He stepped closer.
“Because in my mind, you weren’t family anymore. You were proof. Reminders. Bastards wearing my name.”
The insult hit harder than the earlier blows.
“I stopped caring what happened to you.”
He pointed at me with deliberate contempt.
“Reports came back — your suffering, the streets, the hunger, the people who used you.”
His mouth curved in disgust.
“I read them.”
He leaned in slightly.
“And I thought — good.”
My chest burned.
“Let her die,” he continued.
“Let the world chew her up the way her mother chewed up my marriage.”
His gaze shifted briefly — calculating — as if recalling another name.
“When Ruslan started hunting your sister...”
He shrugged. “I didn’t interfere.”
The confession was colder than the rest.
“Let him find her. Let him end her.”
His eyes hardened again.
“She wasn’t mine either.”
The words felt like another execution.
My mouth tasted like copper and rage. I swallowed blood and forced my voice to steady itself.
“So you punish us for her sins?”
My hands trembled — but I forced my chin up.
“Mom cheated. Mom lied. We were children. Innocent.”
Vasquez’s expression twisted.
“You’re bastards,” he spat.
His boot scraped against the marble as he stepped closer.
“Tainted. Unwanted.”
The word landed before his hand did.
