Chapter 128
Marcus's POV
The blood hadn't fully dried yet.
I sat in my father's study—my study now—my fingers lightly drumming against the desktop. Three hours ago, brain matter had been splattered here. Felix, perceptive as always, had already arranged for the carpet to be replaced, but the air still carried lingering traces of gunpowder and rust, reminding me of what I'd just done.
"Boss, this was intercepted this morning." Felix placed a file before me, then carefully retreated two steps, as if getting too close might draw him into the coming storm.
I picked up the document, my eyes settling on the header: Isabella Langley, 20 weeks pregnant. Fetal development normal. Continue folic acid supplementation as recommended...
Twenty weeks.
Five months.
My fingers tightened, slowly tearing the report into strips. A more complex emotion detonated in my chest cavity, then bizarrely reassembled itself into some twisted form of excitement.
"She's pregnant." I heard my own voice, terrifyingly calm. "Five months, Felix."
"Yes, sir." Felix's voice carried caution. "Based on the timeline, conception would have occurred shortly after the battle at Sullivan's estate..."
I laughed.
The sound erupted from deep in my throat, echoing off the study walls until even Felix involuntarily stepped back. I stood and walked to the window, looking down at this city just baptized in blood—my city, cleansed of my father's failures and those bastard sons' incompetence.
"You know what's funny, Felix?" My voice dropped lower, carrying a dangerous edge. "Those two days I had her locked up."
I turned to look at him, noticing his Adam's apple bob.
"I told her, over and over—'Give me a child, Isabella. Give me something that belongs to me.'" The memory tasted bitter on my tongue. "Do you remember what she said?"
Felix hesitated before speaking. "She said... she didn't want to bring a child into this world."
"Exactly." I nodded slowly, each movement deliberate. "She said she wouldn't bring a child into 'blood and lies.' She said I didn't deserve to be a father."
Those torn paper strips seemed to mock me. I kicked over the wastebasket, fragments scattering like confetti at a funeral.
"Turns out she didn't object to having a child at all." My voice went completely cold, all traces of humor evaporating. "She just didn't want to have my child."
"Boss—"
"She'd rather give Sullivan a child than give me even the slightest chance." I cut him off, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "She'd rather let him touch her, let him fill her with his seed, than accept anything from me."
I walked back to the desk, my fingers resuming their rhythmic tapping—tap, tap, tap—like a metronome counting down to something inevitable.
"Get me the contents from my father's safe. The special files. There should be a USB drive marked 'Langley, 2019.03.'"
Felix went completely still. "Boss, that's—"
"I know exactly what it is." My gaze locked on him, and he lowered his eyes under my stare. "Perfect timing, actually. I need to send Isabella a gift. Something... unforgettable."
Ten minutes later, Felix returned with a sealed evidence bag. I took the small USB drive, turning it over in my palm. My father had kept it locked away tight—I'd always assumed it contained business secrets, leverage for some deal. It wasn't until last week, while sorting through his effects, that I'd noticed the date on the label.
March 2019. The month Isabella's mother died.
I inserted the drive into my computer and entered the password. A thirty-seven-minute video file appeared on screen.
I clicked play.
The footage opened on a dim basement—I recognized it immediately as one of the Donovan family's eastern district safe houses, the kind of place we used for "problem solving" when discretion was paramount. The camera wobbled as it advanced, and then I saw the iron chair.
And the woman strapped to it.
Isabella's mother.
I poured myself a glass of whiskey, raising it toward the frozen image on screen—that face so similar to Isabella's, but older, more haggard, eyes filled with terror of what was coming.
"I'm sorry," I said softly to the screen, then smiled. "No, actually I'm not sorry at all. Your daughter forced my hand."
I drained the glass in one swallow.
"Felix, get the tech team in here." I closed the video, turning to him. "I want them to edit this footage into the most impactful version possible. Focus on the torture sequences. Especially that final despair in her eyes."
"Understood, sir." Felix nodded. "When should it be delivered?"
"When Isabella's alone." I leaned back in my chair, fingers steepled beneath my chin. "Gabriel's a control freak—he probably hovers over her constantly. Find a window when he's not there. I want her to face this... surprise... by herself."
"Any message to include?"
I considered for a moment, then smiled. "Just write: 'Satisfied with what you see, Isabella? —M.D.'"
Felix hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Boss, this might—"
"Might what?" I raised an eyebrow. "Be too cruel? Push her over the edge?"
I stood, walking around the desk to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Felix, that's exactly what I'm counting on. She's pregnant now—emotions running high, hormones in chaos. All that stress is very bad for the baby." My smile widened. "Maybe... she'll lose it. Sullivan's precious little heir, gone before it even draws its first breath."
"Then she'll understand," I turned toward the window, "what it feels like to lose something irreplaceable."
The laughter came again, and this time even I could hear the madness in it.
But I didn't care.
Isabella, you refused to give me a child. So don't blame me for destroying the one you chose to have.
You thought running to Sullivan would keep you safe? You thought carrying his baby would protect you?
I'll make you understand—some pain can't be outrun, some wounds never heal.
---
Isabella's POV
Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting dappled patterns across the bed. I reclined against the headboard, one hand resting on my noticeably rounded belly, the other scrolling absently through my phone screen.
Five months along.
My stomach had grown to the point where sleeping on my back was impossible—I had to lie on my side now. Gabriel would carefully arrange pillows behind me every night, making sure I was comfortable before he'd even consider sleeping. Yesterday, Dominic had pressed his ear against my belly for what felt like forever, insisting he could hear "the little princess swimming around in her castle."
I'd laughed and told him that was the baby moving, not swimming.
He'd stubbornly maintained it was definitely swimming, because "princesses always have moats around their castles, and moats need water."
Children's imaginations never failed to delight.
I traced gentle circles over my abdomen, my mind drifting back to the gender reveal ceremony two days ago.
That afternoon, Gabriel had mysteriously led me to the estate's back garden. I'd half-expected another security drill, but instead found the entire space newly decorated—white and pink balloons everywhere, and an enormous confetti cannon positioned in the center of the lawn.
"What is all this?" I'd asked, bewildered.
Gabriel had taken my hand, an rare smile playing at his lips. "You'll see soon enough."
Quincy and several other core team members were there, dressed in casual clothes, looking more like party guests than battle-hardened operatives. Dominic had been racing around with a small trumpet, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Starlight! Uncle Gabriel says there's a big surprise today!" He'd skidded to a stop in front of me, eyes shining. "Are we finding out if the baby's a brother or sister?"
I'd glanced at Gabriel, who nodded.
"The doctor already told me the results," he'd said. "I wanted to share this moment with you. Like this."
My heart had started racing.
We'd deliberately avoided asking about the baby's sex, with Gabriel insisting he wanted a surprise. Apparently, he'd secretly found out long ago.
"Ready?" Gabriel had squeezed my hand, his eyes bright with barely contained anticipation.
I'd nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
He'd raised his hand, and Quincy had pressed the cannon's trigger.