Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
There should never have been.
Clarice glared at me, but the fire behind her eyes was gone. She knew now. It was likely she had known for a long time, deep down, that I had been pulling the strings. Her arrogance just wouldn’t allow her to accept it, and now she was trapped here, a shell of the woman she used to be.
“This is your legacy,” I told her, leaning forward slightly. “You’re nothing now. And Lolita? She’ll be everything you never could be.”
Her body trembled with barely controlled rage, but she said nothing. She couldn’t. Jamison finally spoke, his tone measured as he said what we all knew. “Clarice, you’ve always been too arrogant to see the bigger picture.”
“She never stood a chance,” Bishop added. “Poor thing.”
Clarice’s eyes flicked toward the both of them, her lower lip trembling. I was certain she knew what was said about her now.
Her downfall was a cautionary tale whispered through the halls of this prison and across the Isle, a story of what happens when you cross the wrong man and think yourself untouchable. By ensuring her fall, I had cleared the path for Lolita’s ascension. As tragic as her ending would be, it was nothing but a step toward solidifying my future with the woman who was always meant to hold the sole title of my wife.
I studied Clarice’s face for a moment longer, letting the silence hang between us. How far we’d fallen. There had been a time when she could have been everything I needed—a time when we’d been aligned in our ambitions. Or so I thought until I had to deal with her day in and day out. Lolita saved me in a sense, speeding up the erosion of whatever was between me and this woman. In the end, I had molded her into exactly what I wanted: an example.
I sighed, letting the memories drift away. “I’ll see you soon,” I said finally, a hint of amusement in my voice. “And for once, I’m actually looking forward to it.”
Without waiting for her response, I turned on my heel, signaling to Bishop and Jamison. We left her there, trapped in a prison of her own making. Her last days would be spent with the knowledge that I was the one who orchestrated every part of her downfall.
Once we were back in the corridor, Bishop broke the silence, his voice casual as if we hadn’t just been toying with the remnants of a broken woman’s life. “So, did the audio file work?”
I smirked, glancing at him. “It worked perfectly. I meant to tell you that.”
Jamison raised an eyebrow. “How did you tweak it?”
“Emilio helped,” I replied. “We used the conversation I had with Anya, chopped and screwed it, and added her voice with a program. The effect was seamless.”
I thought back to that day, the look on Lolita’s face as she listened to what she thought was the truth. She hadn’t mentioned Anya since, but I knew it had shaken her. It had hurt her in a way I could still feel lingering beneath the surface. She was keeping her word, though. And I kept her occupied enough to never let the hurt fester.
She never questioned when her closest friend slept with our cousin or anything else surrounding the situation. She was moving on, as promised. I’d be more ecstatic about it if it weren’t because she was trying to keep Anya safe.
Jamison let out a low whistle. “You really are a piece of work.”
I chuckled. “I’m thorough.”
The end goal was Lolita. Everything was for her. I would move hell itself to have that woman by my side.
We continued down the corridor and exited into the prison’s parking lot, the early afternoon sun glaring down at us. I glanced over at Bishop, who leaned against his car, still grinning like a kid who had just pulled off a prank.
“So, where to next?” he asked, looking between me and Jamison.
I glanced at my watch, then at the both of them. “I have one more stop to make. You’re both coming with me.”
Jamison shrugged, adjusting his jacket. “Lead the way.”
Bishop pushed off his car, a devilish glint in his eye. “You know I’m in.”
We all piled into our cars, engines roaring to life as we prepared to head to my next destination—another necessary step in securing the future I had planned.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Waking up with him on top of me felt strangely perfect. It was the twisted routine we had fallen into. As he moved inside me with deliberate slowness, time seemed to stand still, and I felt lost in a sea of pleasure. Those early morning moments with him were sensual and intensely intimate, and I found myself needing it to feel grounded.
On the rare chance he didn’t wake me that way, I felt lost, untethered in a chaotic reality. He always made it right in the end. Making a mess of me as he did. The thrill of being taken by force had given way to something darker, something more sinister.