Chapter 321
Chapter 321
Chapter 183: The Party Man
Roman
The Lawman. The Medicine Man. The Party Man. The General. The Professor.
Those names circled my head like music on repeat. The house was silent, too still for night. It was as if the kitchen respected the gravity
of what Reese had just said.
“Tell me what this Professor’s real name is.” My voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. Too rough. Too hollow. Too stretched
thin.
Reese didn’t look at me at first. His fingers rested loosely on the table, as though he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to keep holding
himself together or fall apart. “I don’t know all their names. I only ever knew one. If anyone knows more than me, it’s The General. He
was the one with rank. The one with all the power. The one they answered to.” His throat bobbed. “The only thing I know for certain is that he kept tapes. ”
My heart stopped mid–beat. “Tapes?” My voice cut through the air. “Tapes of Dahlia p>
His eyes flickered up to mine. “Yes. But the tapes were not exactly about Dahlia. They were for the men. I believe he kept them as leverage. Insurance. He recorded them so none of them would ever defy him. As long as he had those tapes, they obeyed his every command. Because the last thing they want is those recordings getting out to the public p>
The floor lurched beneath me. I tried to breathe, but the kitchen felt too tight, like the air itself was choking me. My vision blurred. My legs buckled. I sank to the cold tile like someone had struck me in the spine.
My hands covered my face because I couldn’t look at the world. Not right now. Not with this truth burning through me. “Jesus … ” My voice cracked. “Jesus Christ, what did they do to you, Dahlia p>
Everything I had believed snapped like an old bone. All these years. All the resentment. All the bitterness. All the nights I cursed her memory. All the times I convinced myself she betrayed me.
She didn’t cheat. She was abused.
My wife had been dying in front of me, and I had been too blind. Too proud. Too consumed with ambition to see how she was being devoured from the inside. She was screaming and I was deaf. Begging and I was absent. Suffering and I was busy.
I let my wife die in silence,
A tremor went through my chest violently and sharply.
Reese lowered himself to the ground beside me, knees touching the tile. His voice was steady, but his eyes were pained. “Roman… This is
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Chapter 321
not the time to break. Dahlia deserves justice. We need to get those bastards. We need to get those tapes from The General”
A bitter laugh forced itself out of me. It sounded wrong. Hysterical. Empty. “Justice? Is that what you think this is all about?” I looked at him with rage battering my ribs. “Then why were you silent? Why didn’t you say anything? You knew. You could have stopped something. Why didn’t you give her the justice she deserved p>
His jaw clenched. His voice was a quiet cut. “Because you were her husband. You were the one she cried over. The one she died miserable for. You were the one she wanted to see her. Not me. ”
My breath froze. He wasn’t shouting. He didn’t need to. “You’re a bastard,” I muttered. The words burned my tongue. “You’re a bloody fucking bastard, Reese p>
He stared straight into me. No anger. No fear. Just truth. “I have never pretended to be the hero,” he said softly. “I know exactly what I am. I know what I see every time I look in the mirror. ”
My nostrils flared. Rage rose before I could stop it. I shoved him backward. “Then what do you see when you look in the mirror? The worst fucking person alive? A selfish, self–serving prick? What do you see? Tell me p>
He didn’t move back far. He grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me eye to eye with him. His breath brushed my cheek. “I see you,
Roman. ”
Silence slammed into the room.
“I see you every time I look in the mirror,” he continued. “Because for years, the only identity I ever had was the one you and Father carved into me. A brat. A disappointment. A traitor. Worthless. The Black Sheep of the Blackwood family.” His voice lowered but sharpened. “But the truth you refuse to admit is that you hate me because you hate yourself. I am everything in you that you don’t want
to face. That you don’t want to admit. That you don’t want to embrace. ”
Sara Lili
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.