Chapter 97 Chapter 97 Came Back with Another Excuse
Rebecca’s POV
Breaking news spread like wildfire across Mandena. The voice of the newscaster echoed through my quiet living room.
“A certain prisoner, Gabriel Moretti, has been unalived by electrocution,” the news anchor announced, her tone professional but laced with intrigue.
My breath hitched. My entire body went still, my hands frozen in place.
On the screen, Gabriel’s picture appeared, a mugshot I had never seen before. His sharp features looked almost lifeless, even in a still image. It felt surreal, like an illusion.
How was this possible?
Just a few days ago, he had been sentenced to prison. And now—he was dead?
The remote slipped from my grasp, landing on the plush carpet with a soft thud. My pulse pounded in my ears as I leaned forward, my eyes glued to the television. The house around me seemed to disappear.
I was alone in the living room, though the mansion was far from empty. My housekeepers, bodyguards, and chefs were somewhere in the massive estate, going about their duties. But at this moment, the silence swallowed me whole.
“Gabriel?” I whispered, almost afraid of saying his name out loud.
I had wanted him to pay for his crimes, but this? This was too sudden, too brutal.
My mind spun with questions. How did this happen? When? Why so quickly?
The news anchor continued, answering some of my silent inquiries.
“After being sent to prison, Moretti had an altercation with a few inmates. The fight escalated, and he ended up taking the life of another prisoner. Given his violent nature and the immediate threat he posed, the head prison officers deemed him too dangerous. Unable to risk more casualties, they made an example of him.”
I exhaled sharply, pressing my fingers against my temple.
Gabriel had always been reckless, always pushing boundaries, believing he was untouchable. It was only a matter of time before his actions caught up with him. But even so, the reality of his death hit me harder than I had expected.
A person who lived so audaciously, breaking the law without a second thought, would eventually perish at its hands.
My eyes fluttered shut, and despite everything he had done, I said a silent prayer for him. He had been one of the worst things to ever happen to me, yet death was a finality that even he did not deserve.
“May his soul rest in peace,” I murmured.
“Amen,” I whispered again, making the sign of the cross over my chest.
I glanced at the clock on the wall.
“10:40 PM,” I read aloud.
Had I really been so absorbed in the news? The report had started at nine, but I had lost all sense of time.
A yawn escaped my lips. It was late, and I needed rest. I reached for the remote, prepared to turn off the television and retreat to my bedroom, when my phone vibrated against the coffee table, its sudden noise shattering the quiet.
I frowned. A call? At this hour?
A sinking feeling settled in my stomach as I reached for the device. My screen illuminated with a familiar name.
Micah.
My heart skipped a beat.
The last time we saw each other was three nights ago. He had wanted to come inside, but I had turned him away. Since then, we had only exchanged text messages and short phone calls.
Why was he calling me now?
I hesitated for a moment before swiping to answer.
“Hello, dear,” I said softly, my voice laced with exhaustion as I climbed into bed, wrapping the duvet around me.
His voice came through immediately, low and strained.
“I’m outside. Please tell your guards to let me in.”
I sat up instantly.
“Huh?”
“I’m at your place,” he repeated, his tone eerily subdued.
I threw the blanket off me, my feet hitting the cold marble floor.
“Micah, why are you here this late?” I asked, moving toward the window. I pushed the curtains aside and peered down at the front gate.
There he was.
Micah stood just beyond the entrance, his posture stiff, his hands buried in his pockets. My guards blocked his way, their stance firm.
I sighed.
“You should have called before coming. It’s really late,” I scolded gently, though my concern for him grew with every passing second.
“I just needed to see you,” he admitted. “It’s important. Please don’t turn me away.”
The raw emotion in his voice made my chest tighten.
Something was wrong.
I reached for the telephone on my bedside table, dialing the guards. One of them picked up almost immediately.
“Yes, madam. This is gate protocol on the line.”
“Let him in.”
“Understood, ma’am.”
A moment later, I watched from the window as the guards stepped aside, allowing Micah to walk through the gates and into my home.
I made my way downstairs, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
When I reached the living room, I found him sitting on the three-seater sofa, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed. He looked… defeated.
The moment he heard my footsteps, he straightened, quickly rising to his feet.
“Sit down, Micah,” I urged him. “You’re not a stranger. Don’t act like one.”
I settled beside him, my nightcap still covering my hair, my pajama sleeves pulled over my fingers. I had been ready for bed, but now sleep was the last thing on my mind.
He sat back down, exhaling deeply.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you so late,” he said.
I shook my head. “Don’t apologize. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
Micah hesitated. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“I don’t know how to say it,” he admitted. “I don’t want you to think I’m a fool.”
I frowned. “Why would I think that? Micah, what happened?”
He finally looked at me, his eyes filled with frustration—and something else. Desperation.
Then, he spoke the words that made my stomach drop.
“They stole everything, Rebecca.”