Page 146 of No Greater Oblivion

“Hurt? It hurts?” My grip on her wrist tightens and twists. “You haven’t even begun to feel real hurt.”

Regina manages to maneuver her way out of my grasp and the second she does, the back of her hand strikes my cheek. The skin there heats from the contact because the rest of me is cold, tingling, and numb.

I seize her by the shoulders and toss her into one of the pews where she lets out a strangled cry. Burying her face in both hands, she does her best to stifle a sob.

“Speak,” I command. “Now.”

Regina sucks in short, greedy breaths in an attempt to stave off what I assume is a looming panic attack. After a prolonged pause she finally lifts her head from her palms.

“Alejandro…” she whispers my name. “I…I think you should sit down for this.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she struggles to swallow the lump forming in her throat, “you don’t have any other choice.”

It doesn’t seem worth trusting her again. I could always kill her but then that leaves the issue of our child and I wouldn’t be able to live with the murder of their mother on my conscience. Moreover, I don’t even know where they are or how to find them. Knowing Regina, they’re likely well-hidden and impossible to locate without help.

So I take the seat she offers and listen.

“I’ll tell you about the baby later, toward the end. But this is about so much more…about Sandro and me and how this all started.” She lifts her chin and a single tear runs steadily down her cheek. “Do you remember how my mother met Gregorio?”

“Vaguely. Our fathers had already fallen out by the time he married Delphine.”

“Monse and I were seven. Sandro had just turned eleven. I remember being so excited to have a brother, especially an older one. I was always taking care of Monse and our mother didn’t pay us as much attention as she should’ve. Marrying into a new family with a brother and a father felt like a dream come true. Gregorio adopted us right away,” she drags the back of her hand across her damp cheeks. “He was a good father to us. I never felt the difference in his love; he treated us the way he treated Sandro. And Sandro, well…he was very different in the beginning.

“He enjoyed having little sisters. For years he was very doting and attentive with us but I always felt I was his favorite. He did love us the same but the love was different.”

Regina takes a steadying breath before continuing.

“His love…changed…as we got older. I must’ve been fourteen the first time it happened.” She drops her gaze to her palms and digs her nails into her skin. “He came into my room while I was changing. I was so upset; he had a habit of barging in without knocking and did it to everyone. We were going to dinner with our grandparents that evening so I’d changed into a nice dress but the zipper wouldn’t go up. I asked him to help me.

“It was so innocent. I never thought—I hadn’t imagined—” She shakes her head. “I felt his eyes on me in a way I never had. He kissed me on the mouth before he left and I was stunned. I kept telling myself it was normal. All brothers kissed their sisters. Time proved me wrong. The older I got, the more attention he gave me. The more he touched me, the more he visited my room, the more he imposed himself upon me. But it wasn’t until the summer before university when I realized just how far his obsession with me had gone.”

“Enough,” I say quietly. “Don’t say anymore.”

“We were alone in the house because Monse was with her friends and our parents were out. I…I was in a bathing suit…alone by the pool.” Her voice quakes and tremors as she struggles to keep her breathing steady. She lifts her head and when our gazes meet, I know the truth before she speaks it into existence. “Él me miraba, Alejandro, pero no como a su hermana. Me miraba como a una mujer. Con deseo.”

A sob breaks free from her lips.

“I was his sister—his little sister—whom he’d watched grow up and he desired me. He lusted after me. He told me as much; right then and there in our parents’ house where anyone could’ve seen or heard. He put his hands on me, tried kissing me⁠—”

“Regina, please,” I urge quietly.

Rage tints my vision red and in another moment, I won’t be responsible for myself or my actions. Sick isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel. Repulsed, appalled, horrified. Another word out of her mouth and I think the nausea might knock me unconscious.

“I begged my parents to let me go abroad for school and my father accepted. He thought I’d be safer overseas, at least so long as the conflict between our families continued. I left to New York and then I met you.” She lifts a trembling hand to my cheek. “Loving you was how I escaped him. I thought that if I could make it past our wedding day then everything would be all right.”

“But we didn’t.”

Her hand drops to her side. “No. We didn’t. Montserrat told Sandro about the wedding and you know what happened after.”

“When did you find out you were pregnant?”

“About six weeks after.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“No, but, Alejandro,” she presses her lips together before continuing. “The baby—our son…he was stillborn.”