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“We also have a recording of Bastian having sex with her,” I inform them both.
Bastian attempts to defend himself but stops, knowing whatever he says is going to make him sound like an idiot. He’s been caught red-handed, and there’s no bullshitting his way out of this.
Bastian stiffens. “How did you get this information?”
“Don’t worry about that. Just know there’s more where that came from, but this is your copy to keep.” I borrow the words he threw at Aurora. “Answer my questions and agree to my demands, and this stays between us.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Who have you spoken to about Aurora’s father?”
His jaw tenses. “I’m waiting for Giovanni Falcone’s secretary to get back to me with a date for a meeting.”
Fuck,what an asshole. He was really going to put Aurora and her father in danger.
“You’re going to cancel that the moment we’re done here.” I press into his windpipe. “Did you speak to anyone else?”
“Only Father.” He cuts a glance at Father, who glares back at him.
“You’re going to keep it that way and destroy every motherfucking file you have on William. If you as much as breathe a word to anyone about anything, I will destroy you. Got it?”
“Yes,” Bastian answers through gritted teeth.
“I mean it, Bastian. I’m going to fucking destroy your ass, and no one will be able to save you.” I look at Father as I say that because I’m talking abouthim. “UnderstandFather?”
“Yes,” he replies in a stiff voice.
“Good.” Oh, how he must loathe the power I hold over him right now.
I release Bastian, wanting to do so much more, but I leave it at that. I won this round, and he lost. They both did.
But I’m still the bigger loser.
I don’t have my wife.
Chapter42
Aurora
The shutters of my old bedroom windows shiver from the strong gust of wind, rattling like they’re talking to each other.
The oncoming storm is a reflection of the heaviness in my soul.
Another day has passed with the sun rising and setting, watching me in this state of flux.
I’m sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall like I did when Mom died and the world felt like it was ending.
At the time, I was still at college, but my childhood bedroom, with its shell-pink walls, pine wood furniture, and countless bookshelves, was my place and space of solace. I’m grateful my parents kept the room the same over the years.
These four walls have seen so much. And here I am again. Trapped in my thoughts once more for a different reason this time, but my heart still aches the same. Maybe that’s just what happens with all types of loss.
Loss in life, and loss in death.
I’ve practically lived in here for the last few days, watching the scenery unravel from perfect sunny days to the dark stormy night tonight will be.
The last two days have been particularly bad because Knight’s phone calls have stopped. So have his messages.
I’m mad as hell at him, but at least his efforts to speak to me meant he was trying.
