10. Cast
10
CAST
T he last thing Willow says to me before the surgery after kissing Damien and blushing at Vincent, is not to kill Vincent. I laugh at her but agree anyway as I kiss her forehead, so softly it feels out of character for me.
Now I find myself in the hospital chapel, dim and silent except for the occasional flicker of votive candles. I'm alone here—just me and whatever divine presence might be listening. The wooden pew creaks as I shift my weight.
Death is an old friend but losing the love of my life is a betrayal so deep that I don't think I would even forgive God for that slight against me. My father always spoke of God’s power like it was the one thing that could guide us. "God’s will is greater than ours," he'd say, and I saw the truth in his eyes. He wasn’t just saying it to sound strong—he believed it. There was a steadiness to him, a grounding force that made him unshakable.
I wonder if I believe in that like he did. It’s hard when everything around me feels broken. I’ve seen enough to know faith doesn’t always make life fair. But he never wavered, using his belief like armor. Maybe that’s why I still respect him—he found something bigger to hold onto.
I don’t know if I believe in God like he did, but hell, I don’t know what else there is to believe in right now. I believe in Willow. I used to believe in Damien and Vincent, but I don’t know if I could trust them right now. I am hiding more and more from them every day, it’s almost suffocating.
I run my hands through my hair, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. The polished wooden altar gleams dully in the subdued light.
"Why bring me an angel? A girl so beautiful. A girl who shines all of my darkness away." My voice cracks slightly. "Why bring her into my life just to rip her away from me before I'm ready? Why fuck with me like that?"
I stand suddenly, pacing the narrow aisle between the pews. The silence feels oppressive now, as if it's deliberately withholding answers.
"I never know if you are listening," I say, approaching the altar, feeling like an imposter in this sacred space. “I want you to listen loud and clear, right now.” My fingers trace the edge of the wooden altar, feeling the smooth finish worn by countless hands before mine.
"I don't know what sins I've done in past lives, but I repent." The words tumble out faster, more desperate. "I am sorry."
"Do not let the sins of the lover reflect on his love," I whisper, my voice barely audible now. My hands clench into fists at my sides, then slowly relax as I exhale.
"If you're real—if you're there—I'm not asking for myself. I'd trade places with her in a heartbeat. Just... don't take her. Not yet."
I stand there for a long moment, surrounded by shadows and silence, waiting for an answer I'm not sure will come.
The heavy silence of the chapel presses in on me as I finish my prayer. I’m alone—just me and whatever divine presence might be listening, if there even is one. I laugh softly at the thought. So much for heaven.
A slow clap. A sarcastic, drawn-out clap that cuts through the stillness.
I spin around, reflexes kicking in before my brain can catch up. My forearm slams into a soft but firm body, pinning whoever it is against the cold stone wall. My heart beats faster, but when I look down, I realize it’s Valentina. She’s smirking, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Praying, hermano?" she mocks, her voice dripping with amusement. "How very... holy of you."
I release her, taking a step back, the adrenaline still buzzing through my veins. "What the hell, Val?" I growl, my heart still racing, my muscles tense. She laughs, unbothered, flicking a strand of her blonde hair over her shoulder.
“ I thought you were supposed to be the tough one,” she teases, her eyes scanning me with an almost predatory interest.
"Don’t sneak up on me like that," I snarl, and she flinches at the sound.
She shrugs, clearly enjoying herself. “What can I say, hermano? Your lessons are paying off.”
“Why are you here, Val?” I drone.
She pouts, thumbing through the bible like it’s a magazine. “I have some intel.”
“What is it?”
She hums thoughtfully, dragging out the silence before finally speaking. "First," she hisses, drawing it out like she has all the time in the world. But before she can finish, I cut her off with a growl.
"No." I step toward her, moving so quickly it almost seems like I'm closing the distance with a predator’s precision. My presence is all-encompassing now—there’s no escaping it.
"First." She doesn’t back down, her eyes meeting mine with a challenge I don't hesitate to accept. She raises an eyebrow, letting the word linger in the air. "I get to go back home and see my mother."
I scoff, barely holding back a laugh. "Your adoptive mother is safe." There’s nothing she can use to manipulate me now.
She crosses her arms, unbothered by my dismissal. "You said I had to earn that privilege."
The words hit a nerve. I can feel the anger bubbling up, but I’m not about to let her control this. “I still can’t trust you,” I hum, my voice a calm, threatening hum.
