Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
"Santiago," he rasps.
The nurse holds up a cup of water for him, giving him a drink from the straw. I watch him struggle with the basic task, and it makes me uncomfortable in a way I did not expect. They told me he was recovering, regaining his strength every day. But if this is progress, I can't imagine how far he still has to go.
It would be so easy to kill him now. It would require little effort at all to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze while I demand the answers I seek. It would undoubtedly do the job, but it would bring me no pleasure. Not right now.
"Leave us," I tell the nurse.
She nods and leaves the room, shutting the door and sealing Eli into the room with his worst enemy.
"They tell me you control everything regarding my care." He sputters the words out through broken gasps. "That is why my family has not been to see me."
"Your family doesn't care," I answer him coldly.
He stares at me, blank. His face that of someone who is on their death bed, and I suppose in many ways, he still is.
"It hurts me to see you this way, son," he says. "Your heart has become so dark."
"I am not your son," I snarl. "I am a De La Rosa, and you aren't even worth the oxygen in this room."
A pained expression flashes in his eyes, or at least, that's what he'd like me to believe. I can't deny that Eli knows my weaknesses because he exploited them at every turn, pretending to be a friend. A father figure. But I won't be fooled again.
"The nurses tell me you married my daughter," he says quietly. "Is she... safe?"
I choke down the response I've waited years to give him. The plans I had made to destroy him. I had intended to tell him in detail of Ivy's suffering. Now I can't even consider it.
"She's the reason I'm here." I pace along the wall, trying to keep my calm. "I need to know where Abel would take her to hide her."
Eli doesn't reply, and when I glance at him, he appears confused. "If he took her into hiding, I'm sure he had his reasons."
"I'm not here to entertain your noble father act," I bite out. "It's too late for that now. You have failed your own family miserably. That much is obvious. But you have a chance to protect your daughter now. Tell me what I want to know so I can retrieve her before any real harm comes to her."
His eyes shine with emotion as he shakes his head. "I don't know where Abel would take her."
"I could choke the life out of you right now, and nobody would stop me." I stare through him. "Is that what you want?"
"Would that bring you peace?" he asks, catching me off guard.
My eyes move over his hunched frame as I shake my head in disgust.
"Tell. Me. Where. She. Is."
"I don't know, Santiago." His voice breaks. "I honestly don't know. Take me with you. We can find her together."
I slam my fist into the wall in frustration, howling like a madman. And then slowly, I pull myself together, turning back to face the man I despise more than anything.
"I'll drag Hazel out of hiding. I'll bring her before The Tribunal to pay for her desertion. What have you to say now?"
"You won't." His eyes are soft and too calm when they meet mine. "I know you won't, Santiago. Because you are better than that."
"You know nothing about me. You never did."
"I know what I can see before me," he replies. "A broken man whose anger has controlled his life for far too long. You have so much anger inside you, it's poisoning you."
“That anger was a gift," I remind him. "From you to me. And someday soon, I will repay the favor."
He frowns, and I turn for the door, his voice following me out and down the hall.
"I know who you really are, Santiago. You won't hurt my daughters."
* * *
The small, gray house in Oakdale blends in amongst all the others. It is not the first time I have visited, but it will be the first time I have stood on the doorstep.
I know every detail of her schedule. When she leaves each day. Where she goes. What groceries she buys, how often she fuels her car. There isn't a single thing I don't know. And as I count the time passing on my watch, I know in fifteen seconds, she will open the door, rushing out to her car to take her son to school.
I stand and wait. Moments later, there is a commotion on the other side of the door. Something clatters to the floor, and she curses. She yells for her son, telling him they have to go. The knob turns, and when the door opens, she spills out in a rush, nearly colliding with me.