42. Chapter 42
Chapter forty-two
Lina
The bell above the door chimes right before early Sunday closing, and something causes goosebumps to appear on my arms.
As soon as I notice him, my stomach drops. It’s David Allister.
For a moment, I look at him—disbelief giving way to something hotter, venomous. The fucking audacity. Of all the nerve.
“Lina,” he says, like we’re old acquaintances. “May I speak with you privately?”
Every instinct in me screams no. But I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.
“Fine,” I say flatly.
I round the corner of the counter and head to the front door. I step outside the shop, the evening air cool against my skin, and he follows. The door shuts behind us, the noise of the bakery muffled, leaving the two of us standing on the sidewalk.
He clears his throat. “I’m here about Cole.”
Cole?
“He’s made some mistakes,” David continues carefully. “But we’re trying to get him help. Rehab. Treatment,” he pauses, gauging my reaction. “His fiancée had their baby. A daughter.”
My jaw tightens.
“I think becoming a father could redirect his energy,” he says. “Give him purpose. I’m asking if you’d consider dropping the charges. Let us handle this privately.”
Unbelievable.
I let out a disbelieving laugh. “You want me to let him walk because you think he can be rehabilitated? You think a child will change him?”
His expression stiffens. “I think it’s a start.”
“The fact that you’re standing here asking me this tells me you still don’t get it,” I snap.
I gesture to my arms. The bruises. The scrapes. Yellow and blue blooming against my skin like evidence that refuses to fade.
“He hurt me,” I say. “Again. And this time, it’s not your responsibility to clean it up.”
Mr. Allister exhales, frustrated. “Lina, we can make this easier for everyone—“
“No,” I cut in. “You’ve made things easy for him his entire life. And look where that got us.” I again show him my wrists.
His eyes flick over my injuries, then away.
“You know,” I continue, my voice steady but lethal, “he should’ve gone to jail after the accident. The one that put me in the hospital. The one where I lost our baby. Your grandchild.”
His jaw clenches.
“I didn’t press charges then,” I say. “I let it go. I protected him, and you protected him.”
I step closer, refusing to shrink. “I won’t do that again.”
“This isn’t about punishment,” he insists. “It’s about family.”
“No,” I reply coldly. “This is about accountability. Something your son has never faced because you raised him to believe consequences were optional.”
His face hardens. “That’s unfair.”
“What’s unfair,” I say, “is asking me to forgive a man who terrorized me—who assaulted me—because you think a new baby magically fixes years of violence and entitlement.”
“A new life doesn’t erase old damage.”
A void develops between us.
“I’m not dropping the charges,” I say. “Not now. Not ever.”
I turn back toward the shop, my hands shaking—not with fear, but with the release of something long overdue.
“And if you ever come near me again,” I add, with my back turned, “make sure it’s with an apology—not another request to sacrifice myself so your family can stay comfortable.”
Something in me shifts. I feel charged.
I should stop. Alex told me not to push, to wait before we confront him.
But the words are already burning in my throat, and once they’re there, I can’t swallow them back.
I turn around and face him once more.
“Why do you want me dead?” I continue. “Why would you send someone to kill me?”
I search his face for cracks. Lies. Something rehearsed.
There’s nothing.
He looks genuinely bewildered.
“Lina,” he says, his brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”
“Please don’t act surprised, David. Your hitman told me the Allister’s sent him.”
David looks horrified.
“Are you telling me someone actually tried to kill you?”
“Yes.” The word disappears into the quiet night.
David stares at me, confusion etched across his face. The glow from the storefront catches the silver threaded through his hair as he blinks once. Then again.
His gaze flicks between me and the empty space around us, searching for something that isn’t there. An explanation. A missing piece. His brow creases deeper with every passing second, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle that refuses to fit together.
“When?”
“Last night. They came into my home with a gun. Luckily, my…boyfriend was there and stopped him.”
His mouth parts slightly. A question forming.
“And this person told you my family was responsible?”
“He said he was hired by my ex’s parents.”
A passing car hums down the street before disappearing around the corner. The silence that follows feels impossibly loud.
David lets out a disbelieving breath.
“Lina, that’s absurd.”
His response comes too quickly to be calculated. Too honest.
“I don’t know what to tell you except that I would never do such a thing.”
I fold my arms tightly across my chest. “Then why would he say it?”
“I have no idea.” His expression tightens.
“What would I possibly gain from harming you?”
I don’t give him an answer. The trust? Maybe. But even that feels thin.
David shakes his head. “You were good to Cole.”
There’s genuine sadness in his voice now. “Better than he deserved at times.”
I drop my eyes to the floor. “You don’t have to say that,” I tell him.
“I’m saying it because it’s true.”
The streetlight above us buzzes softly.
“I always hoped you’d find peace after the divorce,” he continues. “Happiness. Whatever that looked like for you.”
My stomach twists. Nothing about this feels like the man I imagined. He doesn’t feel like someone ordering my death.
“Then why wasn’t I allowed at Virginia’s funeral?” I ask quietly.
His head jerks back. “Allowed?” The confusion is immediate.
“Yes.”
“Lina, what are you talking about?”
I glare at him. “You didn’t want me there.”
His eyes widen. “That’s not true.” His answer comes instantly.
“I asked Elinor to make sure you had a place at that funeral.”
The words knock the air from my lungs. “What?”
“I was grateful you were with my mother during those last months. She cared deeply for you.”
My pulse begins to pound. “Elinor told me the family didn’t want me there,“ I say.
David goes completely still. As if the night holds its breath with us.
“I never said that. You are family. You meant the world to my mother,” he says.
Up until now, I believe him. Completely.
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Elinor told me you chose not to come. That…you didn’t want anything to do with us.”
“That’s not what happened,” I reply.
Understanding dawns on both of us at once. Clear and unavoidable.
David looks away toward the empty street, his expression troubled. As though he’s replaying years of conversations and finding new meaning in them. He exhales. A long, weary breath.
“I need to speak with my wife,” he says.
The words are nearly hushed. There’s weight in them—recognition, regret, and even shame taking shape on his face.
He views me then, and his voice softens. “I’ve always cared for you, Lina. Truly,” he exhales.
“And I want to thank you—for being kind to my mother. For being patient with my son when I know he didn’t deserve it.”
I swallow, emotion pressing up unexpectedly.
“I understand your reservations about Cole,” he continues. “I won’t push this any further. I’m truly sorry, Lina.”
Now I’m the one in disbelief. An apology? And a sincere one?
“I’m glad you’re doing well,” he says. “I mean that. And for what it’s worth…I’m happy for you.”
There’s no manipulation in his tone. No agenda. Just a quiet acknowledgment of the life I built after walking away from theirs.
David nods, then turns and walks toward his car. I watch him go as the weight of the conversation works its way beneath my skin.
That’s when I notice him.
Half-swallowed by shadow, Alex stands—watching. Leaning against a tree. Close enough to hear but not close enough to interrupt.
He didn’t intervene. He only listened and protected from afar.
Our eyes lock.
No words pass between us, but something does—understanding, reassurance, a silent I’ve got you.
Only then does Alex step forward, the darkness releasing him inch by inch.
I was never alone.