Chapter 28
C H A P T E R2 8
Revenge à la Remington
Cade
The Present
“A re you going back to j-jail?”
I paused in the middle of brushing Olivia’s hair, glancing at her expression in the mirror of her baby pink vanity. It was crumpled and sad, her shoulders drooping.
“No, Livvy. I’m not going back to jail.”
“Good.” Her chin wobbled, but she gave me a smile. “I was s-scared, Cadie.”
Olivia was an eavesdropper, tiny and able to hide in places where the adults couldn’t find her. This morning, she hid under Uncle Vance’s office desk and overheard him and Aunt Julia discussing my predicament. Apparently, kids gossiped because somehow Olivia knew jail was a bad place. She burst into tears and begged them to save me. They had to reassure her that I was back and safely sleeping in my room to get her to stop crying.
“I didn’t mean to worry you.” I pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry.”
“I forgives you.”
I smiled. “ Forgive . And thank you. I’ll make it up to you. Next week we’ll watch a movie and I’ll take you to your favourite ice cream parlour. Deal?”
“And Joshy, too?”
“Yes. Joshy, too.”
She gave me a toothy grin in the mirror. “Deal.”
In general, Olivia wasn’t much of a talker, unless she was conversing with me. Her lack of speech raised Uncle Vance’s and Aunt Julia’s concerns, and led them to consult a child psychologist three years ago. They thought Olivia had trauma from having her status quo shifted. But her behaviour was deemed normal. She was just shy by nature.
There was also the fact that Olivia saw me as her guardian. I wasn’t just her cousin or adoptive brother. In her eyes, I was her mother and father figure as well. As long as I was there, her surroundings didn’t matter. Despite being mostly dependent on me, Olivia adjusted a lot better than I expected since the adoption. She’d come to accept Aunt Julia, Uncle Vance, and Josh as her family too. They spoiled and treated her like their own.
Every day I was grateful for them.
Sometimes, I felt like it was my parents who orchestrated the entire thing from above, ensuring that Olivia and I found a home that cherished us.
Finishing braiding Olivia’s hair, I tied a little bow at the tail. “All done, Livvy.”
“Thank you.” She turned around in her chair to give me a hug. This morning must have really spooked her—the possibility of losing me—and I understood why she needed to hold on longer than usual.
I hugged her back and gently patted her back. “You’re welcome. Did I do a good job?”
“The best!”
Every evening, my little sister demanded I do her hair. It was a daily ritual whenever I wasn’t occupied with urgent work. I knew Olivia wouldn’t be a kid forever and one day she may not need me—which was a scary thought—so I was making the best out of these moments.
When we pulled away, she mumbled, “I miss Ella.”
I sighed. “I miss Ella, too, kiddo.”
“Is she coming back?”
Early this afternoon, I drove to her place and dropped off some gifts.
I poured all my love into a letter and hoped it was enough to get through to her.
Because I didn’t think I could survive any longer without Ella.
“Yes.” I smiled at Olivia. “She’ll be back soon.”
Late into the evening, I strolled down the hallway to Uncle Vance’s office. There was an overdue conversation I needed to have with him. It wouldn’t be easy, but he deserved to hear the truth.
I knocked twice on the closed door.
“Come in,” he replied.
Entering his office always felt like walking into the lion’s den. The mood was dark and always felt a little predatory. He continuously remained on the edge of squandering any enemy who threatened his reign.
His mancave was adorned with black walls housing numerous paintings, a skylight ceiling, a mahogany bureau with pictures of our family and, behind his vintage throne, an entire wall encasing his coveted knives collection.
As South Side’s kingpin, Vance Remington was known for having quite the notorious reputation. You didn’t want to cross him. My uncle made killing look like a sport and was still ruthless at forty-five years old, the way he’d been two decades ago when he took over the family business.
Currently, he sat on his throne like a heedful monarch, playing with a switchblade between his scarred fingers, his Oxford-clad feet crossed and resting at the edge of his desk.
Uncle Vance’s sharp eyes watched me close his office door. “What can I help you with, son?”
I took a seat in one of the leather chairs before his desk. “I need to talk to you. Is this a bad time?”
Sensing the severity in my tone, he straightened his posture and smoothed a hand over his three-piece black suit. It was wrinkled after a long day, his tie discarded somewhere, and the top three buttons of his dress shirt open, showcasing the small pendant he wore around his neck. It was a gold square with all our initials engraved. “No, I just finished some paperwork for the new art gallery. I’ll need you and Josh to go over there next week and help with the incoming shipment.”
