AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He pushes out a harsh breath. “If you must know,” he says with a roll of his eyes, “I had my attorney do a work around. Instead of going through the courts to contest the will, which could take months or even years, I had a few friends of mine …”
He pauses and looks at the three other men in the room like they’re his personal goon squad.
“Help that lawyer realize the error of his ways.” He smiles triumphantly. “Thus, contesting the will isn’t as much of a hassle and that document there states that you willingly give up the money and forfeit it to myself and Rodrigo. My father’srealheirs.”
He says that last part like it’s supposed to sting or something. His father is not mine. I got the better end of the deal when my mother married Carter Townsend.
I look between him and the folder in front of me. Slowly, I lift the folder and open it to the documents inside.
“Do you have a pen? I forgot mine at the office,” I lie.
Gabriel sits up straight in his chair. “I brought a special pen for this occasion.” He holds up a red rollerball pen.
I instantly recognize the style and design.
“It's Montblanc. This was my father’s,” he says proudly. “This’ll be the only time you’ll ever use one of his pens. I thought it would be fitting to have you sign using this one, anyway,” he continues to speak as he hands me the damn thing.
“How fitting,” I respond, taking the pen from him.
I look from him to the papers in my left hand. “You remind me a lot of your father,” I tell him.
His eyes squint as if deciphering what that’s supposed to mean. I don’t bother hiding the malice in my voice.
“He was a controlling, manipulative, and abusive son of a bitch. I see where you get it from.”
Gabriel’s eyes bulge, and I sense the shifting of the other three men in the room. All of my instincts tighten in response.
“I told you before that I planned to wipe my ass with this money.” I meet Gabriel’s hard stare. “Fuck you and him.” I spit on the documents in my hand before tossing them aside.
Before Gabriel can even react, though, I flip the top off of the pen and grab one of his hands, yanking him across the table.
His scream of pain when I ram the tip of the pen into the fleshy part of his right palm, isn’t enough to quell the rage that has been simmering inside of me ever since I saw him standing in Monique’s art gallery.
Gabriel’s screaming turns to a grunt of agony when my first punch cracks his jaw. The sound of the bones in his face breaking help to soothe the jagged edges of my ire. Sometime between the second and third punch I feel hands on me, but they don’t stop me.
I’m somewhat aware of a breeze behind me. I know someone has come through the door that I recently entered. Yet, that knowledge doesn’t stop me from beating the hell out of Gabriel Garcia Jr.
With every hit I remind him of why he should’ve kept his fucking distance. Money is one thing. Threatening the woman I’ve loved since before I knew what the hell love was is an entirely different situation.
“I will fucking kill you!” I yell, again hitting Gabriel.
“Son!”
I vaguely hear the word in my ear but it doesn’t register.
“If you ever in your fucking life …” I trail off because Gabriel’s life won’t last much longer. Hell, the way he’s flopping around after each blow I send to his face, coupled with the blood covering it, I’m not entirely sure he’s alive right now.
Does that stop me?
No.
The dark, uncontrollable rage that I’ve learned to suppress over the years has found its outlet.
“Son! Diego!” a deep, familiar voice calls.
I recognize the voice. The sound of comfort and love and everything a father is supposed to be.
“Son, you’re going to kill him,” it says. This time the statement is accompanied with a steel vice wrapping itself around my upper body.
