My Dark Divine

57. Venetia

W hen you have immense wealth, power, and connections, preparing for a major event becomes effortless. In our case, we don’t even need to lift a finger—our parents have planned it all for us. The decorations, the endless guest list—half of whom West and I don’t even know—and every detail of the wedding have been handled without our involvement.

On one hand, it spares us the headache and stress, but on the other, it’s unsettling to have no say in our wedding. If we had our way, we wouldn’t be celebrating anything at all.

We don’t need to advertise what we feel.

The tradition feels cliché and tedious to us. In a way, I’m relieved to let it happen behind the scenes; it saves us both time and nerves. But I can’t fully relax. My mind keeps circling back to Lucas, his threat, and the inevitable confrontation. If this weren’t a high-profile event, he probably wouldn’t bother showing up. But with dozens of cameras, interviewers, and the eyes of everyone who matters, I know he’ll be there, with that smug, fake smile on his face.

And I’ll have to resist every urge to wipe it off.

It unsettles me as much as it irritates me. West went to the office today to wrap up some loose ends, and though I have work to do as well, I couldn’t bring myself to join him. Paranoia claws at my mind, urging me to devise a plan or strategy—anything that might help us emerge unscathed. The wedding tomorrow feels like a final act, but beyond that, everything blurs. For someone who prides herself on planning, I feel unmoored and utterly useless.

I’m scared for West. I don’t want him to hurt anymore.

The sudden ring of my phone snaps me out of my thoughts. I reach for it, feeling a twinge of disappointment when I see it’s not West. He’s the only one I can bear to talk to right now. Instead of his name, an unknown number lights up the screen. I dismiss it without much thought.

Not even a second passes before it rings again, and I raise my brows, surprised by the persistence. I press the green button and bring the phone to my ear with a clipped, “Yes?” making no effort to hide the irritation in my voice.

“Venetia, can you talk right now?” a male voice asks—familiar yet distant. “Are you with West?”

I narrow my eyes, caught off guard by the urgency in his tone and the question he asks. “Who is this?”

A long pause follows, so heavy that I consider ending the call. But then, his raspy voice finally cuts through. “It’s Eli.”

Confusion slams into me, and my eyes widen in surprise. “Uh… Eli? What do you want?” I don’t care if I sound harsh; he’s the one calling out of the blue, interrupting my day like he’s entitled to my time after vanishing and sending me those lousy flowers.

“Please, just answer my question,” he pleads, his voice tight with urgency. “I need to make sure no one else is around to hear this.”

“I’m alone. What’s this about?”

“Can we meet? I need to talk to you.”

The silence stretches, a taut thread between us. “Meet?” I echo skeptically. “For what? You’re calling me?—”

“Yes, I know how I sound,” he interrupts, his words tumbling out as if he’s in a hurry. “I know I didn’t give you the time or attention you deserved, and now I’m asking for something I shouldn’t. But it’s a matter of life and death, Venetia. I need to explain why I acted the way I did. I can explain everything .”

His emphasis on the last word almost makes me laugh. Explain why he treated me like garbage, constantly putting me down? “I don’t think I’m interested. I have a wedding tomorrow. Do you really think I can just go out with you?—”

“This isn’t a date or anything,” he cuts in, intensity seeping from his words. It’s the first time I’ve heard him be so insistent. “I need us to meet at the junkyard. I know you value privacy, and no one can know about this. Not even West.”

Whatever he wants to share, it’s got to be bigger than just another lame apology. He wouldn’t suggest a hidden spot like a junkyard unless it was serious. “Well… Okay?”

The sound of his exhale is a whisper of release. The slam of his car door echoes through the receiver, carrying a sense of finality that lingers in the air. “Good,” he breathes. “I’ll send you the address. See you in twenty.” The line goes dead, leaving me suspended in silence that hums with unspoken expectations.

Staring at my phone, I try to process what just happened. Part of me wants to call West, but the stronger, more practical side insists I go alone. West never liked Eli, and with his… volatile temper, this could end badly—with Eli’s mouth shut in the most brutal way, just for daring to talk to me.

Yeah, best to handle this one solo.