“Sounds good.” The incoming shipment would no doubt contain a few priceless paintings with pounds of cocaine strategically hidden within the packaging.
“Oh, before I forget.” He yanked open a drawer and threw the De la Croix gun in my direction. “They confiscated it, but Officer Tate gave it back.”
“Tate’s really out here doing the Lord’s work, eh? Sorry, I meant the Devil’s.”
Uncle Vance let loose a tired chuckle and the blade between his fingers did an impressive flip. “You can say that again.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked. “After you came to pick me up, I saw you exchanging heated words with some of the cops.”
“Everything is fine.” He cracked his knuckles. “Though I forgot to mention that I have a copy of your mugshot. I’ve framed it and now it’s sitting on my mantel.”
My head whipped towards the fireplace to our right and I barked out a short laugh. True enough, my mugshot sat like a proud trophy alongside other family photos. “No way. I can’t believe you actually kept it.”
“Of course I did.” He smirked proudly. “I keep all my children’s accomplishments.”
My children . He never failed to remind us—Olivia and me—that we were his in every way that mattered. My throat tightened before I whispered, “I know I don’t always say it, but you mean a lot to me, Uncle Vance. I want you to know that.”
I loved him and Aunt Julia like my own parents. They would never replace my mom and dad, but in a way, they were like my mom and dad.
The hard-layer that usually lacquered his stony features gentled and he whispered back, “I know, Cade. And I want you to know that me and Julia will always be there for you. No matter what. Understood?”
I nodded.
He placed the blade on the desk and perched forward on his elbows, his fingers forming a makeshift bench beneath his chin. “If this is about Initiation Night, Julia and I aren’t mad. Was it reckless? Yes. But you’re young and mistakes happen. I do not hold it against you. But swear to me that you’ll be more vigilant moving forward.”
“I will.” Uncle Vance knew I was always careful. Yesterday was my first slip-up. “But I’m not here to talk about Initiation Night—”
“Wait.” He raised his hand and appeared horrified for a second. “If this is regarding your romantic troubles, I will advise you to see Julia instead. She’ll have a better game plan on wooing your ex-girlfriend.”
My jaw slackened. Did the entirety of the household know I was pinning after Ella?
“Yes, you’re quite obvious,” he said dryly. “We all know about your late nights where you drive around the city, searching for—sorry, I meant stalking—Ella. You reek of obsession, son.”
“I-I’m not stalking her,” I stammered, a bit flustered.
Uncle Vance deadpanned, “Please, I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Okay, so maybe there were some times where I followed her closely, making sure she got home after a night out with her friends.
“You can’t judge me.” I threw him a pointed look as I reached for the tray on his desk containing a decanter and crystal tumblers. I hadn’t drunk a drop of alcohol in over three months. But I felt safe enough in Uncle Vance’s presence. I poured myself two fingers of whiskey and let go of one more demon. “Aunt Julia said you were unbearable before you both got married. Obsessed, possessive, and jealous.”
In fact, he still was the same where Aunt Julia was concerned. It was a trait the Remington men owned. Alongside loving their significant others until the end of time.
“That is true. I do love my wife very much. Actually, I killed the man she was supposed to marry so I could have her.”
I choked on my sip of whiskey with the casualness of his statement. “I—You know what? I won’t even ask you to elaborate.”
“Good, because I won’t,” he tsked. “Now the longer you keep me here, the less time I have with my wife. So tell me what business you’d like to discuss?”
I drained my whiskey like a shot. Then my eyes roamed to the fireplace again. Over the mantle, there was another picture frame housing a photo of Uncle Vance and my mom. Vera Remington looked happy, healthy, and vibrant. The smile and gown she wore was a reflection of her upper-class upbringing. She’d been the depiction of a real-life Canadian princess.
Seeing her smiling face, I heard Mom’s timeless voice from my memories. The same encouraging lilt when she taught me to be brave, to speak my mind, to do right by me and others. She was always there like a shadow, supporting me even when I didn’t believe in myself. “You can do anything you want if you just put your heart and mind to it, lovebug” she’d say.
Finally finding the courage I needed, I addressed my uncle, “I know these last few months I’ve been…different. Everyone noticed it. You, Aunt Julia, and Josh all tried to ask me on multiple occasions if I was okay. I said yes, but I was lying.”
