Chapter 20
Twenty
T he weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, each syllable a sharp blade cutting through my confusion.
“A life for a life,” he repeats, his voice straining with emotion.
My mind races as I try to make sense of his cryptic statement. My tongue is dry and thick, like a desert parched by the sun, as I struggle to comprehend everything that is happening.
Kenzo’s face is twisted with pain, his haunted gaze sending shivers down my spine. And then his mother appears, gliding into the room with an air of regal authority.
“Tell her,” her voice is strong, demanding. “She deserves to know why she was forced to marry you. It should never have been kept from her in the first place.”
When she reaches him, they speak in hushed tones, and I can’t help but feel sick to my stomach. There is something dark and unsettling lurking beneath the surface of their conversation.
I never deluded myself into thinking Kenzo married me out of love. No, it was a strategic move for both our families—a way to gain power and influence. And now, as I stand before them, I can’t help but wonder what other secrets are being kept from me.
“ Okaasan .” There is a pleading lilt to his voice I’ve never heard before. “Konna koto wa shinaide kudasai. Sore wa kanojo o hakai surudeshou.”
I didn’t grow up learning to be the perfect wife for Kenzo without learning to speak Japanese. Sort of. Don’t do this. It will destroy her.
“Just tell me,” I plead with him. “Nothing will be worse than not knowing.”
“Firecracker,” he breathes. “Not knowing will save you so much pain.”
“Or I could end up spending the rest of my life creating the worst kind of scenarios in my head,” I point out. “I’d drive myself crazy with the what-ifs every single day.”
Kenzo’s chest rises and falls in a deep breath, his eyes holding something unfamiliar. It could be guilt, or perhaps sorrow. It’s jarring to see him so shaken when he’s become the steady rock in my life. The one who remains firm against any storm.
“Not many know this,” he begins, his voice low and heavy with emotion that stirs my heart with aching empathy. “But I had a brother. Haruto was his name, and he was a few years older than me. Everything I have now was meant to be his.”
My mind reels at this revelation. How did I not know about Kenzo’s brother? There has never been a mention of him in any family photos or memories.
“You weren’t even born yet, and I was just a baby when it happened,” Kenzo continues, lost in memories as he speaks. “Your mother was driving home from the country club, drunk beyond the legal limit.”
My heart plummets with dread.
Please don’t let this go where I think it’s going .
“Haruto’s nanny who was driving.” He sighs deeply. “Your mother crashed into them, hitting the side of their car. She walked away unscathed, while Haruto died on impact. Your parents tried to cover it up, but they didn’t realize who they were messing with.”
The Mafia.
“Haruto’s father stormed into our home.” My gaze flickers to my father, who sits hunched over with his elbows on his knees. “He wanted revenge for his son’s death, but when I told him about your mother’s condition…”
He couldn’t kill her because she was pregnant with me.
“At the time, the Yakuza was under the control of Kenzo’s father,” Megumi interjects. “But there were other families involved as well. Haruto was meant to be the one to unite them all under one rule. They called for your mother’s blood, not caring that she was carrying a child. In their eyes, it was fitting for her to die with a child in her womb, just like Haruto and his nanny did.”
“But my father wasn’t that kind of man,” Kenzo whispers. “Instead, he forced your mother into rehab and had them sign a contract stating they would raise you until you turned eighteen. And then…”
“I would marry you,” I barely manage to breathe out the words, my heart heavy with the weight of this truth.
Kenzo nods his head solemnly.
Tears and hiccups rack my father’s body as he tries to choke out his confession. “You must understand, Evaline, your mother and I never wanted children. That day, she was drunk because she had just found out she was pregnant. After years of being told she could never have a child…it was too much for her.”
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I struggle to process his words.
“That’s not an excuse,” I say bitterly.
He nods, the shame evident on his face. “You’re right. It’s not. Your mother thought that if she drank enough, maybe she would miscarry. The thought of having a child disgusted her.”
His words cut through me like a knife, each one causing more pain than the last.
“In many ways, I think she resented being forced to raise you,” he continues, his voice heavy with regret. “Kenzo’s father kept a close watch on us, making sure your mother didn’t harm you in any way. And then we found out…you weren’t the only one.”
Not the only one?
“You were born a twin, Evaline,” he reveals, and suddenly, everything makes sense. “I was so surprised when the doctor brought both of you out wrapped in pink blankets. We took you home, and your mother seemed to be doing better with the help of a nurse.
“But then…” His voice trails off, filled with sorrow and anguish. “I had only been gone for an hour. Your mother told the nurse she wanted to give you girls a bath. You were about one year old at the time, still so small and innocent.”
My stomach churns as he continues with his devastating story.
“When I came back into the house, all I could hear was screaming.” He swallows hard, fighting back another sob. “The nurse was dead in the playroom, and your mother…she was holding you beneath the water. Your sister…she was already gone.” A pained cry escapes him. “But I managed to save you. Just you.”
There are too many thoughts pinging around in my brain for me to focus on everything they are telling me. What does any of this have to do with the men who shot up the wedding? Why the sudden confession? How is this information relevant and why bother telling me at all? It stings. I can’t deny that. Knowing that my own mother tried to drown me, knowing she succeeded with my twin sister…It hurts, but what does that have to do with right here and now? Unless…
“Do you think she has something to do with it all?” I ask, turning to Kenzo, hoping he’ll give me an honest answer. “Sure, she’s a bit…much, but hiring someone to kidnap me? Why?”
“We aren’t for sure,” Kenzo says, taking a step toward me. He places his hands on my shoulders and rubs soothing circles with his thumbs. “But there have been several instances that make us question whether or not she’s had anything to do with it.”
Several instances?
“Like what?”
“The night you went to work at the strip club,” he says. “You were supposed to be just bartending, right?” I nod, surprised he knows that. “Your boss, Berty, was paid to put you up on stage, and when you were done with your shift, he was paid to rape you.”
Kenzo’s strong arms catch me as my knees give out. He holds me tight to his chest, whispering soothing words in my ear as he rubs his hands up and down my back. “Berty’s contact had a New Orleans phone number.”
“Why, though?” My chin quivers as I look to my father. “What would she gain from any of it?”
My father runs a hand down his tired face as he lets out a breath. “We aren’t doing all that well,” he admits. “Contracts are drying up, and your mother spends money like it is going out of style. Now that you’re married to Kenzo, the payments for caring for you stopped. We were living off that income.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“We think your mother made a deal with someone else. For marriage. Or maybe she was planning on selling you on the market.” Kenzo’s voice turns cold. “She thought that if I knew you weren’t a virgin, I wouldn’t be interested, and when that didn’t work, she needed to try something else.”
No, this can’t be right. My mother is a lot of things, but to do something like sell her own daughter for money? It seems impossible, absurd even. But the look in everyone’s eyes tells me they are serious. A chill runs down my spine, and my brain is short-circuiting from everything that has come to light in the last half hour.
Why tune into Days of Our Lives when I’m living it, right here and now? Daytime television has nothing on my life.
“That…she wouldn’t…”
But deep in my heart, I know that what they are saying has to be true.