Chapter 38 Decimated Family
Decimated Family
Isla
I made Roman furious, and I fucking thrived on it. In a second, he turned dangerous, ready to rip me apart, and I wanted it. To feel his palm against my skin. To have him teach me a lesson.
Seeing him again rattled my insides.
I had absolutely no arguments for what I’d said. In fact, I thought he would have made a great husband.
He stood so close, waiting for an explanation with his eyebrows raised and all his attention on me. "Well? Use that skillful mouth of yours. Tell me, why the fuck am I not marriage material, hm?" Oh yes, he looked so angry, and it turned me on so much.
I had no clue what I was doing. I was broken and raging after our breakup, but as soon as I saw him again, it was like I went in a totally opposite direction.
Addicted to him, I forgot all my pain and anger, all my willpower dissipating without a trace. Especially since he continued claiming that my dad was doing some sort of shady shit too. All of a sudden, his transgressions didn't seem so awful.
I was so weak.
"You killed your future parents-in-law? And the grandparents of your children?" What the fuck was I saying?! I was playing into this fantasy that I would marry him!
I absolutely refused to admit how much the thought excited me. Refused to acknowledge my deep desire for it.
At these words, all of him softened, and he dropped his shoulders, his eyes overcome with sadness once more.
I had to sober up. I had to end this. "Drive me home. And go back to L.A."
Ten minutes into our silent drive to my friend’s house, I spoke up. "Why are you still here?"
"Because of you." He responded somberly.
"When are you going back?"
My heart was threatening to jump out of my throat from how normal our conversation was. I wasn’t shouting or crying; he wasn’t trying to restrain me.
"Whenever you decide you want to come back with me." He spoke so simply about it that it broke my heart all over again.
"I’m not coming back.” I forced the words out of me. “I have no choice but to accept my spot at Columbia now. So, I'm staying. Stop torturing both of us." But there was no conviction in my voice.
"Transfer somewhere there. You can still do that." Roman still lived in the delusion that everything between us could be easily mended. I moved the conversation along.
"Where are you staying?"
"At The Plaza. Grand Penthouse suite. Come visit me."
Of course, the penthouse at The Plaza, not some no-name hotel. That didn't even surprise me.
"So fancy.” I responded with sarcasm but then decided to ask something I’d never asked anyone before, curious to see how he would respond. "How much money do you have?"
I finally turned to him, and he looked like he was trying to ballpark it. He lightly shrugged his shoulders and then said. "A lot."
"What, like sixty million? Ninety?" I asked with no shame.
"More like nine hundred."
Immediately, my little sarcastic smile was wiped off my face. How much did he say?! That was an insane amount of money! What the fuck was he doing hanging out in L.A. and spending his time with a woman who could barely make ends meet to rent an apartment?
I always thought that people who had that much money would be doing other things. Like eating caviar in Paris or bathing in Cristal champagne or something.
"Wow. I didn't realize people could even have that much money."
"Did you even look to see what you're inheriting from your parents?" Roman spoke curiously, surprising me with the question. Why would he even ask that?
"Yeah. Some cash, and a bunch of funds." I answered, trying not to think about any of it.
"Uh huh. Did you look to see how much was in those funds?" He probed again.
I tried to think back to my meeting with the lawyer after my parents’ death. I was grieving, broken from the tragedy, barely paying attention to what I was signing. I certainly didn’t look into any details.
"I don't…I don't think so..." I wondered out loud, distracted by the scenery. But the thought about my parents made me want to do something else—I wanted to show Roman where we used to live. I punched the address into the GPS on his car, doubting my decision. “Let’s go here first.”
His gaze flicked to the address, and I knew he recognized it. Asking no questions, he followed the new route.
And there it was—the house I grew up in. Roman pulled up to the curb, and tears poured down my cheeks. It felt good, like crying was my natural state of being.
I jumped out but stopped on the sidewalk right in front, mesmerized by the sight. Roman’s car door shut, and he slowly came to stand beside me.
The house looked so different but also exactly the same. The new family had new planters and a wind chime. They had repainted the garage door, and two cars were parked in the driveway.
Overwhelmed by memories and emotions, I began my little story. "My room faced the backyard. We had a pool, and one time, I watched my cat accidentally fall in there; it was hilarious." Our cat’s name was Snuffles because he was always a loud breather.
"When I was a teenager, I'd invite my girlfriends over, and we would swim in the pool and then make lemonade and talk about boys.
I really liked this one boy when I was in my junior year, and without me knowing, they invited him and his friends over one afternoon.
I felt so in love with him." I chuckled, wiping my tears.
Then I pointed to the second-floor window that faced the street. "That was my parents' room. One year, Ben—that was my brother’s name—accidentally broke the window when we were playing catch outside. My mom got so mad at him! But Dad called someone to fix it right away.”
I pointed to the driveway next. “I fell right there when I was like ten and busted my knee open on the stones, so Dad had it replaced the next week with asphalt.
To make sure it would be somewhat softer.
" I pushed the words out through my tears, but Roman just stood there quietly, listening with his hands in his pockets.
