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Her voice is a torrent of sorrow and relief, a paradox that sends shivers down my spine. “Amelia... your father... he’s dead. They found him outside the casino. Shot in the head.”
A cold dread washes over me. I glance at Rafael, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the storm brewing within me. Suspicion claws at my heart, whispering dark thoughts. Could he...?
I quietly leave the room to continue the call. As I absorb the shock, my mother’s voice hardens, a stark contrast to her initial grief.
“I haven’t loved your father for a very long time, Amelia. I kept my emotions shut down, but... I’ve wished him dead more times than I care to admit.”
Her words are like a slap, awakening me to the depth of despair my mother lived with, tethered to a man consumed by his vices. “Mom, I... I don’t know what to say.”
“Just promise me you’re okay,” she says, a mother’s concern piercing through her own tumult of emotions. “I know he slapped you but he did love you, in his own way.”
“I know he did.”
“He wasn’t a good man, I know, but he was your father.”
As I hang up, the silence between Rafael and me feels charged, a precursor to a storm I’m not sure we can weather. “This is probably for the best,” he says, his face unreadable.
I face him squarely, my grief morphing into anger. “Did you do it? Did you have my father killed?”
Rafael’s expression hardens, a mix of disbelief and irritation flickering in his eyes. “Of course not. Amelia, you know me better than that.”
But the seed of doubt, once planted, refuses to be easily uprooted. “After what you just said, how can I believe anything else? You warned him, and now he’s dead! For the best, you said. My father is dead, Rafael. Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t do it.”
Rafael’s anger finally breaks the surface, his usual composure giving way to a cold, hard edge. “Get a hold of yourself, Amelia. I made you a promise. Do you really think I would break it? Do you think so little of me?”
His words, meant to reassure, to remind me of the man I believed him to be, only serve to deepen the chasm between us.
I open my mouth to reply, but he’s already turning away, his silence a deafening conclusion to our confrontation.
He walks out without another word, leaving me alone with my swirling thoughts and a heart heavy with grief.
The door closes with a soft click, a sound that feels final, echoing in the empty space he leaves behind.
13
RAFAEL
The decision to confront this head-on leads me to my phone, pulling up contacts I’ve kept dormant for reasons just like this.
The act feels like stepping back into a world I’ve tried to distance myself from, for Amelia’s sake, for our future’s sake.
Yet, here I am, dialing a number that connects me to a man I never expected to speak to again.
I sit behind the desk of my study, knowing Amelia is a few yards away, filled with loathing for me, thinking the worst of me.
The line rings twice before it’s picked up. “Ivanov here.”
“Why’d you kill Adrian North?”
“I did nothing of the sort.” He sounds amused by the suggestion. “But if Mr. North is dead, perhaps it’s because he couldn’t clear his debts.
“Such a shame his son in law was unwilling to help him out. I thought perhaps you were ringing to offer me condolences on the passing of my business associate, Mr. Delaney.”
He didn’t say the words. He didn’t need to. It’s already clear. He had Adrian killed, not for the debts, but to torment me.
“Victor,” I continue, my voice calm, controlled, betraying none of the turmoil beneath. “We need to talk. In person. Neutral ground. The car auction tomorrow night.”
The words are out, my play laid bare. It’s a risk, ending this in public, surrounded by people oblivious to the undercurrents of our world.
