“I have my suspicions,” I say, keeping my voice level. “But I want to hear it from you. Why am I here?”
“I already told you.” He leans back, steepling his fingers in front of him. “I knew you’d come back for your brother.”
My stomach clenches. “You used him,” I bite out. “Didn’t care if he lived, as long as it brought me back. Now tell me the truth. Why?”
He exhales through his nose, the barest sound of condescension. “Like you said yourself, I believe you already know why.”
My jaw locks. Fury simmers beneath my skin. “You knew he was vulnerable.”
“I let him make his own choices.”
“You let him die.”
He moves from behind the desk, every step calculated. “He was weak,” he says, pausing a few feet from me. “I told you before, he was too loyal to you. He still spoke about you, even after you deserted our family. That kind of softness doesn’t last in our world.”
My breath stutters, but I don’t let it show. “He was loyal to me because I didn’t treat him like he was disposable.”
He raises an eyebrow, like I’ve said something entertaining. “You think I used him? I didn’t force him into anything. He said he wanted out. I gave him one last job. He didn’t even bother to hire his own protection. That part was all him.”
“You withdrew protection,” I snap. “You left him wide open. You made sure he was in the right place at the wrong time.”
There’s a beat of silence before his voice drops, quiet and almost smug. “Another example of his inability to lead, you need to see the threat before it shows itself. And now you’ve done the same. You came back to Chicago when you must have known I would be looking for you. Just like I knew you would.”
The truth of it hits hard, sharp behind my ribs. I walked straight into his trap. And the worst part? I knew.
“You’re a disgusting excuse for a father.” I spit.
“I simply moved pieces,” he says, his tone as cool as ever. “The board was already set.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides, nails biting deep into my palms. “What now?” I ask, anger and grief fusing in my throat. “Do I rot in this house while you decide what I’m worth?”
He lifts a shoulder, casual. “You’ll stay. Eat. Sleep. When you’re ready, we’ll talk.”
“And if I’m never ready?”
His expression doesn’t shift. “You will be,” he says with maddening certainty. “Because this time, there’s nowhere left for you to run. And no one’s coming to rescue you.”
I feel the impact of those words like a slap. But I don’t react. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
Instead, I lift my chin and hold his gaze until he turns and walks out, leaving the door wide open, as if to mock me. As if to say: go ahead, try.
I stay frozen for a moment, then let myself breathe.
The tears come later when I’m alone, as I sit on the bed and finally let the truth sink in. My brother is dead. My father is the devil I always feared he was. And I’m back in a house I swore I’d never see again, this time with no escape plan.
Caesar looks worse than yesterday.The stubble on his jaw is darker now, more ragged than rough. His skin’s gone pale, and there’s a nervous twitch beneath one eye he can’t seem to control. He looks like a man who’s spent the last twenty-four hours circling his own personal hell, sweating guilt into every crack of that metal chair. Good. He should. I gave him space to remember. Now I want results.
He doesn’t speak when I walk into the room. Doesn’t even lift his head. Just stares at the floor like he thinks if he’s quiet enough, I might forget he’s here.
I shut the door behind me, the sound sharp in the silence. Every step is a reminder that he’s still breathing because I allow it.
“Let’s try this again,” I say. “You’ve had time to remember details and I want them.”
Caesar swallows hard, his eyes flicking up then darting away. “She left the hotel the next morning. She took a rideshare. I tailed her—clean. She didn’t spot me.”
I cross my arms, studying him. “Then?”
“The hospital,” he answers quickly. “Front entrance. She had jeans on—baggy—and a sweatshirt with the hood up. Kept her head down.”
