My wife had to live with the consequences of his petty jealousy, as he couldn’t find it in himself to love his sister, even though what happened wasn’t her fault.
I could never understand him. I hated my father with everything in me, but that hatred never transferred onto Actaeon.
The time has come for Grant to pay the price for his transgressions.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. She makes up these stories in her head. She’s just trying to gain your sympathy. Don’t believe her.” He cries out again when he takes a step to the side, the glass cutting deeper into his foot, and the blood dripping onto the gray parquet. “She’s psychotic. You just don’t know her.”
Another thing about abusive cowards?
They would always lie and try to present themselves in a better light while coming up with nonexistent dirt on their victims, smearing their public image until everyone just assumes they are crazy.
And society is so gullible that they often listen to such lies. Case in point, Grant wouldn’t have used the same tactic on me if it hadn’t worked out for him in the past.
“Her mom was crazy too. She killed herself because Dad broke up with her. They both belong in a mental institution.” He spits blood. “Like mother, like daughter.”
It takes all my self-control not to shoot him right there and then for daring to speak such words about my wife and her mother, whose life has been a tragedy.
After Rafael gave me the folder with information on Jones, I used my connections to double-check his involvement in my father’s illegal businesses.
Turns out he knew about the strip clubs, high-paying escorts, and even gambling. However, he had no idea about his more deviant preferences and never participated in any crimes.
Still, Diana’s mother was a seventeen-year-old girl who my father lured into his trap, only to parade her in front of his wealthy acquaintances, and Jones, for all his family image, couldn’t resist the temptation. In fact, he was so enamored with her that he didn’t want anyone else to have her and paid my father a lot of money every month to reserve that right.
Conrad encouraged it all, as it gave him leverage against Jones in case he decided to turn on him, and the woman fell in love so much that she was willing to do anything.
“My mother was nothing like her,” Grant continues, probably hoping for his explanation to inspire sympathy in me, yet I have none for him. As a child who knows what it is like to lose his mother, how could he have been so cruel to a little girl who was left all alone? Jones didn’t even love her, so there was no competition for his attention. “And we lost her because of them too.”
“Hers was a tragic accident.”
Anger flashes on his pathetic face. “No! She found out about that whore.”
“Then it’s your father who killed her. He is the one who forgot about your parents’ vows and cheated on your mother.”Grant shakes his head as if he's wishing to forget this fact, but sadly for him, I don’t support people in their delusions. “One might say your anger was misplaced.”
“Diana is difficult. She will betray you and hurt you when you least expect it. It’s in their nature.”
Taking a small sip of my drink, I welcome the burning sensations gliding down my throat. It adds to the fire rapidly growing inside me. The way he speaks about my woman and her mother drives me further to the brink of no return. “And what nature is that?”
“Useless whores who control men with their charms.”
His father exploited Diana’s mother sexually and morally, and now he dares to speak about her as if she deserved it all?
Unfortunately, weak men like Jones, who could never accept their faults, raise men like Grant who think everyone else is to blame for their failures, not themselves.
I pause by the knives, spread in all their splendor, the sharp edges feeling heavy against the pads of my fingers, and, studying several of them, I pick the sharpest.
Wrapping my hand around the wooden handle, I walk toward Grant. He exhales a heavy breath and freezes when I ask him another question, panic glazing over his eyes. “Do you know what they did to liars back in the day, Grant?” My boots thump loudly as I come closer to him, and with each of my steps, his trembling intensifies. “They cut off their tongues.”
“No, I’m—” Whatever he wants to say turns into an agonized scream when I pour whiskey on his face, the alcohol burning his open wounds. Bringing the knife to his cheek, I push it hard enough until it pierces the skin, dragging it down and creating a huge scar that no one would be able to miss.
Like the one on Diana’s back. It’s barely visible, and I’ve never mentioned it to her, but I know I'll recognize a belt buckle scar when I see one.
It kills me that no amount of hurting Grant would make up for all the atrocities he has inflicted on her.
“No, no…” he barely whispers as I pull out the knife and throw it away, punching him in the stomach, and he bends forward, struggling to breathe when the thorns dig into his neck deeper.
Grabbing the chain, I tug on it until it breaks, and he falls to his knees, hitting the ground with a loud thud. He coughs, only to scream once again when I grab the chain and circle it around his throat, flexing it tight. “The thing about loyalty, Grant? You must earn it. And you did nothing to earn that from the people who’ve worked for you.” As he struggles to gasp for air, I tug at the chain and drag him toward the barrel full of water. He whimpers when his knees glide through the glass, further cutting into his flesh, not that I give a fuck. The more misery it all brings him, the better. “For the right price, they were willing to tell me everything you did to my wife over the years.” I lift him by the chair and then dunk his head into the water without warning, keeping him there for several beats before pulling him back out and letting him gulp in air for several heartbeats. “I know everything, Grant, and while I won’t kill you…at some point, you’ll wish I did,” I taunt, dipping his head underwater again.
