Chapter 117 I have to end this
Lina’s POV
“Victor—stop!” My voice barely cut through the sound of his fist colliding with flesh again.
Ruciano’s head snapped to the side, his body stumbling as Victor gripped his collar tighter, dragging him back up only to land another punch. The crack of it echoed, sharp and violent, and something in my chest twisted painfully.
Blood was already spilling from Ruciano’s nose, trailing down his lips, staining his shirt. His once smooth skin was already turning, bruises blooming beneath the surface like something rotten pushing through.
“Victor, enough!” I rushed forward, but then—
“Mama!”
I turned sharply, remembering they were still standing there.
Rotha and Erla stood frozen at the doorway, their small faces pale, eyes wide, taking in everything they should never have seen.
No.
Not them.
Not this.
I moved instantly, my body acting before my mind could catch up. I grabbed both of them, pulling them toward me.
“Inside,” I said quickly, my voice tight but controlled. “Go inside, now.”
“But mama—” Erla tried, her eyes darting past me, trying to look.
“Now.” My tone left no room for argument.
They hesitated, confusion flickering between them, fear creeping in—but I didn’t give them time. I guided them in, shutting the door firmly behind them.
Their voices muffled through the wood.
“Mama!”
My chest tightened, but I forced myself to turn back.
Just in time to see Victor raise his hand again. I walked over to them.
“Victor!” I grabbed his arm this time, hard, pulling with all the strength I had. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
He didn’t listen.
His breathing was heavy, uneven, his eyes locked on Ruciano like he wanted to erase him completely.
“Don’t touch her,” Ruciano spat, even with blood dripping down his chin. “You think you’re some kind of—”
The next punch cut him off. That was it.
Something snapped in me. I can't stand here and just watch.
I stepped in front of Victor, grabbing his wrist and yanking him toward me. “I said stop!”
He barely reacted. So I did the only thing I knew would reach him. My hand lifted—
Smack.
The sound rang louder than the punches had. Victor froze. Completely.
His head turned slightly from the impact, his chest still heaving—but the rage in his eyes… it flickered.
Just enough.
“What the hell do you think you were doing?” I demanded, my voice shaking, not from fear, but from everything piling up at once. “Have you lost your mind?!”
He blinked, like he was just coming back to himself.
“Lina, I—”
“Don’t.” I cut him off sharply, holding his gaze. “Just don’t.”
Silence fell between us, heavy and suffocating.
Behind me, I could hear Mom and Dad, their voices low, tense, but I didn’t turn.
I couldn’t.
“Let him go,” I said, quieter now, but firm.
Victor’s grip on Ruciano’s collar tightened for a second longer—then slowly, reluctantly, he released him.
Ruciano staggered back, wiping at the blood on his face with the back of his hand, his chest rising and falling hard.
His eyes flicked between us.
Then landed on Victor.
“Watch your back, you motherfucker,” he spat, his voice rough, venomous.
Victor didn’t even look at him. He was still looking at me. And that… irritated me more than anything.
“And you,” I said, turning to face Ruciano fully now, exhaustion creeping into my bones, “you should leave.”
He let out a humorless chuckle, wiping his mouth again. “I will.”
There was something in his tone that made my skin crawl.
“But I’ll come back.”
My jaw tightened.
“I won’t tell you again,” I said slowly, each word sharp, deliberate. “If you come back here, I will hand you over to the police.”
He tilted his head slightly, like he was amused.
“Don’t test my patience.”
For a moment, he just stood there.
Then he smirked. And turned, walking off like nothing had just happened. Like he hadn’t just dragged chaos into my home. I stood there, staring after him until he disappeared from view.
Only then did I realize—
I’d been holding my breath.
It left me all at once, my shoulders dropping as the tension finally cracked.
“Fuck…” I muttered under my breath.
I turned back.
Mom stood there, her expression a mix of shock and anger, her gaze flicking from me to the ground where her phone lay—broken into pieces.
Dad stood beside her, quieter, but his eyes… they said enough.
