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Apparently, the guy was nomadic and had been on the run for a while. I couldn't help but wonder why he kept hiding and what had made him choose this luxurious hotel as his hideout.
Several hours passed, and it appeared that the man didn't want to show himself. The air was thick with the scent of cigar smoke. I sat at the table with James, feeling anxious and uneasy. I couldn't help but feel like something was off about the situation.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a strong-looking muscular guy entered the room. His serious expression and imposing figure sent shivers down my spine. He scanned the room before his eyes landed on us.
"My boss will see you now," he said in a gruff voice.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, we were getting somewhere. I signaled to James that I would wait for him in the parking lot and stood up from the table, eager to get out and breathe some fresh air. However, as I exited the meeting room, my heart sank, and beads of sweat started to form around my forehead.
My ex-fiancée, Christine, was walking towards me, hanging off the arm of a man with a cigar in his mouth. The man appeared to be in his sixties, and she was giggling at him, all over him. Anger and irritation filled me, and years of pent-up emotions began to unravel. I couldn't believe that Christine had really abandoned my daughter and me for this type of life.
"Fucking bitch," I muttered under my breath. Christine spotted me and froze for a few seconds before continuing to walk with Mr. Fugitive into the private meeting room. I was in disbelief. How could Christine show her face like that after all these years? She had left our daughter and me behind for a life of freedom and adventure, but there she was, involved with some bastards in shady dealings.
As I continued on towards the parking lot, my mind was racing with questions and emotions. How could Christine have done this to our family? Was she also involved in illegal activities?
I stood in front of the exterior wall, clenching my fists tightly. I was so angry I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Without thinking, I started punching the wall repeatedly, not caring that it was hurting me more than I was damaging it. Blood trickled down my fingers from my knuckles, staining the wall as I continued to hit it.
But then, I saw her again. Christine. My heart sank at the sight of her. My life was finally good, and now she had to show up and ruin it all again. She looked defeated as she approached me, but I couldn't find it in me to care.
I opened the trunk of the car and searched for something to stop the bleeding. I found a piece of handkerchief, and as I wrapped it around my right hand, I turned to face her. My expression was hard, and I pressed both of my hands together to stop myself from lashing out at her.
"Anthony, I know you're angry at me," she said softly, trying to approach me. But I ducked away, not saying a single word. I didn't want her touch or her sympathy.
"Anthony, I had no choice," she continued, her voice cracking with emotion. "It wasn't easy for me either. Please tell me, how is my daughter? Is she okay? Anthony, look at me."
I growled in response, my anger boiling over.
"I know you’re very angry at me right now, but can we meet up somewhere else later to talk?" she got closer, reaching out to grab my hands.
"Get the fuck out of here," I spat out. She looked terrified, taking a step backward, and I added, "And don't ever let me see you again."
I retreated into the car, slammed the door shut, and drove off. Rain had started to pour down, blurring my vision as I tried to control my breathing. My mind was racing with anger and frustration, and I could hear my heart beating in my ears.
After driving at breakneck speed for several miles down the road, I turned around and slowly made my way back to the hotel to wait for James. I parked my vehicle near the front entrance, anticipating James' return. As I waited, I observed very few people coming and going from the hotel.
Finally, James appeared, and we exchanged a few brief words of greeting before making our way to the car. He glanced at my bandaged hand but said nothing. We got in and started our journey back, with me driving and James settling in for the ride.
Chapter eight
Anthony
It had been a week since the encounter with Christine, that devilish bitch. I honestly hoped she would burn in hell. She hadn’t batted her lashes even once to consider anyone before going into her so-called "good life", and now she had the audacity to come to me and say she was sorry. But it wasn't easy to forgive her.
I would pray and be in church every day if it meant she would never have peace, but I did not have any more time to waste on her. All I knew was that I didn't want to see her around my daughter or me. Ever.
"Daddy!" I heard as I stepped out of the house, followed by a string of “Mr. Anthony!”s.
I was in charge of taking allthe kids to school today—Mrs. Tom's twin girls, Lillian and Jules, who were around Amanda's age; her 13-year-old boy Ethan; and of course, my Amanda. I had offered to take them this morning since Mrs. Tom would be picking them up as well as caring for Amanda overnight tonight.
"Mr. Anthony, do you know Amanda and Jules can draw better than me?" Lilian said as they all piled in the car—the three girls in the back and Ethan as my co-pilot.
"Oh? Well, I haven't seen your work, Lilian, but I'm sure yours is very good too," I replied cunningly.
"It's okay, Mr. Anthony, but they can't play soccer like me." I muffled a laugh at her comeback.
The girls soon started chatting between themselves as I got ready to drive.
"Shut up, you dweebs! You’re so noisy," Ethan sent a sharp warning to the girls behind him. They all seemed to obey him for a few minutes before they started up again. He kept turning around and throwing them dirty looks, to which they looked oblivious.
