DECEIT (B723) by Hazel Grace (ebook reader for surface pro .TXT) 📕

her on a pedestal—right or wrong, I did—and she failed me. I won’t let her in again, and I sure as hell won’t be open to her. Obviously I did the right thing by keeping my feelings to my fucking self.

“I know you hate me,” she mutters calmly. “That I put you through hell.”

“I more than hate you.” The metal between us digs deeper into her head. “ I honestly despise the very sight of you.” Emmy averts his gaze, turning her head to look at something else in the room. My gun lands on the back of her head and I can’t stand seeing it there as if I’m going to execute her from behind. “Look at me.”

She does, tears glistening in her eyes, but they don’t land in a spot where I’d feel sorry. They just look guilty to me.

“Why?” It’s a simple question, and I know it’s not a straightforward answer, but I want it anyway.

“Kill him,” she grumbles out, her eyes narrow in on me. “And I kill you.”

My lips curl into a menacing smile. “Not if I don’t kill you right here and now, baby. If I like your answer…we’ll talk.”

“You won’t.”

“Try me.” Emmy leans up off the wall, getting into my face to make it seem like she has some sort of control of this conversation.

She does because she has justifications of things I need to know to move on with my life.

“I faked my death because Alexander stabbed me over six times in the stomach when he realized he spoke too much about his shady dealings with his brother. He left me to die in my condo. So I called Mills to get me. I made Lucien and Mills agree to my plan. I threatened to do it another way if they didn’t help me. I forced my best friend to be a father to my kids so that Alexander couldn’t walk out of the hospital with them. I forged DNA tests. I purposely had a closed casket for obvious reasons. I couldn’t let him take Atlas and Alaric when they were out of the NICU or make any important decisions for their well-being because I don’t trust him. End of story.”

I stare at her, allowing the words to sink into my brain.

They don’t, not really.

I’m shocked and upset and worried and full of everything all mixed into a black blur of nothing.

Alexander stabbed me over six times in the stomach. 

Where was I? Why didn’t she call me?

I step away then lift her baggy shirt over her stomach to find wounds that mar her creamy skin.

I count them, all six angry and violent scars, and drop the fabric of material as if I just suffered one of them.

A tear drops to Emmy’s cheekbone, declaring that everything she just told me, she endured. That, not only was she almost murdered by a man she trusted, but her two babies as well.

And I have nothing to say.

I can’t find words or animosity within me to act on the reason she fake died on me.

I just feel the loneliness she must’ve felt when he left her alone to die. How worried for her unborn children she would’ve been. The possible hopelessness and fear that initiated.

“They’re his kids,” Emmy notes. “That’s why I’ve been cock-blocking him. When they were born…I never picked out names. I just thought of you and how I wish everything didn’t end as it did. Alaric was my gift because I wanted you to have it. This was, of course, before the brilliant idea of Mills. And Atlas—“ A faint grin paints her face. “—she was my map home. The reminder to come back hopefully unscathed.”

“I wish you wouldn’t have,” I mutter through my taut jaw. “They’re not mine.”

“I wish that—“

“Stop.” My arm shoots up to keep her from speaking another heart-wrenching word. “You didn’t die, but you could’ve. You didn’t call me. You left me to believe that you were going to live happily ever fucking after with that rich shithead and—“

“Mills got me to the hospital safe and—“

“You fucked up royally but I guess you were always the princess, weren’t you?”

“That’s not—“ My hand clamps over her mouth as I shove her back into the wall. The gun in my other comes back up to the side of her head again and Emmy’s eyes follow it cautiously.

“I’m going to take…what you took from me,” I say slowly, making sure she hears every single one of my next promises. “I’m going to torture and fucking kill Alexander for placing a fucking hand on you.” I feel her mouth move to speak against my palm but it restricts her. “I don’t give a shit what you say. I don’t care that you want to do it yourself. This is what they call answering for your sins.”

Emmy’s brows furrow, making her little eyes crinkle. She’s so fucking beautiful, even with her darker hair but I miss her whitish blonde locks. I miss my innocent and sweet-looking Emmy in her cute little dresses and heels.

I miss everything.

And now that I have it, it resembles nothing like it did before.

Everything has changed. My heart and mind are so wrecked from loss that her in front of me feels fake and nightmare-ish.

“I’ll let you know where he’s buried so you can dig it up and drop it in the sea if you want to do that instead.” She violently shakes her head then stomps her foot like the brat she is. “Did you prefer your front doorstep?”

She narrows her eyes then reaches up to pull my hand down from her lips and I surprise us both when I vigorously flinch from her touch.

Then my temper takes on its full form and I full-on glare at my ex-wife.

For making me react to her the way I do because hope, faith, and love have fled and left us with betrayal, fear, and anger.

“It’s only fair,” I recite. “To take the one thing you want when you took mine away. You were the singular thing on