Chapter Fifty-One
Huxley
I return home to shower and change. The clothes remain stiff from Grace’s blood. I throw them into a bag to be burned. The shirt used to be my favorite, but not anymore. I’ll never get the image of the coppery stain out of my head. Or how quickly the blood flowed out of her.
I almost lost her. I won’t be making the same mistake again.
When I reach Nelson’s mansion, I’m fully clothed in a black three-piece bespoke suit and carrying the slim onyx cane every Huxley gets when we are born. The platinum knob has the coat of arms of the Huxleys, each wolf’s eye set off with a pigeon’s-blood ruby. On the side of the cane glints PIETAS ET UNITAS etched in silver. I’ve rarely pulled it out of its case in the closet, but then the world hasn’t really given me a reason to…until now.
Despite the late hour, every window in Nelson’s home blazes with light. Andreas’s Maybach crouches on the dark driveway like a wounded beast. My jaw tightens. The bastard never came to the hospital. Grace is his granddaughter, too.
I open the door and step inside. There’s no staff around, but then, Nelson and Karie seem to believe that as long as they show their true colors selectively, their reputation will remain intact.
As I get closer to the living room, I can hear raised voices. I slow my pace to hear what they plan to do to cover their ass.
“You have to help me!” Nelson’s plea has a tinge of desperation.
“How? You’ve shamed me, Nelson Emmanuel Webber. I couldn’t join the Huxleys. I had to wait around the corner like some stalker and eavesdrop on the doctor informing them of Grace’s condition!” Andreas thunders. “How am I going to face Catalina? No, no, forget her. How am I going to face Jeremiah on Monday when I go into the office? Or Prescott? How about Ares and the rest?”
“Why should you be worried? You didn’t do anything,” Karie says. “Grace just slipped.”
“ Slipped ?” Andreas says. “That’s not what I heard. Your idiot son pushed her!”
“I was just shooing a fly,” Mick says.
“Can you testify to that under oath, inside a courtroom?” Andreas demands.
“Wait, what do you mean?” Karie says.
“Do you honestly think the Huxleys will let this go? They live their family motto!” I can tell from the tone of voice that Andreas is seething.
“But Huxley Lasker doesn’t want to be part of his family! Look how he refused to join the firm,” Nelson points out.
“He still has the Huxley cane! And no matter how she grouses in public, Catalina adores that boy, and Grace as well, because she is now a Huxley through marriage ! You amoral, self-centered imbeciles !”
“It’s just my word against hers,” Mick scoffs. “And who’s more credible? I’m the DA.”
I’ve heard enough . “Ah yes. Credibility.” I walk into the room, twirling my cane casually.
Mick brims with smug defiance, and Nelson and Karie are wary. But Andreas takes in the sight of my cane, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he pales. He knows what this means, despite my outwardly calm mien.
“How is Grace doing? I wanted to stop by, but I’ve been busy at work,” Nelson says quickly.
“A bit late to ask, isn’t it?” My eyes slide over to Andreas, and the corners of my lips lift. “All that fuss to cement our family ties, only to destroy them. What a waste, eh?”
Andreas and Nelson frown, the former in trepidation, the latter likely wondering how he’s going to pull his family out of this mess.
“Huxley.” Karie gives me her typical fake smile. “I don’t know what you think happened—”
“I saw what happened, Karie. I carried my wife out, remember?”
She shuts up.
“So you saw her slip,” Mick says shamelessly.
“Did she slip?” The rage in my heart no longer burns. It’s so arctic now, even my skull feels frigid. “Let’s go see where it happened. It might jog my memory.”
Mick hesitates.
“You're the DA, right? Isn’t that what you do when you have a witness whose details seem a bit muddled?” I ask with a honeyed smile.
He smiles back in relief. “Of course.”
He and I go to the long staircase.
“Here.” He gestures. “Better?”
I look down. The floor has been wiped clean, leaving nothing but sparkling marble. They might’ve been able to clean up the blood, but not their crime against my wife.