Exactly twenty minutes later, as planned, I pull into the junkyard—a place worlds away from the luxury houses, upscale parties, and everything else that usually surrounds me. Instead of chandeliers and marble floors, I’m greeted by piles of rusted junk, broken vehicles, and stray needles scattered across the ground. The sun’s evening glow filters through, cutting through cracks between stacks of trash and discarded furniture. At least there’s no overpowering stench; one small mercy is that I won’t have to burn my clothes after this.

I venture further in, glancing around for Eli. I had to park just outside the narrow entry path, which is only wide enough for foot traffic. A crow squawks nearby, startling me, and I look down, noticing fresh mounds of dirt here and there. It makes me wonder if there are bodies buried here, if I’m walking across someone’s grave.

And, of course, I came here unarmed. Great idea, dumbass. What if Eli intends to kill me?

“Venetia!”

I snap my head up to see Eli, not far off, smiling widely. He looks like he always does—casual clothes, hair meticulously styled, black roots contrasting sharply with his blonde strands.

“I have a meeting soon,” I lie, striding quickly to close the distance between us. “Be quick.” The entire setup here—the isolated junkyard, his strange urgency—is starting to get under my skin, especially since West has no idea where I am.

His smile fades, and I nearly laugh. Did he really think I’d still hang on his every word, desperate for his attention like I was before? “O-okay,” he stammers, nodding awkwardly. “Guess I’ll just... get straight to the point.”

He slips his hand into the pocket of his denim jacket and pulls out a small item. As he lifts it, the flash drive glints in the light, its importance almost deliberately underscored by the glow.

What’s up with everyone trying to intimidate me with flash drives these days?

I arch an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

Eli’s smile creeps back as he looks at the drive, his eyes glinting with a strange, obsessive satisfaction. “The entire world of Reyes Real Estate,” he says, his voice laced with fervent intensity. “The one and only weapon to destroy them.”

I blink, trying to process what he’s saying. “What? What the fuck does that mean?”

He ignores my question, his eyes fixed on me with newfound zeal. “I kept wondering just how difficult it’s been for you, Venetia,” he begins, veering completely off track. “At first, I was furious. But then, after all this time, it hit me— you were the victim here.”

Victim . The word lodges in my throat, a bitter pill I can’t swallow. My face contorts in a grimace of revulsion. “What?—”

“Your father manipulated you into marrying West,” he continues, cutting me off, his gaze growing softer in a way that only irritates me more. “And I was angry, so angry at myself for being unable to protect you. You’re the woman worth fighting for, Venetia. And fuck, I only realized that after you walked away.”

Eli steps closer, practically waving the flash drive in my face as if he expects me to snatch it with wild abandon. “I nearly got myself killed gathering what’s on this drive: blackmail, fraud, dozens of silenced allegations, paid witnesses—” His list continues, each word dripping with fervor. “I knew Lucas’s company was bad, but this… this is evil. He’s got the whole city under his thumb. We can’t let him win.”

My mind races, desperately trying to find a rational explanation, but all I can feel is a rising tide of disbelief. I take a step back, needing space to process this… whatever the fuck this is. “You’re saying you’ve dug up dirt on the company my dad works for? And you’re bringing this to me the day before I’m supposed to marry the leader’s son? Are you insane?”

He raises his hands in a mock plea. “You can’t rush a process like this! I told you, I nearly got killed for it. Lucas crushes his competition and anyone who tries to dig up the truth. But if we release this, there’ll be nowhere for him to hide.”

Shock and suspicion clash within me, a chaotic dance of emotions reflected in the tilt of my head and the skeptical gleam in my eyes. “We? Who’s ‘we,’ Eli?”

“You never wanted to marry him, Venetia. You didn’t sign up to work for a company that ruins lives. I know that. You’re better than this. You deserve a choice,” he says, his tone turning tender. “So I’m giving it to you. If we release this, Lucas and his son are done. There’s enough here to bury both of them.”

His jaw tightens, his lip curling into a snarl as his hand clenches into a fist, the veins standing out like taut wires. “God, West… I’ve always hated that bastard. Hated how he treated you, and hated him even more when I found out what he does. He manipulates and destroys people’s lives. He’s evil, and he needs to be eliminated—just like his father.”

It must be so easy to view life in such simple, black-and-white terms.

