is enough for me. Because it’s ours. Now we just have to make it a home.”
“It already is. Home is wherever you are, angel.”