“I assumed it had to do with your breakup. We didn’t want to push you too hard. I figured you’d talk to us when you were ready.”
“You’re not wrong. The breakup was a part of it, but losing Ella isn’t the only thing that changed me.”
His eyes narrowed, tension coiling deep in his muscles. “Go on.”
I swallowed thickly. “The night of Josh’s birthday party, when you and Aunt Julia were away for the weekend, I…I was drugged and physically assaulted by four guys.”
The climate in the room turned stormy, borderline suffocating with the bitterness of my truth. The flames in the fireplace crackled loudly, the blade sitting on the desk fell to the floor, and Uncle Vance’s breathing turned uneven.
“What did you say?” he asked low, clipped.
“You heard me right.”
The last time I saw Uncle Vance’s expression this dark and volatile was when he came to see me at the hospital, after Julius’s attack. It was my first encounter with such stark anger—and one that wasn’t directed at me but for me.
“Tell me everything,” he bit out with a growl. “Every. Fucking. Thing. Down to the last detail.”
I avoided his gaze while telling him the entire situation from beginning to end. Waiting for Ella at the party, getting accosted by one masked man who roofied my drink, going to my room under the impression of meeting Ella…When I got to the part where Darla and my crew saved me before the four masked men could drag me away, Uncle Vance looked seconds from exploding.
“Soon enough, Dr. Smith arrived and handled the situation discreetly, away from the prying eyes of those attending the party. Thankfully, I had already vomited most of the drug. After my treatment, he instructed me to rest as much as possible. The next day, Josh and I went through the security footage. None of the four individuals could be identified,” I concluded. “The only people who know about this situation are my friends and Josh, who swore that he wouldn’t tell you or Aunt Julia until I was ready to talk.”
The silence after my words was packed with tension.
“My first question to you,” Uncle Vance finally started in a menacing tone, piercing me with his blue eyes that were identical to mine. “Is why the fuck did you not tell me this before?”
My head hung in shame. “I was embarrassed at what happened to me. It was perhaps the most humiliating moment of my life. I didn’t want you to know unless it was necessary.”
And with what happened at Initiation Night, I knew the elephant in the room couldn’t be ignored any longer.
I expected Uncle Vance to yell at me.
Instead, something close to sorrow blanketed his features.
“Don’t,” I pleaded. “I don’t want your pity.”
Uncle Vance shook his head. He stood up and came to sit in the chair next to mine. I hated the way he was looking at me—like I was that same broken teenage boy confined to a hospital bed. Even though I wasn’t anymore.
For three years, I morphed myself into the version I was today. A loyal soldier. A powerful fighter. An heir fitting of ruling his kingdom in the underworld.
I was tougher, stronger, and more resilient than ever.
I felt untouchable and invincible for so long, reigning alongside my family in the South Side, that being outnumbered and defenseless stripped away a part of my armour—my identity —as the fixer.
What happened the night of the party emasculated me.
Uncle Vance squeezed my shoulder. “Cade, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. What happened to you was not your fault. You were a victim.”
“That’s what I hate,” I choked out. “I’ve never been a victim. Not since…”
Not since I lost the fight against Julius. It was the last time I succumbed to another’s will. It was a shitty feeling and I wasn’t fond of relieving anything remotely similar.
“I don’t have many regrets, Cade, but I do regret not taking you in the moment Vera and Ronan passed away,” he said gravely. I’d always suspected that was the case, but hearing it aloud fortified it. “Your mom wanted you to have a normal life. Julia and I thought it was best to honour her wish. We figured you’d be safe living with Julius, away from our violent world. But had we known the sick fuck would do what he did, I’d have never allowed you or Olivia to live with him. Not for a single second.”
“I know, and I understand your reasoning. I don’t fault you for it.” I cleared my throat. “Thank you for listening to me.”
“Thank you for feeling brave enough to tell me. Though I wish you’d come to me sooner so I could’ve helped you.” He cupped the side of my head in a fatherly gesture before tugging me into his arms. I hesitantly rested my forehead against his shoulder. We weren’t huggers, therefore it felt awkward at first. But with every passing second, I relaxed, finding comfort in his strength. The last person I hugged like this was my own dad. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”
I smiled. “A failure?”