A sharp retort presses against my lips, but I bite the inside of my cheek to hold it in. The way Eli talks about West fucking grates on me, but I need more information from him.

“Who else knows about the drive?” I ask, keeping my tone as steady as I can. “Who were you working with?”

He shakes his head, slipping the drive back into his pocket. “No one. I worked alone.” When I scoff, he adds, “I’m serious, Venetia. Nobody was brave enough to join me. Everyone is scared of Lucas. I might be a screw-up at relationships, but I’m damn good at my job. And right now, I’m doing what any honest lawyer would: seeking justice.”

I believe him. Eli’s always been good at what he does. Justice has always been his driving force—his mission is to protect the innocent and hold the guilty accountable. It was something I thought I needed at my side—something pure, untouched by the kind of darkness I’ve lived with for so long. And now, here he is, offering me a choice.

When I first heard I was to marry West, I wanted to run. I wanted someone to save me from him. But now, after everything that’s happened, after every complicated, twisted moment with him, I realize that leaving is the last thing I want.

I used to crave approval, screaming for people to notice how hard I tried, and how much I wanted to be appreciated. With West, I don’t have to scream. I don’t have to try to get him to choose me. He simply does. He chose me without question, and I know he’ll keep choosing me—until death and beyond, in whatever form our souls may take.

And now, I choose him. Out of everyone else in this world, I will always choose West.

“What if I refuse?”

He gives a little shake of his head, that smug smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “I’m offering you a better life, Venetia. Once we release this, none of them will ever bother you again,” he says, as if I didn’t catch that the first time. “But if you don’t agree, I’ll still move forward. I invited you here because I think, for once, you deserve a choice. But don’t think I’ll cancel my mission if you say no. I’ll do it alone, and you’ll be left with nothing. But you deserve a fresh start.”

I let his words hang in the air, watching his face as impatience brews in his expression. I can sense his anger rising, the unspoken urge to yell at me, to call me foolish. He thinks my attachment to West is some twisted illusion, a mask over what he imagines is abuse—just like it had been with my ex-husband. Back then, maybe abuse had felt like love. Until the day I pulled the trigger.

I stand at a crossroads, faced with the choice to become the biased hero, to tear down the ‘evil,’ as Eli calls it. Lucas may deserve the worst, but I would die before letting anything happen to West, no matter how many have to suffer because of it.

Eli steps back, his eyes narrowing as hope fades from his face. There’s no fight in him, no determination to convince me further. Once again, he’s too afraid to go the distance, too weak to even try to prove he’s worthy of my choice.

Some things never change.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters before turning away, already prepared to disappear for good. Frozen in place, I watch him walk away, worry knotting in my chest, blending with shock and simmering anger. I can’t let him leave with that flash drive. I don’t care what he has on Lucas, but West?

No. I can’t let him release anything on him. Asking Eli to spare him would be pointless; he’s all about his so-called truth and justice. He’d want everyone to suffer equally.

A surge of adrenaline kicks in, and I spot a pile of rocks not far off. I glance at his retreating figure to make sure he hasn’t turned back.

Eli’s right. I deserve a fresh start. Both West and I do.

I stride over to the rocks, grab one, and grip it tightly as I catch up with him. It feels heavier than I expected, and I have to channel every ounce of strength into lifting it and swinging down. The impact is a sickening crunch, a sound that rips through the silence. He collapses, his lifeblood staining the earth, and I stand over him, the weight of my deed settling on my shoulders.

A slight relief that West isn’t in danger anymore trickles in, but I can already see how messy I’ve made this. When I dealt with Zayden, I made the same mistake—I’m too chaotic by nature, acting on impulse rather than logic. And now, I’m alone in the middle of nowhere, completely unprepared, and?—

No. I’m not really alone . Not anymore.

Kneeling beside Eli, I reach into his pocket and pull out the flash drive, turning it over in my hand as I raise it to the dimming light of the setting sun. Whatever this idiot found, it’s in my hands now—and I have a feeling it will be exactly what I need it to be.

What we need it to be.

I pull out my phone and call him, my mind racing to find the right way to share what just happened and the unexpected turn in our plans. He picks up immediately, his voice rough with a familiar drawl as he begins, “Yeah, baby. I’m done for today. I’ll be at your?—”

“ West .”

