Chapter 59

Chapter 59
Adrik's POV 

I glanced at my reflection one last time. The man staring back at me in the mirror wasn't a man at all — not anymore. My jaw was tight, my eyes dead, and my pulse steady in a way that always came before I did something... irreparable. I stepped out of the bedroom — our bedroom — though I hadn't touched the bed since Joy's little "escape trip." That's what I choose to call it. Something mild. Something that doesn't betray the way my chest still burns every time I think about her running from me.
If my mother knew the truth, she'd fill my ears with that shrill voice of hers, telling me to "bring Joy back where she belongs" and "stop playing with my food." But my mother doesn't understand — I have my own plans. Plans that require patience, precision... and a little bit of cruelty.
As I descended the stairs, I spotted him — my brother. My idiot of a brother. The same fool I'd warned, in explicit detail, not to ruin the shipment. And yet, he did. Exactly that. My fingers twitched toward the gun at my side, and for a split second, I imagined the spray of red against the white wall. One clean shot between his eyes and the problem would be gone. But not tonight. Not when there were bigger things to handle.
"Let's go," I said, voice low. He fell in behind me, keeping a deliberate distance. Everyone in the family knows better than to push me when my temper's riding high.
We arrived at the gala — the same one I'd partially funded this year. The press would call it charity work. The mayor would smile and shake my hand, talking about generosity and civic responsibility. But only I knew why I had chosen to do this... and it had nothing to do with charity.
Inside, the air was thick with perfume, champagne, and the dull murmur of small talk. Wealthy men in tailored suits, women dripping in diamonds, and politicians who smelled faintly of desperation. My brother trailed beside me as the mayor made a beeline toward us, his smile too wide, his handshake too eager. I played along, all polite smiles and measured words, while inside I counted down the minutes.
I insisted we watch the gala from the top floor, away from the noise. My brother agreed — perhaps because he liked the view, or perhaps because he didn't want to stand too close to me on the ground floor. It didn't matter.
And then I saw her.
My wife.
Joy.
Standing there like the universe had drawn her in the center of the room and lit her up for my eyes alone. My spies had already told me about the boy — the one standing too close to her. I had the file. The name. The address. The routines. Everything I needed to end him.
But seeing them together was different. Watching him lean toward her, watching her smile — my Joy — was a brand pressed to my skin. My jaw clenched. The room's noise faded into a low hum. All I could see was the boy's hand touching her.
Touching what's mine.
They danced. His palm at her waist, his other hand laced with hers. I watched her grandmother laugh beside them, utterly oblivious to the fact that she was standing next to a man I would soon remove from the earth.
My fingers curled around the balcony railing, and for a moment I thought I might snap it in half. My pulse slowed, the way it always does when my mind starts cataloging the ways I could end someone. Quietly. Publicly. Slowly. Quickly. A thousand methods and none of them enough.
I wasn't angry. No... anger was too shallow for what I felt.
I was patient.
And patience, in my hands, is far deadlier than rage.
Soon.

I kept my eyes fixed on her — on the way she moved. Joy never danced like that with me. She was lighter now, freer, like the music had slipped inside her bones. I hated it. I hated that I couldn't decide whether I wanted to drag her away from him or just stand here and watch until she remembered exactly who she belonged to.
The boy spun her, his hand brushing down her back before settling on her waist again. I felt the vein in my temple pulse. My men, positioned near the exits, were already watching him. They didn't need my signal. They knew the rules: when I point, someone disappears.
"Adrik," the mayor's voice cut into my thoughts, grating like sandpaper. I turned my head slowly to face him, masking my irritation. His smile was wide, fake, the kind men wear when they're praying you've forgotten their debt.
"Mayor," I greeted, shaking his hand. My grip lingered — just a fraction tighter than necessary — until his knuckles whitened. "I hear your campaign is going well."
"It's... progressing," he said, his eyes darting toward my brother and then to the crowd below. "I wanted to thank you again for your... generous support at the last fundraiser."
Generous. That was one way to put it. I leaned in slightly, my voice low enough that only he could hear. "Your gratitude is noted. But I believe we have... an outstanding matter to resolve."
He swallowed. "Yes, I'm aware. The—uh—transfer will be processed soon."
"Soon," I repeated, my gaze drifting back to the dance floor where Joy laughed at something the boy whispered in her ear. My jaw tightened. "You've been saying 'soon' for three months."
The mayor tried to smile again, but the edges of it trembled. "I promise, it's—"
I cut him off, my eyes still locked on Joy. "Make sure your promise doesn't expire before my patience does. I'd hate for your political career to end... prematurely."
He nodded quickly, his Adam's apple bobbing like a man who had just realized the depth of his mistake. "Understood."
I finally looked at him then — really looked. "Good." I released his hand, letting him step back.
Below, the boy dipped Joy, her hair falling over her shoulder in a dark wave. She laughed again, unguarded. I didn't join in. My gaze stayed fixed on them, calculating.
The mayor walked away, but I hardly noticed. My mind was already somewhere else — already deciding exactly where and when that boy would take his last breath.

From my vantage point, I could almost read her lips. The boy was talking too close, leaning in as though the music gave him permission to invade what was mine. Joy tilted her head up at him, her eyes warm — warmer than they'd been toward me in weeks.
A server passed by with champagne, and I took a glass without looking. The liquid was cold on my tongue, but it didn't cool the heat crawling up my spine. I shifted slightly, just enough to hear fragments of their voices over the music.
"...missed you at the last—" the boy said, his voice low but full of familiarity.
"I couldn't come," Joy replied, her tone soft. "Things have been... complicated."
Complicated. I almost smiled. She had no idea how complicated I could make them.
The boy's hand brushed her forearm in a way that made my fingers tighten around the glass stem. "You should have called me," he murmured. "I could have helped."
Help. The word tasted bitter in my mouth. No one helps Joy. No one protects her. That's my job — my right.
She laughed lightly, shaking her head, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned closer as if confessing something. I couldn't hear her words, but I didn't need to. Her body language was enough to make me envision every possible scenario — every one ending with me removing him from her world entirely.
"Boss," my brother's voice cut in, quiet but alert. "You want me to get him now?"
I didn't answer immediately. My gaze stayed on them as the boy spun her again, the hem of her dress catching the light. She looked almost happy. And that, more than anything, infuriated me. Happiness should be something I give her — not some outsider with a cheap suit and borrowed charm.
"Not yet," I said finally, my voice low. "Let him enjoy himself. People cherish the moments before everything ends."
From the corner of my eye, I saw my brother smirk, but he didn't speak again. He knew I wasn't joking.
Below, Joy's grandmother appeared, joining them with a polite smile. Joy lit up, greeting her warmly, and for a moment, my wife looked like the girl she used to be — before she was mine. I watched as the grandmother greeted the boy, even touching his arm in approval. My jaw tightened further.
Approval. They were all too comfortable with each other.
I set my glass down and adjusted my cufflinks, already deciding how the night would end. The gala was full of witnesses, and I had appearances to maintain. But after tonight, the boy would never stand this close to her again.
Ever.