Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Lifting my glass, I nodded my chin toward him, a silent toast before downing the fiery liquid in one gulp. Setting my glass down on the table with a thud. He followed suit, taking it down like it was a glass of fucking water.
“Did you ever really love her?” I asked out of nowhere, catching him by surprise.
He lowered his eyebrows, confused.
I stood from my chair again, needing to get away from him. Since I found out the truth, I had distanced myself from him, spending very little time in his presence. Even sharing the air that he breathed made me fucking sick. I paced around the room, waiting for him to answer my question. Knowing I would never get an honest response.
That wasn’t how my father was made.
I stopped at his desk, running my fingers along the mahogany wood. Staring at the pictures of my mother and Amari in the corner, shoved away, like the truth.
“Is this where you made the call to seal my mother’s fate?” I sat down in his chair, putting my feet up on his desk. He watched my every move with nothing but a guarded stare. I lit a cigar, taking a few deep puffs, blowing precise smoke rings into the thick air. “So tell me. Did you murder her because she was having an affair with Roberto? Or because she was pregnant with his baby?”
“Hijo—”
I glared at him. “You lost the fucking right to call me that the day you murdered my mother and had me fucking watch. Not giving a fuck that Amari was there. Tell me, did it ever cross your mind that she could have been killed, too?”
“Mi familia lo es todo para mi,” he clenched out, “My family is everything to me.”
I reached into the pocket of my suit jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper I spent hours, even days, staring at. Memorizing every last goddamn word written. The edges so worn from my bleeding grasp.
I threw it at him. Landing in the space between us.
“I thought you didn’t get an autopsy. Isn’t that what you told us? That we didn’t need to get one? That she was a victim of retaliation on you? On us? Or do you not remember the fucking lies you tell anymore?”
He grimaced, still sitting where I left him at the table. “I would never hurt my wife. The mother of my children.”
“No, you just had someone else do it for you. Are we even your kids?”
“Get the fuck out of my office, Alejandro!” he roared, the vein on his forehead pulsating.
“She loved you. She gave you everything, old man. She cheated on you because you’re a miserable fuck, who treated her like shit. I’m surprised it took her that long. Kinda makes me wonder if Roberto was the only one. I don’t blame my mother at all. Life is full of disappointments, and you’re one of them.”
“You despise me, don't you? Is that what this is about?”
“You know, I probably would. If I gave you any thought at all. You know what comes to mind when I do think about you, though? My mother dying in my arms, fighting to fucking breathe. She didn’t say one goddamn word about you as she shook in my arms. You weren’t even a thought in her mind in the last minutes of her life. Like you didn’t even exist in her world. She did whisper his name though,” I lied, just to hurt him.
“Alejandro,” he coaxed, his mouth contorting, struggling to breathe. Sweat pooled at his temples as his now bloodshot eyes protruded out. His tan face quickly turned a reddish, blue hue, oxygen being cut off more and more. His chest heaved as he was trying to beg for help.
My help.
He wilted over in his chair, placing his head between his knees, clenching his chest with his right hand. Gasping for air that wasn't available for the taking. I watched with fascinated eyes, not moving an inch to help the son of a bitch.
“I wonder if she thought about him when she was with you?”
With wide eyes, he patted his hand against his chest. “Hijo, I think… I think… I’m having a heart attack,” he stuttered.
“I wonder if she ever wanted to call out his name when you were together?”
"You... know... nothing..." he drawled, gasping. Having a hard time getting his words out.
I didn't falter. “Picturing his face when she told you she loved you,” I viciously spewed.
“Mother... fucker. Who do you... think you are?” he questioned, dry heaving.
“I know one thing, she probably fucking hated you. Like mother, like daughter. Amari couldn’t get away from you fast enough. Is that why you had Mom murdered? Couldn’t handle that she found someone newer and younger, replacing you, you miserable fuck. Picture it, Roberto balls deep in your wife, in your house, in your bed, while you were off fucking people over,” I snidely chuckled.