“What happened?” he asks, his tone shifting as he senses something is off.

“I killed a man.”

He is silent for a moment. “Where?”

I appreciate that he skips the stupid questions. “I’m at the junkyard on the north side of town. I don’t think anyone saw me.”

“I’ll be there soon. Don’t try to do anything without me, okay?”

“Okay.”

After hanging up, I take a moment to realize how twisted this all is. I don’t feel panic, remorse, or any of the emotions one might expect after killing someone. Instead, there’s a strange sense of calm. It’s as if what I did was necessary, so why should I care?

Why should I cry or scream when Eli was the one trying to hurt my fiancé?

West remains motionless beside me, his gaze locked on Eli’s body. I shift my focus from his face to the scene before us, hoping to understand his reaction.

Is he angry? Disappointed that I met with Eli behind his back? Or does he think I’m reckless for killing him so carelessly?

He arrived in less than ten minutes, and I walked him through everything. Once we reached the dead body, I finished explaining what happened and why, and since then, he’s been silent. The stillness stretches, a chasm of uncertainty between us. My stomach clenches, each stretching second a hammer blow to my nerves.

“Are you mad at me?” I finally ask, my voice a desperate plea in the stillness.

Slowly, he turns to me, his sapphire eyes glinting in the dim light of the nearby street lamp. It’s late now, and there’s no trace of the evening sun left, swallowed completely by dark clouds.

“Mad?” he echoes, and I can’t decipher his emotions. His voice sounds steady as if he’s still in disbelief. “Mad…” he repeats dreamily, trailing off as he steps back from the body and quickly closes the distance between us in a few strides.

I tense up, sucking in a quick breath when his hands find my face. Before I can react, his lips meet mine in a fierce kiss. I’m caught off guard, grabbing his hands to steady myself while the intensity of his kiss overwhelms me.

“What made you think I’d be mad at you, huh?” he asks between kisses. “If anything, the only thing that makes me a little mad is that I wasn’t here when you did it. I’d pay a million dollars to have seen that, baby girl.”

He presses himself even closer, and I feel his erection shoving right into my stomach. Of course . How could I not see this coming?

“You’re such a pervert, West,” I say, attempting—and failing—to inject a hint of annoyance into my tone. “I can’t believe this.”

He keeps kissing me, and I have to forcefully push him away before he decides to take things further right beside Eli’s body.

“What do we do with him?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, savoring the remnants of our kiss in a way that stirs a flutter in my stomach. I shift my weight, feeling slick warmth pooling between my legs.

Yeah, we’re definitely meant for each other.

“We need to delete the call he made to you,” he says, running a hand across his chin. “I’ll bury him somewhere here, and then we’ll take his car and sink it in a swamp. Luckily, I know one nearby.”

“Bury him? Do you have a shovel?”

He gives me an incredulous look, as if offended that I would question his preparation. “Baby, you called me and said you killed a man. Of course I have a shovel.”

A smile spreads across my face despite the chaos. This situation is utterly fucked up, yet it somehow feels like just another day at the office.

“Okay,” I say, clasping my hands together. “Let’s get to work, then.”

It’s well after midnight when we’re finally done. West gives the car one last push, shoving it into the swamp, and I can’t help but wonder if we should have just left the body inside. I suggested it, but he was firm about burying Eli in the junkyard, calling it symbolic. Given how flawlessly he dug the grave, I doubt anyone will uncover it.

So here we are—the weapon, his cleaned and smashed phone, the body, and the car, all scattered across different locations known only to us.

“Rest in piss ,” West mutters under his breath, his gaze fixed on the car as the swamp slowly engulfs it. I shake my head and give his hand a light smack in disapproval, at which he turns his attention to me. “What? He wanted to frame me and steal my girl. I don’t care about the first part, but the second makes me fucking jealous.”

I roll my eyes and reach for the collar of his shirt, brushing off the dirt. My fingers move to his face, pushing his sweat-soaked brown locks from his forehead, and I take in his appearance. He looks like he’s been through hell—which is true, considering he couldn’t even bear the thought of me digging in the dirt and dealing with the body.

