Chapter 253 Chapter 253: Author's POV

Chapter 253 Chapter 253: Author's POV
Chapter 253: Author's POV

Alonso waved his head slowly. He wouldn't allow himself to be intimidated by someone like this, but something told him this wasn't just someone; he knew him, he looked so familiar, but he couldn't figure out where.

"Did you just know what you have done, you just interfered in a long decade of plans, and you just placed your life and everyone's life you loved so dearly in danger."

Alonso said, hoping his words would somehow cause a feeling of fear or worry or anything to cross on the decoy's face, but the decoy gave him nothing.

He just stood there, breathing with a pair of eyes that didn't blink, watching Alonso's hands like he expected them to do something stupid.

Alonso's hand instantly moved toward his jacket. Maybe he would be fast enough to grab a weapon, but he didn't get close. The man crossed the space between them in under a second, drove a forearm into his chest, and a knee found the inside of his leg before the knife had even cleared his pocket. It clattered across the floor and stopped near the bench. Alonso hit the tile hard enough to lose the breath out of him.

It wasn't a fight. It was barely a struggle.

"Stay down," the man said. This time his voice sounded cold, with no single humor on it. "Whoever you're calling isn't going to pick up for you anymore. Might save you the embarrassment."

As he was about to open his mouth to speak, the door opened and clicked shut as soon as it opened, and Alonso barely registered it.

Two figures walked in.

Walter came in first. Behind him, Nikolai, unhurried, like he'd already decided exactly how this was going to go.

Alonso pushed himself up onto one elbow and looked between the three of them, waiting for whatever came next.

He was strong, but this stranger had beaten him down like he was nothing, which reminded him of where he had come from.

Walter crouched down. Not close enough to touch him, but close enough to be heard.

"You're not going to hurt me," Alonso said first. He needed to be in control. He needed to show this men that he wasn't some dog that they could control.

"No," Walter said.

"Then what is this?"

The room went quiet fir a second, before Nikolai spoke.

"Klaus wanted to save you... He wanted you to see the truth. That this was beyond you."

Alonso's face didn't move right away.

"You think whatever this is will save your family... she's going to die..."

Walter punched him so hard that something cracked on his face, then blood bled down through his nose.

"You don't get to talk about her, you dick..."

"Walter... rein yourself." Nikolai hushed at Walter, then turned back to Alonso, who held his nose in pain, trying to stop the bleeding as he cursed under his breath.

"Did you know that Zane told Klaus what happened, and guess what Klaus did?" Walter said. "He started investigating, as you know, but he figured out that after the explosion, something didn't add up, he didn't believe the official story. Because he kept saying someone must have made it out. But no one believed him, and he was right. Not even Zane. And when he had proof to show to Zane, he got killed."

"He only knew about a little detail, but you don't know what happened to me," Alonso said, anger still flaring in his voice, along with the broken nose Walter had gifted him.

"No," Walter agreed. "We don't... but I have something for you to see."

Nikolai set a tablet on the bench and turned the screen so Alonso could see it from the floor.

"Communication logs," he said. "Real ones. Financial transfers going back fourteen years, one man under three different names. Surgical records from two clinics that don't officially exist. A file with your real name on it, dated the year after the explosion, in a country you were never supposed to be in."

Alonso didn't look at first.

"None of it was written by Zane," Nikolai said. "Every piece of it was assembled by people trying to find you. Not bury you."

"This doesn't prove anything or changes anything."

"It proves you were lied to," Walter said. "That's all it needs to prove right now."

"Zane set the trap."

"Zane was twenty and got lucky," Nikolai said. "You've spent twelve years being told luck was a confession. It wasn't. Simon had set the trap that could have killed you. Simon had caused the explosion because he had a vendetta against Zane, which he himself had no clue of, and you and your military team and everyone with Zane were somehow involved, and you were supposed to be dead, Alonso..." Nikolai said, voice now dropping low, "You were supposed to be dead, six feet in, rotten by now, but you somehow survived, so Simon decided to turn you into his puppet. Turn your fucking head against the very person whom you considered to be a brother."

Alonso's hands were shaking. He hadn't noticed when that started.

"Simon told me—"

"We know what Simon told you," Walter said. "I personally have known about Simon for decades. I've known what he's spent his life building toward. And we know exactly why he needed someone who'd already been broken enough to believe it. The file is in front of you. You have been trained to fight the wrong person, all your life."

Nikolai said angrily, as if he were losing his patience, as if he had one second before blowing his head off, but he was going to remain calm until this operation was completed.

"I'm not broken."

Nobody responded to that. Because this kind of information needed time to process, and even if he didn't accept it, he would definitely blow his brains out and call it a score.

Alonso looked back down at the screen. At dates. At names. At a version of the last twelve years that didn't have his hatred sitting in the center of it like something he'd earned.

"He chose his mother over Klaus," Alonso said, slower now. "I saw that happen. That part's true."

"It's true," Walter said. "Nobody's saying it isn't. It happened, and it's haunted him every day since. But Simon didn't show you that so you'd understand him. He showed you that so you'd hate him. Those aren't the same thing."

Alonso didn't argue. His eyes pinned on a picture he hadn't seen before, something new, something he had actually once seen, but it was more like a scraped out version, quite too blurry to understand.

But this time, this one was clear; it was an image of Simon, a younger version, too young, and he was with a woman, who looked more mature for him, and their position looked quite too intimate, and written above the lady's image was Serena Mercer.

"What is this?"

Alonso asked. He never knew much about Simon's life; Simon had concealed that part of him, and he had decided not to look into it again.

"That is Zane's mother, and that is Simon, as you know. This is where the revenge of Simon has been borne."

Nikolai looked at Alonso and, for the first time, realized that this man had no clue who Simon really was.

"Simon and Serena Mercer were once in a romantic relationship. It was a short one, but short enough for her to be pregnant with his child. Even though they were ages apart. But her baby never survived due to pressure from her family, and she got married to Williams Mercer, who has no clue he's been working with his long-time enemy. Quite a pathetic wretch. All of these..." Nikolai stopped, giving the poor man the time to brace his next words, "are all Simon's ways of having revenge."

Alonso froze; the words were coming out broken, in bits, but everything was beginning to make sense now.

He sat there instead, twelve years of certainty rearranging itself across his face in real time, looking for somewhere new to land.

"Simon... Simon lied."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't even anger yet.

It sounded like a man finding out his whole life had belonged to someone else the entire time, and he was only now getting the bill for it.

Nobody said anything.

The man who wasn't Zane picked the knife up off the floor and put it in his pocket without a word.

Walter stayed where he was, watching Alonso's face come apart, and didn't try to put it back together yet.

There would be time for that later.