Chapter 26 #2
His eyes meet mine, cold and calculating.
“Your mother was charming, yes, and beautiful—I could sell that.” Disdain drips from each word.
“But charm fades, Eve.” He leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper that makes my skin crawl.
“She thought she could leave without consequences. That her womanly whims might hold power over me.”
Bile rises in my throat. The familiar scent of his cologne—cedar and spice—threatens to choke me.
I shake my head slowly, disgust twisting my features.
“She was never a whim. She was my mother.” The words come out raw, years of pain bleeding through.
“You thought you owned her—body and soul. And you couldn’t stand the idea of her breaking free. ”
His eyes narrow at my defiance, something dark and volatile roiling beneath his composed facade. The dim light catches the crystal tumbler in his hand, throwing fractured shadows across his face. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken accusations and bitter truths.
The study’s walls press closer, the air thick with decades of lies and violence. I force myself to stand taller, channeling every ounce of rage that’s fueled me since that night.
“You think you can hide behind your wealth and power? You think that will shield you? I might have been a child when I found her…” My voice catches, memories of Mother’s broken body flooding back.
I swallow hard, refusing to let him see me cry.
“But every day since then, I’ve been haunted by the weight of her absence—your betrayal! ”
Ano’s composure cracks. He leans forward, fury etching deep lines around his mouth. “You’re twisting this! You think you can rewrite history?”
“No, I’m exposing it! Just like you buried her!
” The words explode from me, each syllable a weapon aimed at his careful facade.
My hands shake, but my voice stays strong.
“You buried her under marble and lies, under police reports that glossed over the bruises, under whispered rumors about her ‘instability.’”
The leather of his chair creaks as his fingers dig into the armrests. I see it in his face—the way my accusations strip away his delusions of control, of righteous authority. Each word hits like a hammer against the walls he’s built around his crimes.
“Every charity ball, every society photograph—they were just pretty wrapping paper around your brutality.” I step closer, forcing him to face the truth in my eyes.
“Did you think I wouldn’t remember the sound of her crying?
The way you’d lecture her about appearances while she covered her bruises with expensive foundation? ”
His mask slips further, revealing the monster beneath. I watch him wrestle with the exposure, with having his carefully constructed narrative torn apart by the daughter he thought he’d silenced.
“You built this empire on her grave,” I continue, each word precise and cutting. “Her death wasn’t enough—you had to destroy other women too. Turn their bodies into profit, their lives into ledger entries.”
His composure fractures with each truth I hurl. The careful mask of control slips, revealing something desperate and wild beneath. I watch fury build in those cold eyes—the same look I remember from childhood, right before his rage would explode.
“You’re nothing but a spoiled child playing at journalism,” he spits, fingers white-knuckled around his crystal tumbler. “You think your little investigation will change anything? I built this empire! I control everything!”
The words echo off mahogany panels, his voice rising with each sentence. Sweat beads at his temple despite the room’s chill. I’ve never seen him so unraveled, so close to losing his iron grip on that carefully crafted image.
“Control?” I laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. “Like you controlled Mother? You killed her the moment she showed a spark of hope, didn’t you?”
The crystal tumbler shatters against the floor. Amber liquid spreads across Italian marble like spilled blood. His face contorts, decades of practiced sophistication crumbling under the weight of exposed truth.
“You ungrateful—” He lunges forward, hands outstretched like claws. The movement is desperate and uncontrolled—so different from his usual calculated violence. His expensive cologne fills my nostrils as he reaches for me, the familiar scent triggering memories of countless terrors.
His hands are inches from my throat when I hear it—a slight scrape of movement beyond the study door. A sound so faint it could be imagination, but I know better. I’ve learned to read the shadows in this house of horrors.
My father’s face twists with something primal, his lips pulled back in a snarl. This is the monster beneath the Armani suit, the truth I’ve spent eight years trying to expose. All pretense of civilization is stripped away, leaving only raw, murderous intent.
His hands reach for my throat, but years of self-defense training kick in. I dodge, blood rushing in my ears as I think of Remy somewhere below us, suffering because of me. I need to buy time. Every second matters.
“You’re right about one thing,” I spit, backing away from his grasp. “I was too young then. Too weak to save her.” My voice cracks with raw emotion. “But I’m not that terrified little girl anymore.”
Ano’s face contorts with rage. “You’re still nothing! A pathetic reminder of her weakness!”
He lunges again, but I sidestep, letting his momentum carry him forward. The Persian rug slides beneath his expensive shoes. “Mother wasn’t weak,” I snap. “She was brave enough to plan an escape and bring me with her. That’s why you killed her, isn’t it?”
His fist connects with my jaw, pain exploding across my face. Each moment I keep him here is another chance for Declan’s team to reach Remy.
