Page 122 of The Dearly Departed

Is there any room in this house that isn’t under surveillance?

"She wants to marry you," Gerald said, positively gleeful in his response. "Can you believe that? That little two-timing slut wants to leave her fiancé for you, the freak in the mask. She doesn’t even know what you look like!"

He’d been watching. He’d been listening. He knew she wanted to be with me instead. And if he already knew, then what did it hurt to present a question? What was the worst thing that could happen?

"Is what she said true?" I asked, dropping the folder onto the coffee table to look up at him. "Is the whole point of this fucking arranged marriage just to keep your shitty bloodline going and to solidify your position on this insane family tree?"

He considered the question, like he wasn’t quite sure he should answer, but then he nodded. "Partly, yes. And it's not just my family tree either, by the by. It's my brother's as well. The fate that was handed to him was absolute bullshit."

"I didn't know you had a brother," I said, showing him a little of that empathy Leonard had always talked about. "I'm sorry to hear what happened to him."

Gerald seemed taken aback by my condolences. He looked up at me, his eyes narrowed with suspicion, as if it was impossible for me to feel anything but hatred toward him.

"Thank you, my boy. I appreciate that," he finally replied, seeming unsure of the words, even as he said them. "We weren't very close early on. We had different mothers, and we didn’t really know each other. But eventually, we started to do business together, and we became friends. He didn't deserve to die."

I had nothing to say to that. I hadn’t known the man, so I couldn't say one way or another what he deserved. However, if he had been anything like my father, then I’d say he’d deserved everything he got. But I could appreciate the friendship and bond between brothers, and for that, I nodded.

Gerald cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Anyway, to put a stop to any questions regarding Analise's little theory—that I would’ve entertained the idea of setting the two of you up—the answer is no. So, get that idea out of your head."

"Why not?" I asked, cold and bitter.

He smiled, tipping his head to consider me for a moment, his eyes roving over my body and toward my hidden face. "Well, since you asked so nicely, I don’t think I would’ve trusted the two of you together, and plus, I would’ve needed the approval of my wife, and, well …” He shrugged one shoulder as his voice drifted off, leaving behind more questions in its wake.

“What do—”

“But, damn, that would've been one good-looking kid, right? And you certainly would've treated her better. ‘Cause that Benjamin, boy … he is one twisted little fucker."

The hair rose on the back of my neck as an icy chill trickled down my spine. "What do you—"

He gestured toward the folder, still open on the coffee table. “See for yourself.”

Reluctantly, I reached out to slide the picture of me in Analise’s bedroom aside, revealing another underneath. And there, frozen in time, was Analise, bent over the sofa in the sitting room—the same room, the same sofa, where she had stitched up my leg—while Benjamin held a knife to her throat and fucked her from behind.

At a glance, one might’ve believed they were enjoying themselves, but upon closer inspection, the tears on her face became noticeable. There was fear in her open eyes and anger on his snarling face.

Revulsion coalesced with a powerful rage as I stared at the image, unable to tear my gaze away. Never before had I felt such an incredible amount of hatred toward a single human being, and I wished I could hear whatever he was saying to her, wished I could hear her cries, if only to fuel the anger I needed to extinguish his life.

And I will, I silently vowed. I will end him.

What I wanted was to rush out of this room and find the bastard. I imagined plucking his eyeballs from his skull, cutting his tongue from his mouth, and filling his eardrums with molten wax, only to rid him of all other senses before sawing his cock off with a dull razorblade.

I’d shove it down his throat and see what killed him first—asphyxiation or blood loss.

I’d deliver his corpse to Analise and lay it at her feet, like a stray cat giving thanks to a kind stranger who had brought it in during a blizzard.

But I couldn't do it now. I couldn’t be reckless and make a mistake, and I couldn’t let Gerald know he had gotten under my skin.

No … I had to wait for the opportune moment. I couldn’t let a kneejerk reaction get the better of me, no matter how infuriated I was. I had to be smart, unlike Benjamin. He would fuck up one day—the stupid ones always did—and I would seize the opportunity to destroy his fucking worthless life.

I just needed her to hang on. I needed her to be strong.

But I can still make Benny’s life a living hell. Even if I can’t end it yet.

“You’re not the only one who likes to play with knives, apparently,” Gerald said, a hint of satisfaction in his tone.

"Does Virginia know about this?" I asked him as I managed to pull my eyes away from the photograph.

"Virginia?" Gerald barked a laugh. "Kiddo, I don’t think you understand how fucked up my wife truly is. Who do you think runs this shit show?”