Page 75 of Secrets of the Brother
It was subtle.
Death by a thousand cuts.
A sly word here. A dropped comment there. The side looks. Hushed whispers. Turned backs. Conversation that hushed at my approach.
It was clear. I had been accused, tried, and sentenced in society’s eyes.
Murderer.
I raised my glass to my lips and sipped slowly as I surveyed the guests, taking their measure.
They would still do business with my family. Business was business and money was money, after all. They just wanted it clear they objected to the idea of being forced to socialize with someone such as me.
Murderer.
There was no point in proclaiming my innocence. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of thinking, even for a moment, that their opinion of me mattered.
But I was taking stock, and I would remember who stood by me… and who didn’t.
And those who didn't would regret it.
“You get used to it.”
I cast a glance at my approaching father before returning my gaze to the assembled guests. “I never realized how difficult it must have been for you.”
He leaned his shoulder against the wall next to me. “To be fair, I deserved it. You don’t.”
“I admire your restraint.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
I narrowed my gaze. “I’m calculating the relatively infinitesimal cost it would take to put these self-righteous bastards out of business. I could ruin half these people before the end of the night and the other half casually over breakfast.”
My father chuckled. “I won’t say it didn’t cross my mind on occasion. We could put a stop to this.”
I shook my head. “No. Tonight is about Cesare and Milana, not me. Besides, the more they suspect me, the more the third man thinks his plan is working. It’s our only advantage, because right now, we have nothing leading us to him.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “It will be over soon. Then things will be back to normal.”
Normal.
What was normal?
I didn’t want my life to go back to normal.
I wanted Bianca.
The problem was, that possibility was becoming more complicated with each fucked-up revelation. It was like we were both caught in a sticky spider web and the more we struggled the more entangled we became. I could hardly blame her for fighting me, for wanting to escape, to move on and just forget.
If I wasn’t such a monster, I’d be the bigger man and let her go.
I’d let her find love with another man.
A clean slate. Someone not tainted with the blood of all these secrets and betrayals.
Yet the thought of another man even touching her, let alone loving her, sent me into a rage.
I couldn’t do it.
