Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
We ate in silence for a while, his eyes on me most of the time, as if waiting for all the questions to start.
“How’s Jeremiah?”
“He’ll live.”
“And your mines?”
“Backlogged. But we’ll get it figured out.”
More silence.
I swirled my glass before I made my move. “Half brother, huh? Which parent do you share?”
He took his time chewing his bite, his eyes studying me. “Father.”
“You don’t look that similar, but I guess I can see it. You have the same eyes.”
“A gift from our father.”
“His last name isn’t Beaufort.”
“I took my mother’s name.” His eyes were down, his fork absentmindedly stirring his food around. The second his mother was mentioned, he seemed to lose his appetite.
“When she died, your father remarried?”
“Yes.” His eyes lifted to mine.
“Was he the one who killed her?”
Still as a mountain, he stared at me. He was cold, not moving, not even breathing. But then he answered. “No. But he’s responsible, nonetheless.”
Finally, I got to look behind the curtain. “What happened?”
“His line of business was dangerous. He was aware of that fact, aware of the threats against his family, but that didn’t stop him. They came to our home when he was gone. Middle of the night. I was just three years old at the time, so she hid me in the closet and told me to cover my eyes until she came back for me.” His eyes drifted away, looking at the estate behind me. “She never did. I kept my hands over my eyes, but that didn’t stop me from hearing everything.”
“Oh my god…”
“They raped her first. Then they stabbed her to death.” He said it all matter-of-factly, as if he’d gone numb a long time ago. “When they couldn’t find me, they assumed I was with the nanny and left.”
Now I was sick, so sick I couldn’t eat another bite. “Cauldron…” I didn’t know what to say other than sorry a million times. “I’m so sorry.” Cancer took my mother, and I was so angry. It was so unfair, watching her die far too young. I was left alone, legally an adult but still a child. But this…this was something else.
His expression remained impassive as if I hadn’t said anything.
Every aspect of his character made perfect sense now. He preferred whores to lovers because he didn’t have to feel anything. He didn’t hesitate to shoot me because violence against women was perfectly normal to him. His constant anger…was like a second skin.
“He had an odd way of showing it…but he genuinely loved my mother. The loss hit him hard. He didn’t remarry intentionally, but he knocked up a woman and thought marrying her was the right decision. Hence, Grave.”
I listened to every beat of the story, afraid if I interrupted him, I would never hear the full tale.
“My father came to love Grave and his mother, but I was always the favorite. Neither one of them liked it. I heard them fight in their bedroom sometimes, where his wife would insist that he preferred me to her son—and he fully admitted it. As time went on, their resentment grew. The only time Grave and I got along was when we were young. But after that, our irritation for each other was palpable.”
I knew something more had happened, something caused their deep-seated rift.
“They tried to get me killed. Grave insists it was her plot, but he was still aware of the scheme. She underestimated me, so it backfired in her face.”
“What did your father say?”
“He was upset at first, but then he bought into her lies. It was an accident. A misunderstanding. No ill intent. That was when I abandoned the family surname and took my mother’s. I told my father to fuck off and never spoke to him again.” The story concluded when he grabbed his glass and took a drink. He’d relayed a story so full of malice with a stone-cold face.
I didn’t know what to say…other than I was sorry again.
He grabbed his fork and took a few more bites of his food.
My appetite was long gone. “I guess she wanted Grave to inherit his fortune?”
“Yes. And to take over the business.”
“What kind of business is he in?”
He looked at me across the table.
“Drugs? Prostitution?”
“Human trafficking.”
“Like…sex trafficking?” Grave gave no indication he captured innocent women and forced them into a fate worse than death.
“No. Totally different.”
“Then what is human trafficking?”
He continued to eat. “You really want to know? I promise you don’t.”
I took a couple breaths, meeting his steely gaze. “I do.”
He gave a quiet sigh before he set down his fork. “He sells organs on the black market.”
“Organs?” I asked in complete confusion. “As in…bodily organs?”
“Yes.”
My blood turned ice-cold. “For…what reason?”
“Mostly transplants. But some people like organs for other reasons.”
“Transplants?” I asked. “Like heart transplants?”
“Hearts, kidneys, lungs, everything. The recipient list can be long, and it’s easy to be excluded from it altogether. A lifelong smoker is banned from a lung transplant because the damage was self-inflicted. This is a way to get around that.”