“You destroyed her,” I continue, circling him now. “But you won’t destroy me. This ends today—for her, for every woman you’ve trafficked, for that little girl who found her mother’s body hanging from that chandelier when she knew that you were the one who ended her life.”
He charges like a bull, ancient books crashing from shelves as I dodge. His control has completely shattered. I block his next swing, and my body moves on instinct. The impact jars my bones, but I don’t yield.
“Look at you,” I taunt, knowing it will fuel his rage. “All that power, all that control—stripped away by the daughter you couldn’t break.”
He grabs my hair, slamming me against the desk. Pain shoots through my spine, but I drive my elbow back, catching him in the solar plexus. He stumbles, wheezing.
“I’ve spent all my professional years preparing for this moment,” I growl, straightening despite the pain. “Gathering evidence, building strength, waiting to tear down everything you’ve built.”
His next attack is wild and desperate. I duck under his arm, landing a solid hit to his kidney. He howls in pain and fury, but I press on. “This is for Mother. For every tear, every bruise, every silent scream you forced her to swallow.”
We grapple across his study, this room that once held so much terror for me. Each blow we exchange is charged with decades of pain and rage. I refuse to back down, matching his strength with a fury born of justice long denied.
The impact knocks the breath from my lungs as Ano slams me against the wall. Pain blooms across my back, spots dancing in my vision. His hand wraps around my throat, pressing just enough to make breathing difficult.
“Look at you now,” he sneers, yanking my bag from my shoulder. “Still that same pathetic little girl, thinking she can play in a man’s world.”
I struggle against his grip, but decades of rage fuel his strength. My head throbs where it hit the wall, each breath a battle against his crushing hold.
He rifles through my bag with his free hand, pawing through papers and files like a predator savoring its kill. His smile grows wider, more twisted with each document he discovers.
“All your precious evidence.” He waves the papers in my face. “Everything you’ve gathered, every secret you thought you could use against me.” His laugh is hollow, cruel. “And now it’s mine.”
His familiar scent makes my stomach turn. Or maybe that’s the lack of oxygen. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as his grip tightens. I try to kick, but he’s too close, and I feel about to faint.
“You really thought you could destroy me?” He leans closer, his breath hot against my face. “I’ve crushed better journalists than you. Smarter, stronger people who dared to challenge what’s mine.”
Despite the pain, despite the terror clawing at my chest, I feel laughter bubble up. It starts as a wheeze, growing stronger as his grip loosens slightly in confusion.
“What’s so funny?” he demands, shaking me.
I meet his gaze, letting my lips curl into a mocking smile. “You still… don’t get it… do you?”
His eyes narrow, that familiar anger flickering behind the ice. I use his momentary confusion to gulp in air, steadying myself.
“Those files?” I gesture weakly at my bag. “They’re copies. The originals…” I pause, savoring the flicker of uncertainty in his expression. “They’re already with the FBI and every major news outlet in Chicago.”
The color drains from his face. His grip loosens enough for me to speak clearly.
“Everything. The trafficking routes. The offshore accounts. The bribes.” Each word lands like a bullet. “Even Mother’s autopsy photos—the ones you paid to have buried.”
“You’re lying,” he snarls, but I hear the fear beneath his rage.
“Am I?” I laugh again, the sound raw and triumphant despite my position. “Check your phone, Ano. It should be breaking news by now.”
His eyes dart to his desk where his phone sits, its screen dark with possibility.
“You’re finished,” I whisper, watching panic crack his perfect mask. “Everything you’ve built, every lie you’ve told—it’s all crumbling down.”
Blood fills my mouth as he strikes again, this time catching my cheekbone. Each impact sends shockwaves through my skull.
“You worthless bitch!” His scream tears through the study. “I’ll kill you myself!”
Another blow rocks my head back. The world tilts sideways as my legs give out. The marble floor rushes up to meet me, cold against my skin. Blood drips from my lips, pooling beneath my cheek.
Ano’s voice cracks with hysteria. “My legacy! My empire!”
I try to push myself up, but my arms shake, refusing to support my weight. The room spins violently, making my stomach heave. I hear footsteps thundering closer through the haze—heavy boots on marble floors.
Remy. My heart clenches. Please be safe. Please let Declan reach him in time.
“I should have killed you years ago!” Ano’s voice seems distant now, distorted. “Just like your mother!”
My vision blurs, shapes and shadows bleeding together. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. Each breath sends pain shooting through my ribs, where he kicked me.
I attempt to stand again, but my head spins so violently I collapse. The footsteps are closer now, accompanied by shouts I can’t quite make out. All I can think about is Remy, praying he’s far from this house of horrors.
The world fades in and out as I lay there, my father’s unhinged screams echoing off the walls. Blood trickles down my temple, warm and sticky. Through the fog of pain, one thought remains clear—let Remy be safe.