He kissed my head and his arms trembled slightly, like the emotions in his frame were too much to contain. “I see my younger self. A little arrogant, a little cocky, a little guarded, but loyal to a fault. The world has a hard time understanding individuals like us. You’re soft with the right people, tough with the rest, and do not take anyone’s shit. You act like nothing fazes you, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth, isn’t it? When you allow yourself to feel and self-reflect, every flaw and wound hurts too much. So you hide it until it doesn’t hurt. One thing I’ve learned as I’ve grown older? It’s okay to seek help and depend on your loved ones. It doesn’t make you weak or pathetic. There’s no judgement here, Cade. Even the strongest people can crumble. It’s not about how many times you break down. It’s about how you build yourself back up from those broken pieces.”
He was right. It’s better I learned this lesson now rather than later. If I allowed myself the grace to acknowledge my pain, I’d be able to power through and rebuild myself stronger than before.
“I appreciate it, Uncle Vance. I needed to hear that.”
“Promise you’ll come to me in the future when you have problems. I swore to protect you and Olivia from the minute I brought you both into my home. I need to know what’s going on in order to keep you safe. You’re my son, too.” His Adam’s apple rifled up and down with a rough swallow. “I know you haven’t always had it easy, but you have people who love you—people you can depend on. You don’t need to hide your pain anymore. Let Julia and I be there for you. It’s what Vera and Ronan would have wanted, too.”
“I promise,” I said hoarsely. “I will.”
“Good.” He stood up and adjusted his diamond cufflinks. “Now let me talk to Josh and run through this security footage. I also want to question every guard who was on duty that night and figure out what the fuck they were up to when this whole thing transpired.”
“All three guards who were supposed to be at the gates were found with syringes in their necks,” I said. “They were made indisposed at the right time.”
“Fuck,” Vance muttered. “Regardless, we’re going to find the men who did this to you and make them pay.”
I stood up, too. “I have a request.”
Uncle Vance poured himself some whiskey, arching a brow. “What?”
“When we figure out who they are, let me handle the situation myself. I want to deliver the killing blow.”
“Of course you do, my little fixer.” He grinned wolfishly and sipped his whiskey. “But you won’t deprive Josh and me of our fun. We’ll participate in the carnage. And if I’m in the mood, I might display their blood splatters on a canvas at our next art exhibition.”
I laughed. Goddamn. This man really was nuts. “Sounds good to me.”
“Get some rest, kiddo. You’ve had an exhausting day.”
I turned to leave but paused for a moment. The thought of carnage and blood splatters reminded me of something. “What ever happened to Julius? I heard he died in jail, but the details were unclear.”
“Oh, I killed him.”
Well, fuck. My eyes widened. I had my suspicions. But I was still shocked. “Why?”
Uncle Vance picked up his knife again, tossing the blade between his fingers. “Simple. He put his hands on you, so I put my hands on him. As a final lesson.”
“And what lesson is that?”
He fixed me with a levelled gaze. “Don’t ever touch my family.”
The most important lesson any enemy of ours should know.
“Thank you again for everything you’ve done for me. It means a lot…Dad.”
The smile that broke over his face was almost blinding. Josh and Olivia called him dad. Uncle Vance had probably, secretly, wanted me to call him that too, even though we knew the title belonged to another. But he was like a dad to me and deserved to hear it. I was lucky to have been blessed in this life with two remarkable father figures.
“You’re welcome, Cade,” he said warmly, watching me walk to his door. “Where are you going?”
“To find Aunt Julia so I can ‘woo my ex-girlfriend’.”
His throaty laughter was the last thing I heard on my way out.
As I ascended the grand staircase, my phone—which I retrieved from the Hills this morning—buzzed with a text. I unlocked it and stared at my wallpaper for a few seconds, soaking in Ella’s face. It was a picture I took a year ago when we finished racing one summer night. She sat astride her motorcycle, helmet tucked under her arm, head thrown back in laughter over something I said. She’d looked so pretty, wild, and reckless. I’d needed to immortalize the moment forever.
Fuck, I adored this girl so much.
I opened my recent text from Josh.
I did some digging today and found the girl’s name. — Josh
What girl? —Cade
You know, the one that was in the room with you… —Josh
Ah. That girl. I was nervous to speak to her, but filled with anticipation at the thought of potentially getting some real answers.
Continuing my ascent, I texted him back.
What’s her name? —Cade
Mabel Garcia. She’s a year younger than us. Senior in high school. I already contacted her. She’s willing to meet with you tomorrow to talk. —Josh