Alex slept next to me all those years, held me, kissed me, and all along he knew my father went to prison for a crime he did not commit.
“How could you? How could you do this to me, Alex?”
He gets off the bed and comes to pull me into his arms.
“It was a mistake,” he says into my hair, his body trembling against mine. He’s crying almost as much as I am.
Grief closes up my throat as his words sink into my mind.
“Get the hell away from me.” I plant my palms on his chest and shove him away. “I’m going to the cops. You... You monster. My father was innocent. You are the murderer. You belong in prison.”
I pat my pockets for my phone. Nothing. Crap. I left it inside the house.
“Don’t be stupid, Viola,” Marcy says with authority. “You’re not calling anyone. You’re also not going anywhere.”
She’s not making a move to approach us. The gun is dangling in her hand by her side like a harmless toy.But fear is creeping up on me.
Am I about to become their next victim?
I force myself to meet her gaze. If I look at the gun, she’ll know I’m scared. I don’t want to give her more power than she already thinks she has over me.
“What are you going to do now?” I ask with as much confidence as I can muster up. “Do you want me dead like those innocent girls?”
“I warned you, Viola. I asked you many times to stay away from my son. I gave you money.” She sneers. “Now here you are, back in our lives.” She points the gun at me, then lowers it again. “You’ve done enough damage. I won’t let you destroy my son’s life again, not when I worked so hard to repair the damage.”
She wipes her mouth with her hand, leaving a smear of lipstick cutting across her cheek like blood. I’ve never seen her look less than perfectly put together before.
“You think by committing murder you’ll be protecting your son?”
“A good mother would protect her child no matter what it takes.”
She points the gun at me again. I try not to flinch.
I’ve never had a gun pointed at me before. The sight of it loosens my bladder. I need the bathroom, but I have to hold it in.
“Don’t do it, Mother.” There’s a thread of warning in Alex’s voice.
When his mother laughs, he takes my hand to pull me toward the bed and away from her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Marcy glares at him. “Can’t you see that this is in your best interest? Son, it’s time for you to man up.”
“She’s my wife. I love her.” He tightens his hand around me.
“We both know that’s not true, darling. You only think you love her because she was the first girl to show any interest in you.” She moves her gaze to me. “That woman doesn’t even love you. It was all pity she felt for you, the fat, little rich boy. What she saw was a chance out of poverty. She wanted your money and nothing else.”
I pull away from Alex. “You couldn’t be farther from the truth,” I say with venom in my voice. “I loved your son. But you wouldn’t know anything about that. There’s no place in your twisted heart for love.”
“You love me?” Alex tries to reach for me again. “You still love me.”
I throw him a look of disgust. “No, Alex. I said I loved you. I loved the man I thought you were.”
I blink several times, but I can’t stop crying. If I survive, how am I ever going to heal from this?
“It’s not over,” Alex begs. “You can still learn to love me again. I’ll never hurt you, never again.”
“Stop groveling,” Marcy snaps. “It makes you weak.” She raises the gun a little higher. “Let’s get her out of the way. You don’t need her in the life I have planned for you. My darling boy, now that you are no longer dragging fat around with you, you can have any woman you ever desire, actresses, models, businesswomen. Real women, Alex.”
“I don’t need them. I want Viola.” Alex comes to stand between us, his feet planted apart, his chest puffed out.