“Hmm. Why don’t we go up to where she slipped?” I say.
“Yeah, sure.” He and I walk together.
I count each step. One… Two… Three…
And with each number, my mind conjures the image of my wife’s delicate body hitting the edges, her skin tearing, more and more bruises appearing until a bone in her forearm fractures. The icy anger in my chest swells until it feels like my heart will burst with wrath.
The doctor said she was lucky. The one who’s really lucky is Mick, because if she’d been permanently injured, I would’ve broken his neck.
We reach the top of the stairs. Twenty steps total. I inhale deeply, rein in the fury. It’s not time yet.
“Just between you and me,” Mick begins, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I know you never wanted the baby. So. It’s like an at-home abortion.” He sniffs. “You’re welcome.”
Oh, you motherfucker . “Mick.” I clap my hand on his shoulder. “It’s only an abortion if the baby is unwanted. Otherwise, it’s murder.”
Shock flares in his beady eyes. “Don’t tell me you want the thing! You had to marry Grace rather than Viv because of that clump of cells. That ‘baby’ was just an indiscretion, nothing more, just like Grace was an indiscretion my father wishes he could erase.”
I cast my gaze at a spot behind him. “Ooh, a fly!”
“What?” He turns his head.
I shove him, putting a foot out to catch his ankle—and let go of the reins on my rage.
“Fuck! Ack!” Mick screams as he tumbles down the stairs. I watch him cover his head as he rolls and spins down the steps. How unfair that he gets to avoid a concussion when my wife got one protecting our child?
I stroll down. I thought watching him suffer like Grace had might be satisfying, but it isn’t. He’s bigger and stronger. Doesn’t look like anything is broken. He isn’t even lying in his own blood.
“Fucking asshole!” he yells from the bottom of the stairs.
Definitely nothing broken. I swing my cane.
He raises his arm, screaming even before the cane connects with a loud thwack .
What a pussy. This fucking weasel dared to touch my wife and hurt her.
I swing again and again, counting in my head. I’m a fair man. I won’t strike more than twenty times—one for each step.
“Oh my God! Stop it! You’re going to kill him!” Karie screams.
“Stop! I’ll do anything!” Nelson pleads.
But neither of them is brave enough to come forward and physically shield their son with their own body.
Eight… Nine… There is a crack , and I feel the bones in his forearm go.
“Mom! Dad! Do something!” Mick screams, spittle dripping from his mouth.
“Mommy and Daddy aren’t coming to your rescue, Mick,” I taunt him darkly.
“Fuck! Augh!” He pulls his head down, trying to make himself as small a target as possible. He’s probably hoping I’ll tire myself out.
I’m not even winded. I’ve chased down balls playing tennis with Sebastian, who doesn’t believe in friendly competition, just winning. Smacking a more or less immobile target is piece of cake. “What’s the matter, scumbag? I’m just erasing your parents’ indiscretion . I’m sure the entire family wishes you’d never been born.”
“This is battery!” he shouts. “I’ll press charges. Your ass is going to jail!”
“Do it.” Another smack.
“No one’s gonna protect you,” he tries to threaten, but the slobbery delivery ruins the impact.
“I don’t need anybody’s protection. I can protect myself. Can you?” I hit him again. Something else—not my cane—cracks.
Mick screams in pain. The cocky insolence in his usually smarmy face shatters as he realizes his parents aren’t going to put themselves in danger for him. He looks to Andreas, who turns away in disgust.
“I’m going to make sure you pay for what you’ve done. And I’m going to sue you until you have nothing left to your name.”
“Who’s gonna do it?” He can barely get the words out.
I straighten. I’m at fifteen, but if I hit him more, he might just die. That won’t do. I’ll save the five for later.
“I can think of a few people. But if nobody will take the case…” I flash him my friendliest smile. “Congratulations! You’ll have done something none of my family was able to do. I’ll pass the bar and deal with you myself.”