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“He’s not your son,” I whisper, looking at my plate.
Without warning, Esteban stands quickly, knocking his chair over in his haste. He flips the table on its side, food and dishes crashing on the ground.
Terrified, I lean as far away in my chair as I can, my heart thundering against my ribcage.
With an evil glint in his black eyes, Esteban bends over my chair, his hands resting on the armrests. He leans into my personal space, making me flinch. “Never utter those words again, Josefina. Maceo is mine. My blood. My boy.”
Nervous from his outburst, I lick my lips. “Where’s your proof?”
Jesus, Jo! Are you a glutton for punishment?Stop being a shit-stirrer.
Esteban barks a laugh and stands upright. “Come now, Josefina. The boy is my carbon-copy. I don’t need a DNA test for confirmation. Besides, I made sure Gabriella was wiped clean before I impregnated her.”
Wiped clean?
My face must reflect my confusion because Esteban gives me a rare smile, dull and cold compared to his supposed son’s.
“Have you ever heard of the drug Misoprostol? No? Nor would I suspect you would. Drugs are my area of expertise. It was invented to prevent stomach ulcers. However, it has several other useful qualities. One being it induces labor, or more appropriately, aborts pregnancy.” Esteban stares hard at me, letting his words sink in.
Like oil, his words creep into every crevice, polluting every prayer with filth and dashing all hope.
Oh, my God!When he meanswiped clean, he means removed all chances of Maceo being Cruz’s biological child.
His hands spread out wide in front of him proudly. “And there you have it. Maceo is mine. Just like hismadrewas mine, and like you and my grandchildren are mine.”
The urge to junk punch him is strong. Hell, if I had a knife handy, I’d castrate him myself.
My head shakes back and forth. “You’re a monster. How could you do that to Gabriella?”
“Because she was never Cruz’s to touch. That filth had no right to be inside of her. The likelihood he impregnated her was low, but I wasn’t willing to risk it. My wish was to raise a family with her—my own family, not some other man’s.”
Maceo’s mother was a nurse; she had to have known what was happening to her, meaning she knew Maceo wasn’t Cruz’s. This means that Maceo’s dad most likely knew too.
I grab at my chest, my heart throbbing for my husband’s loss. My hurt turns to anger. Anger turns to pure rage. When I get this mad, my mouth opens up and spits venom, striking to cause maximum pain with a viperous tongue.
“You disgusting pig! Forcing a woman to miscarry and then forcing another pregnancy on her. You may be his sperm donor, but you’re no father of his. Cruz is his—”
Before I can finish my rant, Esteban’s hand swings out, backhanding me hard across the face. The impact throws me clear from my chair, tiny spots of light dancing in my vision. I catch myself in time to stop myself from falling on my belly, my hands taking the brunt of my fall.
Jesus H. Christ!
This isn’t the first time I’ve been backhanded, but this certainly is the most painful. My mouth fills with blood. With a trembling hand, I reach up to touch my tender face, wincing when my fingers make contact. When I pull my hand away, it’s covered in blood.
Esteban gasps, his dark eyes going wide when he takes me in. When he bends to reach for me, I scramble backward, cutting the palms of my hands on the broken dishware littering the marble floors. The closer he advances, the more desperate I am to retreat. I crab walk backward ‘till the dining room wall is pressing hard into my back and I can’t go any further.
With nowhere to escape, I cradle my belly, praying I can protect them from whatever blows rain down on me.Please, God, if you exist, protect my babies.
Esteban kneels in front of me, removing a handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it against my bruised face. I hiss in pain.
“Mierda,” he curses under his breath. He hollers in Spanish for one of his men to retrieve Doctor Gomez before looking back at me. “Forgive me, little flower. I went too far.”
Forgive him? Is he serious? Sure, I’ll just ignore the fact he assaulted me—Not!
This guy is more unhinged than I thought if he thinks I’ll roll over, taking this abuse in stride. There’s no doubt in my mind I’ve experienced a sliver of what Maceo’s mother suffered at the hands of this psychopath.
Crazy-ass motherfucker.If I wasn’t pregnant, I’d attack him with my bare hands. Damn, maybe I should anyway. If he’s this abusive, my children are in danger, regardless.
Esteban’s eyes trail to where I hug my abdomen. “Did I hurt you here? Did I hurt the babies?”
