Chapter 74: For trust and truth

I blinked slowly, my brows drawn. About Sin? What could it be about Sin?

I looked up to Enrique's wretched face and immediately shook my head. No. I wasn't letting this man have the upper hand again. I wasn't letting this man ruin me all over again.

"I don't want to hear it," I said simply and turned away, walking briskly towards the room.

"You don't want to know the actual truth about six years ago? You don't want to know who..."

"I know it was you, Enrique! You were the one who raped me! You killed my mother and..."

"Why do you think I killed her? She was my favorite call girl."

I closed my eyes hard, my chest heaving. How could he call my mother a call girl? How could he say that to my face?

"G-get away from me," I choked out. "Get the fuck away from me."

"I will," he said rather calmly, his eyes low. "I just wanted to come clean. I saw how you look at my brother. I know how naive you are to not connect the dots around why he is refusing to do anything about the man who raped you when he would remove a man's hand for raising it on you."

I swallowed hard, the gruesome image of Gabriel's bloodied hand filling my mind. I could see the way Sin had cupped my face. The way Sin had protected me. Not just from Gabriel. The fussy woman in the shopping mall. Larissa. Everyone and everything but Enrique and my rape.

I shook my head. I can't do this to myself. I clearly saw Enrique that day. I saw him above me. I saw him kill my mother. I saw him laugh in my face and tell me gory things about how he had always preferred a tighter grip.

I could feel bile rising in my throat, and I simply turned and walked away, my hand reaching to the wall for support.

I had barely made it into the room when I slowly went to the floor, my eyes closing. It felt too real, this pain. And I hated that Enrique was getting in my ear.

Sin never gave me an explanation. He never said a word. He wasn't standing by me for the very first time. It felt horrible, but even worse with what I knew Enrique to be implying.

I closed my eyes, and my treacherous mind tried to fix Sin's face in the spaces where I had known Enrique to be for the past six years. They didn't look much alike, and it didn't seem right. Like I was trying to force history where there was none at all.

I shook my head and pulled myself from the floor. I was choosing to trust Sin. I already did that, but I needed to reinforce it. I trusted Sin. My feelings may or may not have ventured to more, but I still trusted him. That was what was important.

I looked down at the hand that had just been on his lips a few minutes ago. It still tingled, and his eyes, the focus fully on them, his lips out of sight to fuel the growing desire to taste them, they looked exquisite.

He couldn't be. The only association he had with six years ago was that Enrique was his brother. That was it. There was no way he had anything to do with it. Not my mother's death. Not my rape. Not the fact that the house I knew was mere ashes by the time I got back and the police could do nothing to help me. Not the money that bastard had sent to me in the hospital to try to cover up. Like it could bring back my father.

Sin had nothing to do with those. Because if he did...

I shook my head again. No way. No, he couldn't. He would never. He was intense, filled with anger and hate, a formidable enemy. But he had principles. He would never.

I nodded to myself as if to convince myself further. With a sigh, I made my way to the bathroom.

I tried to keep my thoughts away from everything and focus on Angel's birthday. I have never had a birthday myself, and I most times even forgot when it was. The closest I have ever had to a birthday was the one time my father had stuck a candle on a burger, and we had danced around the single flickering light to happy birthday songs.

I closed my eyes. Lord. Please. Please don't let Sin have anything to do with the death of my father. I could forgive anything. Everything. I could forgive the blood. Tolerate the competition from his ex-wife. But this... please, no.

I sighed again, then turned off the shower. Angel was rubbing her eyes when I got out, and I immediately went to her. A smile lifted my lips despite the clouds of doubt and desperation that hung over my mind.

"Did you sleep well, sweetie?"

She met my eyes, then gave a slow nod. Her eyes looked a bit distracted, and I pulled her closer to me.

"Are you okay now?"

She didn't reply. I brought my hand to her hair and slowly patted it down, my voice becoming lower.

"Are you still scared?"

She gave a small nod, and I slowly pulled away from her, my eyes holding hers.

"Sweetheart. Do you really think Daddy would hurt you?"

She blinked up at me before she swallowed. "Mummy said...-"

"No," I said, leaning closer. My finger went to her chest as my eyes held hers. "Listen to what is here. Listen to your heart. Has Daddy ever hurt you before?"

She swallowed. "Mummy said..."

"Angel?"

She stopped talking and hung her head. A moment of silence followed before she shook her head.

"So why do you think he would hurt you now? Are you not his little angel anymore?"

"He left me alone. And... he did not come."

"Angel..."

"And it is because of you."

My brows immediately furrowed. "What?"

She hung her head again. "Daddy let mummy take me because he likes you more than me now. He doesn't like me anymore because you made him like you."

"That is not the truth, Angel. That is not the truth. Your dad..."

"You said mummy sent you to me. You lied. You just wanted to take my daddy and make my mummy cry. You wanted to take my daddy away."

My lips parted, but I could think of nothing to say. Her eyes were accusatory, but her gestures were mostly just tired. Not violent. Just tired.

"Sweetheart..." I trailed off, my hand cupping her cheeks.

She met my eyes, then hung her head again. The room fell into silence, punctuated only by her heavy breaths.