Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Bile rises up my gullet and burns my throat as I fight back the disgust I have fer this woman. She’s not a mother, she’s a lyin’ piece of shite.
“Are ye so desperate ta have a man in yer life that ye’ll abandon yer daughter, Orla?”
She doesn’t react. There’s no wince. There’s not even an ounce of guilt written on her face.
“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but—.” The arsehole who’s been quietly watchin’ the exchange tries to catch my attention.
Liftin’ my arm, I aim my gun at him. That shuts him up.
“If ye try ta talk ta me again, I’ll feckin’ shoot ye. I don’t give a shite who ye are,” I growl at him.
I don’t lower my weapon, even when he holds his hands up in surrender.
“Rebel,” Monster calls ta me, but I can’t bring myself ta look at him.
My grip on the gun is so tight my knuckles are white. I don’t want ta be this person. I have a daughter ta think of now.
“Don’t come near me again, Orla. I don’t want ye, or need ye, near my daughter,” I tell her as I finally bring myself ta look at the woman who’s decided a man is more important than her own child. As far as I’m concerned, Orla will never get ta see her daughter again. But that choice will be up ta Aine when she’s older.
After a long, silent pause, I lower the gun and step back from Orla. She watches me as if she doesn’t even know me. She’s a stranger ta me as well. If I were bein’ honest with myself, I am not entirely shocked at her choice. But I am hurtin’. I’m the one who has ta go back ta Aine and tell her her ma doesn’t want her anymore. Not that I’ll say it in those exact words. I’ll have ta lie ta her again.
“Ye’ll be a good Da,” Orla tells me then, and the confidence in her tone makes me laugh out loud.
“Aye,” I say. “I don’t have a choice. Do I? Ye’re the one makin’ me lie ta our daughter, tellin’ her ye’re dead. I’ll have ta explain her ma was taken away, and she’s never comin’ back. Because that’s the truth. The Orla I knew has been taken over by some cold-hearted bitch. Ye’re definitely not comin’ near our daughter again.”
Truth is, I’m not sure how I’m goin’ta explain this to Aine.
“Ye don’t have ta tell her that, Ronan.” Orla’s tone is filled with indignation, annoyance at my words, but I’m bein’ honest.
“The truth hurts, doesn’t it, Orla?” I smirk as I get a reaction out of her.
“You’ve no right to talk to my fiancée like that.” The smug bastard who I’m itchin’ ta shoot speaks up, but instead of ragin’ at him, I laugh. It’s a loud, boomin’ sound, and his mouth pops open in surprise.
“All I can tell ye, mate, is I feel sorry fer ye. When the next rich bastard comes into her life, she’ll walk away from ye too. She’s done it before, and she won’t stop now,” I inform him.
I realise now it wasn’t her husband who was the arsehole in the marriage, it was Orla. She blamed him fer not wantin’ Aine, but the intel Tye found on her ex, told a different story. One I didn’t want to believe until now. Tye discovered Paul was a rich arsehole, and it was only when he lost his fortune that Orla decided he wasn’t good enough fer her.
“Ronan, things don’t have ta—”
“Don’t you dare feckin’ tell me things don’t have ta be this way,” I hiss in her face as I point my finger right between her eyes. My hand is tremblin’ from the rage I’m feelin’, and I’m ready ta lose my shite. I’m want ta break somethin’ with my bare hands. “Ye chose this. Ye were the one who wanted this ta play out the way it has. Ye were never going’ta come back. I’m not sure what shite ye were goin’ta tell me. Maybe ye were goin’ta fake ye’re own death. Whatever ye were plannin’, I don’t give a shite.”
“I think it’s time you leave, mate,” the bastard says as he nears us, and I can’t keep my cool any longer.
With the butt of the gun, I slam it into his face, breakin’ his nose. Orla screams in shock, coverin’ her mouth with her hands as she pins me with a glare.
“I’m done,” I tell her before turnin’ on my heel and headin’ fer the door.
I hear her take a few steps towards me, the heels of her shoes clickin’ on the floor, but she doesn’t come after me. She doesn’t call out ta me. The man whose nose is now bleedin’ profusely is cursin’ at me, and I smile as we walk out of the house.