Her eyes narrow, and she leans in, almost challenging me to retaliate. "Well, you can't trust Vincent either."
I exhale sharply, the edge of my patience wearing thin. "Tell me something I don’t already fucking know," I growl, my fists clenching.
She doesn't flinch, just continues to eye me with that irritating calm. "Did you know the Beaumonts are broke? "
I blink, disbelief momentarily freezing me in place. "Excuse me?" The words come out harsher than I intend, but it’s hard to hide the shock from my face.
Valentina’s smirk deepens as she watches me process the information. "Broke. The Beaumont family, Vincent included. Their estate’s crumbling. They’ve been living in debt for years, and now they’re desperate." She leans back casually, as if this is some trivial gossip. "The only thing that can save them now is a strategic marriage—Vincent’s marriage to a socialite with money."
The words hit me like a blow to the chest. "You’re telling me he’s been faking all of it?" I hiss, my mind racing. "Everything—the power, the connections, it’s all a lie?"
Valentina nods, almost savoring my reaction. "It’s not just a lie. It’s a front. They’ve been trying to keep up appearances, hoping no one would catch on to how far they’ve fallen. But now it’s too obvious. Vincent’s father is pressuring him to marry a woman with a name and a fortune. The Beaumont name means nothing without that kind of cash flow."
I stare at her, my thoughts scrambling to make sense of it all. "That doesn't make sense," I counter. "Vincent is married to Willow."
Satisfaction flashes in Valentina's eye, and I feel as if I've stepped right into her trap.
"No," she says, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. "They're not actually married."
My breath catches. "What?"
"It never officially happened," she continues, studying my reaction carefully. "The papers were never filed."
I run a hand through my hair, trying to process this betrayal on top of everything else. "Does Willow know?"
“Yup,” she says, popping the ‘p’.
“Fuck,” I curse, looking up at the smooth, tiled ceiling.
"So now you have a choice," Valentina says quietly. "What are you going to do with this information?"
“I’m not going to keep my promise to Willow.” I snarl, pushing past her and towards the chapel doors.
“Wait! My mother?”
“Supervised visit next Saturday.” I call, moving into the empty hallway.
I storm into the waiting room, blood boiling, and there he is—Vincent, standing there like nothing’s wrong. I don’t even think, just act. My fist connects with his jaw, sending him crashing into the chairs with a sickening thud.
“?Maldito!” I yell in Spanish, fury seething through me. “You were going to cheat on Willow, weren’t you? All to get money for your family?!”
Vincent stumbles back, wiping the blood from his lip, eyes wide with shock. He’s taken off guard.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he spits, wiping the side of his mouth.
“You’re done. You hear me? Done.” I snarl. “You stay the fuck away from Willow.”
“That's laughable, you want me to stay away from my wife?” Vincent growls, stepping up in my face until we're nose to nose .
“I know you two aren’t fucking married, pendajo !” I laugh, and his face pales. “That’s right, motherfucker, you’re done.”
His eyes flicker with panic, and for the first time, I see the fear creeping in. The arrogant bastard knows I’ve got him cornered, but I’m not done yet. He opens his mouth to speak, but I slam him back into the wall, my fist still clenched, the fury in my chest threatening to boil over.
“You’ve been using Willow the whole time, huh?” I hiss, my breath ragged with anger. “Making her think you’re her goddamn savior, but you were just passing the time until you could get some rich bitch cunt.”
“Get off me!” Vincent snaps, pushing against my chest, but he’s weak—he’s got nothing.
I shove him harder, his back hitting the wall with another thud. Hospital staff rush in, trying to pull me away, but I don’t care. I shake them off, shoving them out of the way with a grunt.
“The minute Willow is out of surgery. I am telling her.” I snarl.
“Cast, trust me-”
“Trust you?” I let out a humorless laugh. “I did and you married our girl and tried to steal her away.”
“Cast, I didn’t know.” His eyes are wide as he steps forward to me but I shake my head no.
“You didn’t know what, fucker?” I whisper. “You didn’t know I would find out? Or you didn’t know I would tell Willow, which one?”
“Cast!” Damien’s voice barks over the commotion .
“Yeah?” I call back, my eyes trained on the hollowed out state of the man I once called my brother.
“Take a walk!” Damien calls back, his voice firm, telling me that if I say no, he is going to kick my ass.
“You got it, brother.” I call back, keeping my eyes on Vincent the entire time.