“Mom…” I stepped toward her, my voice softer now. “I’ll get you another phone, I promise.”
She looked at it for a moment. Then shook her head slightly.
“That’s not the issue, Lina.” Her voice was tight. She stepped closer. “You’ve got to do something about that man.”
I swallowed.
“Now that he’s here,” she continued, her tone urgent, “he’s not going to get off your back that easily. I’m telling you.”
“I know,” I said, though the words felt weak even to me.
Dad placed a hand on my shoulder briefly. “Your mom is right, baby.”
That word—baby—felt strange right now. Because I wasn’t allowed to be one anymore. Not with everything sitting on my shoulders.
He gave me a look, something firm but gentle at the same time, then turned and walked back inside.
Mom followed after a second.
I stayed there for a moment longer. Just… breathing. Trying to gather myself. Then I turned and went inside.
The moment I stepped in, I felt it.
The silence.
Too quiet.
I found them in the living room.
Rotha and Erla sat side by side on the couch, their small bodies stiff, their faces unusually serious.
Waiting.
My chest tightened again.
I walked over slowly and sat in front of them, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
“Okay,” I started, rubbing my hands together lightly. “So um… you can ask your questions.”
They exchanged a look. Then Rotha spoke first.
“Who’s that man, mama?”
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
“He…” I exhaled softly. “He used to be a close friend.”
Erla frowned immediately. “Used to?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“What happened?” Rotha asked.
“We… fell off.”
Rotha blinked. “What does that mean?”
Before I could answer, Erla started.
“You dummy,” Erla said, rolling her eyes slightly. “It means they’re not friends anymore.”
“Oh.” Rotha looked back at me. “Why?”
I opened my mouth but then closed it again. How do you explain something like that to children?
“You don’t need to know that part,” I said gently.
Erla didn’t look convinced. “Then why was Uncle Victor fighting him?” she asked, her voice sharper now. “There was blood on his face.”
“It wasn’t blood,” I said quickly.
Her brows pulled together. “I know what I saw, mama.”
A beat.
“If mama said it wasn’t blood, then it’s not,” Rotha added, nodding firmly.
Erla turned to her. “Be quiet.”
“You be quiet.”
“Enough.” My voice came out stronger than I intended.
They both went still.
I pushed myself to my feet, the tension climbing back up my spine.
“That’s enough, both of you,” I said. “I’m not answering any more questions.”
“Lina,” Dad’s voice came from behind me.
I turned slightly.
He stood there, arms crossed, his expression calm but firm. “We can’t always do this.”
Something in me snapped. “We can’t always do what?” I shot at him.
“Hide things from them.”
“They’re kids!” I snapped.
“We’re not kids, grandpa,” Erla said immediately.
I turned to her, my patience gone. “To your room,” I said, my voice cold. “Now.”
“Mama…” Rotha started softly.
“I said now.”
That did it.
They both stood up quickly, their small faces falling, and walked toward their room.
“Go to your room,” Mom said gently, stepping in. “Let grandma talk to mama for a bit, okay?”
They nodded and disappeared down the hallway. The moment they were gone, the silence returned.
Heavier this time.
“You can’t pour your frustration on them,” Mom said quietly.
I didn’t respond.
“Lina.”
I looked at her.
“Channel your frustration into the right direction,” she continued, her gaze steady. “Stop taking it out on them.”
I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. The right direction. Her words settled somewhere deep.
Something clicked. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just enough. My mind shifted.
From reacting…
To thinking.
To planning.
Because she was right. This couldn’t continue. Not like this. Not with him showing up like that. Not with my children watching. Not with my past knocking on my door like it had a right to be there.
My jaw tightened.
If Ruciano thought he could just walk back into my life—
Then he clearly didn’t know what I was capable of anymore. And maybe…
That was his biggest mistake.
I lifted my head slightly, my gaze hardening.
Because this time—
I wasn’t going to run. And I wasn’t going to just react. I was going to end it.
For good.
“Mom, don't worry, I'll handle it.”