Chapter 14
VICTOR
“Dude, wake up!” Enzo hissed, shrugging me awake.
I tried to lift my head from my soft pillow, but I’d drunk far too much whiskey last night, and it felt like it had weights on it.
“What’s up?” I asked, my mouth dry. I coughed and sat up, my head swimming.
The empty whiskey bottle laid on the floor beside the sofa, and my stomach rolled at the sight of it.
Jeez, I drank way too much last night. A full bottle of whiskey by the looks of it.
Something about your wife only agreeing to talk to you if you signed the divorce papers did that to you.
Then I heard it. The shattering of glass, and Enzo stiffened.
“What is that?” I rose to my feet, feeling more alert having heard the sound of someone smashing something. “Is that near the house?”
Fucking hell, if someone was trying to break into Enzo’s, they had a death wish. I only needed one excuse to knock the living shit out of some punk.
“I think it’s your truck.” Enzo winced.
“What the fuck?” I grunted, shoving my sneakers on, the laces left loose. I almost tripped on the way to the door but somehow righted myself before I unlocked it and yanked it open.
At first, I wasn’t sure what I was seeing. Clouds of smoke poured from the cab of my truck, and there, standing beside it, was Lila.
She was dressed in all black, her hair blowing around her in the wind and making her look like a super villain. The look on her face was chilling, like she was revelling in my disbelief.
I dragged my hands through my hair, unable to believe what I was seeing. She’d set fire to my fucking truck. She knew I needed it for work, that I kept valuable tools in it, but she didn’t give a fuck. The smoke billowed as the fire grew, and I almost fell to my knees.
Lila looked me in the eye and smiled,—fucking smiled—then walked away like she hadn’t just set fire to my truck.
“Lila! What the fuck!” I roared, chasing after her.
Lights were turning on in the surrounding houses; Lila just flipped me the bird.
“I’d call the fire department if I were you,” she called out, before climbing into her car.
I stood in the middle of the road as she drove away, her taillights disappearing as she took the corner.
She’s fucking crazy.
“I called the fire department,” Enzo said, appearing beside me. “But we better keep our distance, just in case she blows.”
“Blows?!” I whispered, backing away. “What the fuck is wrong with her?!”
Enzo shook his head and stared at the now blazing truck, his eyes wide. “She’s pissed, man.”
The sound of sirens filled the once-silent street. Neighbours were on their doorsteps now, the nosey fuckers, clutching dressing gowns around their bodies to ward off the chill.
“You okay man?” Enzo asked gently, resting his hand on my shoulder.
I whipped my head to him, my eyes wide. “No! She fucking torched my truck!”
“You fucked someone else,” Enzo reminded me. “In her eyes, you deserve this.”
The fire crew got to work, dragging their hoses to the remnants of the truck, spraying vigorously while calling out to one another.
My wife torched my truck, but Enzo was right.
I deserved this.
Would the insurance even pay out?
How would I get to work?
Shit!
I finally fell to my knees, watching as my truck burned furiously against the inky black sky.
Then my phone beeped in my pocket, and I dragged it out without looking. I knew it was Lila.
Lila: Maybe Cami could give you a ride to work?
And attached to the text was the video of me and Cami.
The sounds of us fucking greeted me as I swiped at it like a madman, refusing to listen to a fucking second of that shit.
I hadn’t even thought about Cami. I hadn’t read any of her texts or answered her calls, and I didn’t intend to. That was a part of my life I was leaving behind.
My phone beeped again.
Lila: Sign the papers.
My wife had lost it. She had fucking lost it. She’d had me escorted from her workplace when I’d tried to talk to her, had my mother and sister turn up when I’d gone to the house, changed the fucking locks, and then she’d torched my truck.
Is that enough revenge, Lila?
But part of me couldn’t help but admire the fuck out of her for defending herself like this. For showing how much our marriage meant to her, which had to mean something.
Right?
“Come inside. I’ll make us a coffee or something,” Enzo mumbled, scrubbing his face. “It’s three in the morning.”
Like I needed reminding. I had work in three hours and now had no way of getting there and no tools to speak of.
There was no way they’d survived that.
I couldn’t even lift myself to my feet; my knees sat in damp mud as I stared at the truck.
I did this to us.
The realisation wasn’t new, but it still hit me like a slap.
I’d had it all, and now I had a burnt-out truck and divorce papers to sign.
I didn’t know what Lila would do next if I didn’t sign the divorce papers, but it couldn't be any worse than this.
Could it?