47. Brady
Brady
I kneel on the floor in front of my wife’s discarded wedding ring.
I let her go. I let her walk away from our life together.
I had to.
Yes, I’ll lock her in a safe room when it’s necessary. But I’m not going to keep her in our home against her will.
My phone rings. A reminder of my duty, of the million other things I have to deal with right now. I pocket Cora’s ring and pull out my phone.
It’s Finn, confirming that all the police downstairs are on our payroll. I have him send them up, then tell him to go to Mam and Da’s on the South Side. This building is my responsibility. I’ll coordinate the cleanup myself.
After the police have removed the bodies and scrubbed the scene, I pay them accordingly and send them on their way.
Once I’m alone, the first thing I do is pour myself a stiff drink.
The second thing I do is check my nightstand drawer.
Beneath its false bottom, the key to my office’s safe room is missing.
I curse at myself for being a fucking eejit. I should’ve checked on all my hidden keys as soon as I’d seen the scratch on my home office’s lock. That telltale sign of her cunning.
My clever, scheming, beautiful wife.
I never deserved her.
I won’t force her to stay with me. Just like I wouldn’t force her to sleep with me until she wanted to, until she begged for it.
She won’t beg this time. I know my stubborn wife well enough to know she won’t be coming back.
Not after I locked her away. Certainly not after I endangered her brother.
By all rights, she should kill me for that.
At least it’d put me out of my misery.