"We had the neighbor kid come to mow the lawn the last few years that we lived here because my dad said it would help him learn the value of hard work and money.
It's a lot of grass to cut!” My eyes caught on the beautiful flowers blooming underneath the family room windows.
“Oh, one year, after I watched Father of the Bride, I got so inspired by the flowers they had in front of their house that I begged my mom to plant something similar in our flower beds. See? They're still there!"
I had so much more to say. I could have talked for hours, telling him all about how we had a swing hanging from the tree branch in the front and little kids would sneak onto it in the summer.
How I did cartwheels on the front lawn with my best friend in elementary school.
How my father fixed mine and Ben’s bikes in the garage, and Mom brought us popsicles right before the bike ride.
Instead, I turned to him and asked. "Do you understand?
What you've ruined? What you did? How much pain and suffering you've caused me?
" I was so sad. I couldn't stop crying, but Roman stared at the sidewalk, refusing to meet my eyes.
"In one day, you decimated a family, a whole life story!
You murdered not just the owner of Anders C you killed a man who loved his family.
A man who cared deeply for his kids and his wife.
And! You murdered my mom! An innocent bystander who had nothing to do with the business! You took it all away. Everything!"
Sobs tore through me, all of me helpless to stop the grief that had been unearthed once more. My mind floated in all the memories, all the hopes I had. I so wanted to get ready for my wedding at my parents' house and to walk out the front door in my wedding dress.
I buried my face in my hands and sobbed harder, standing in front of the man responsible for my tragedy. Hopelessly in love with him!
That man took a step closer and wrapped his arms around me, tenderly pressing me against his chest. In his embrace, he walked me to the back seat of his car, helping me climb in and joining me.
He held me while I cried. Silently, he supported me, kissing the top of my head, rubbing my back, and holding me there—right at his chest. His white shirt was wet with my tears, his heart beating into my ear.
We stayed like that for a long time, until my sobs turned into sniffles and then my sniffles turned into deep breaths. He waited patiently, helping me calm down, never letting go.
"Baby..." he whispered so gently. "I'm so, so sorry for what I did.
If I could take it all back, I would. I would take it back one hundred times.
" He promised. "But I can't. I did something awful.
I do…bad things. I've done many, many bad things, and your family fell victim to it.
" His cold words were softened by his touch. "I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, Angel.” His voice cracked, none of this becoming any easier.
“I love you beyond measure, Isla. I love you more than I love life.
If I can't be with you, I don't have a reason to be.
" He sniffled, holding me tighter. Fuck, his words were melting my anger away.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry for what I did. "
Roman pulled me in closer, and just like that, we sat in front of my old house, both of us silently crying. How could life be so cruel? To bring us together? To give us this love, only to rip it away? Everything would have been simpler for both of us if we’d never met.
"Come back to me, Isla. Come back, baby," Roman pleaded, his lips at my hair, his arms squeezing my body tighter.
I so wanted to. I so wanted to be with him forever. But there was no way to argue it in my mind. How could I be with and love the person who was responsible for the death of my parents? It didn’t just sound wrong; it sounded like I had some sort of deep emotional instability to voluntarily do that.
"Roman...I love you." I said it. I said the three words that I swore to myself I would never say to him again. Sitting up in his lap, I finally gazed into his sorrowful eyes. "But how can I possibly be with someone who killed my parents? I can't…can't understand it."
"Then don't think of it like that!” He responded passionately. “You're making it sound like I'm some sort of crazy person who broke into your house and did that. Isla.” Roman suddenly turned serious. “Your father knew the risks."
"Why did you say my dad played by the same rules? Did he do something similar too?" I recognized how na?ve I sounded. But even if that rotten thought crawled into my mind, I refused to believe that my father was some kind of shady criminal.
Roman sighed, his hands sliding down my body and settling on my hips.
"Look. It's really…really not my place to…
it's not my place to tell you all the wrongs your father was involved in. You need to see it for yourself.” He tucked a stray hair behind my ear, speaking with conviction.
“And yes, I believe that he was a good father.
I believe that he was a good husband and loved you all very much, but Isla, he worked with people like me.
And you have an idea of what I've done." Roman trailed off, his gaze settling on our house.
Fear and adrenaline ran through my legs. I didn't want to believe him. But the way he phrased it made me realize that maybe…maybe my dad could have been both. Maybe he was a good father and husband and also…a criminal.
Like Roman. Roman loved me. He would have been an amazing husband. He would have loved our kids. But Roman was also a fucking murderer. Technically, there was a tiny possibility that my dad was both, and there was no way I would have known any of that.
I ransacked my brain for the hundredth time, trying to come up with any memories that would have indicated my dad was involved in something sinister. But I was so distracted by how Roman looked and how delicious his body smelled. He was devastated and broken, just like me.
I sighed and knew what I had to do. This was the moment where I would have to decide; either I come back to him, or I stick with what I knew was the only morally and logically correct decision. My tongue refused to say the words, but in my mind, this felt like the only way.
"Please drive me home now. And go back to L.A."