“Jealous, huh?” I echo, my voice dropping to a sultry purr. I take hold of his loose tie, pulling the knot snugly and giving his throat a soft squeeze. A devilish smirk curls at the corner of his lips as he leans in, his warm breath brushing against my mouth. “I like this side of you. More than I should.”

“And you know what I like? The thought of fucking you so hard that you won’t be able to walk for a week, let alone think about making me fucking jealous again.”

Fuck. He wins again. I can feel my body hum with low, insistent energy, the throbbing between my legs growing harder to ignore with each passing second.

But we can’t do it here. Well, technically, we can, since neither of us has any morals left. We’re both so sick that this wouldn’t even be an exception.

Still, there’s something more pressing we need to discuss. I pull back, noting the disappointed sigh he lets out. Bitterness wells up inside me, but I force myself to remain still. “What do you think about the flash drive?” I ask.

The moment the question leaves my lips, his expression changes. He shrugs his broad shoulders as if the topic doesn’t interest him. “We’ll check what’s on it. No matter how clever he thought he was, I doubt he made any copies or had a backup plan before he came to meet you. The piece of shit was banking on you racing back into his arms.”

I chuckle at that, secretly hoping it’s true. “Because if he lied and someone else knows, we could be in big trouble,” I reply.

He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me closer. “You shouldn’t fill your pretty head with thoughts like that. I won’t let anything happen to you. And if there’s something on the drive that could end my father’s life—” He trails off, unease flickering briefly across his face. His gaze shifts behind me, then back to my eyes, where a soft, loving glint appears. “I’ve been thinking about something ever since we got back.”

“Yeah?”

His other hand moves to cradle my face, and he takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “We both have families that don’t give a shit about us. My mind keeps going back to the lengths my father went to ensure I wouldn’t let anyone into my heart, and honestly, I’m really worried about you, baby. I don’t trust him, and I know better than anyone how unpredictable he can be. So, what if we just… leave after the wedding?”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Leave? Where?”

“Bahamas. Mexico. Sri Lanka. You choose.”

I swallow. “What about your grandma?”

He smiles, a hint of smugness in his eyes. “We could bring her along, and I can buy her a house either near us or farther away. But knowing how much she dislikes traveling, I imagine she’ll stay here. There are countless possibilities, baby, and we can make something work if you decide to go through with it.”

For a moment, my mind conjures an image of us on an island, completely free from our families, our jobs, and all our responsibilities. Just us, in our little paradise, hidden from the world.

But then I think about my rescue center. They’d manage without me checking in; I could send money remotely. But leaving would mean depriving myself of the one good thing I’ve managed to build amid the chaos. All those years of hard work would vanish, erased in an instant. The business I fought to improve, built with blood, sweat, and tears—everything would be left behind.

And if so, despite how deeply we’re consumed by each other, we still need to direct our energy into something meaningful. Delilah’s words keep replaying in my mind—a haunting melody I can’t escape, along with the story West shared. We spent years simmering in silent resentment, hiding our anger beneath the surface. Now, though, it feels like the time has come to let it all out. To free ourselves from the shackles our family has imposed. To rebuild our empire from the wreckage.

To rise, together.

“Leaving is the easiest option,” I say. “And it would leave them unpunished.”

A spark of something new ignites in his eyes. “Unpunished, huh?” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, almost reverent tone, as if savoring both the word and the possibility. “You want to watch them burn, don’t you?”

“For everything your father did to you and for everything my own put me through, yes,” I admit. We spent years bound to lives we didn’t choose, and I won’t pretend I’m over it. My anger hasn’t gone away. “I want them to suffer. I want to serve justice, but on our own terms.”

I grip his hands, absorbing the warmth that radiates from his skin. I haven’t told him about my rescue center yet—I will, but only after we deal with the mess that’s been thrust upon us. I want to show him everything when our minds are clear, both of us free from all these burdens.

“I have something here,” I say quietly, moving my hands up and twirling the fabric of his shirt between my fingers. “Something I don’t want to leave behind. And I think I’ll soon be ready to show it to you.”

“Should I be scared?”

I roll my eyes playfully. “No. Or maybe. Depends on how you’ll take the situation.”

That damn perfect smile creeps back onto his features. “Whatever you say. Show me the rest of you, baby, and let’s set the fucking world ablaze.”