Chapter 113 Speechless
❄︎ Viktor ❄︎
The house was quiet while I made my way down the hall.
There was a soundproof den downstairs where my men occasionally cooled off, making the silence absolute.
I’d just returned from a meeting with my arms dealer, who’d whined about a shipment delay like the world might end if I didn’t pat him on the head. A mild issue, nothing I couldn’t fix, but it took more time than I’d wanted to spend.
My hand flexed around the gift bag i’d picked up on my way back. Something small for my scheming wife
I didn’t know why the fuck I bothered sometimes, but the thought of her face softening, just for a second when she opened a gift from me, kept me from dumping the bag in the nearest trash bin.
And of course my head always circled back to her, to the hotel. To the way she‘d played me, and then later hidden under Dante’s name on the auction.
The question was why?
Had she regretted her decision to sell? Well it was too late now.
She rigged the game and still lost, might teach her a thing or two.
The sight of her crying after the final bid had sucked up every feeling of victory I should have felt.
I settled for the fact that I’d stepped in and stopped her from handing it over to a worse buyer.
I cut the thought off with a curse under my breath. She burrowed under my skin like a splinter, always making me think, making me twist up things I wanted to keep straight.
That was when I saw it.
The drapes over Paulo’s old room weren’t drawn all the way.
That door should’ve been locked.
I set the bag down on a shelf, my hand brushing the grip of my gun out of instinct, and pushed inside.
And there she was.
Rosa.
Standing in the middle of my brother’s room with guilt written all over her face, like a thief caught red-handed.
Heat crawled up the back of my neck as I took in the scene.
She had no right…
Then I saw it. The frame in her hands. Paulo.
My chest turned to stone.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” My voice came out thick. I was barely holding it together.
Her eyes went wide. “I…I’m sorry. I noticed the door and…”
“You shouldn’t be in here.” I cut her off sharply. My jaw clenched. “You don’t intrude in certain places in this house.”
She tipped her chin up, stubborn even now. “Why not? I basically live here, don’t I?”
Her hands fumbled as she tried to set the frame back. She wasn’t even looking, her eyes locked on mine instead.
And then… crash.
Glass splintered across the floor.
My blood spiked hotly. I stepped forward, sneering with gritted teeth.
“Will you only be satisfied when you’ve ruined everything you touch?”
She gasped like I’d slapped her. Her eyes teared up instantly, and for a moment I hated myself. But then her eyes sharpened.
“You’re a difficult, rude man, Viktor. Yes, I shouldn’t have come in here… but what was I supposed to do? Just sit on my ass?”
I could barely breathe, rage pulled against my restraint. “You should have asked me.” My voice was hard. “Anything you want to know, you ask me.”
She stared at me, still trembling, then whispered. “Fine.” Her voice shook, but her gaze held mine. “Then tell me. What happened to your brother?”
Her fingers were shaking. Barely, but enough that I saw it. Like she thought I might snap her in two.
And fuck me, I grinned like a shark tasting blood in the water. I couldn’t help it.
“What do you think happened to him?”
She groaned, frustrated. “If I knew, would I ask? If you want to tell me, tell me. If not… leave it.”
She tried to bluff disinterest, but I could see the curiosity wafting off her skin.
I took one step forward and she mirrored it backward instantly. Her heel crunched into the shards of glass.
My laugh was harsh. “Are you serious? You’re scared of me now?”
Her silence confirmed it.
“Fine,” I said. My voice dropped. “I’ll tell you.”
I let the words hang for a second, her eyes wide and expectant. “He killed himself.”
Rosa froze.
I turned away from her and pressed my fingers against the wall to ground me. My throat felt raw.
“My father,” I said slowly, bitterly, “was ashamed of Paulo when he was alive. Hated him more when he died. Because of the way he went out. The coward’s way. Suicide.”
The word tasted like ash in my mouth.
I dragged in a breath, my jaw tight. “And because my father couldn’t bear for anyone to know that his firstborn son had put a gun to his own head, he had me arrested instead. He preferred his second to son rot over the family name.”
Rosa’s voice came out in a broken stammer. “But… the evidence…”
I whipped my head toward her, a sneer pulling across my face.
“Yes. My fingerprints. On the gun. Do you know why?” My chest tightened, anger and grief twisting together. “Because I walked in on him. He had it in his hand. I took it from him and told him he didn’t have to, that we’d fix it. I didn’t take him seriously and I thought I’d stopped him.”
My voice cracked. “I turned my back. For one second. And he whispered… sorry. Then he picked it back up. And pulled the trigger.”
Silence.
Except in my head, where the shot still rang.
My hands curled into fists, nails biting my palms.
“I caught him,” I muttered. “…before he hit the ground. There was blood everywhere.”
For a second I was back there, kneeling with a limp body in my arms, shaking and begging him to stay.
“When I told my father… he looked at me like I was nothing. Then he told me I’d go to jail. That Paulo had embarrassed him, and someone had to pay.”
I fought to control the tremor in my hands.
“So I did.” I added flatly.
She was still staring at me, dumbfounded by the revelation.
If she had only asked. But No.
“Do you know,” I continued, “what it feels like to be blamed for your own brother’s death?”
Her eyes flickered. I kept going, the words burning through my teeth.
“I loved him. Even when I had no faith he’d survive under our father, I didn’t think he’d… do that. Didn’t think he’d put a gun to his head and end it. And because of me… because I couldn’t stop him… he’s gone.”
My chest felt tight, a weight pressing hard.
“And I’m not even mad I went to jail for it. Prison was a fucking gift compared to being trapped with my father. If I hadn’t been locked up, I swear… I would’ve made the rumors true and killed the bastard myself.”
She looked stricken, torn between coming closer or staying back.
Her whole body screamed conflict.
But then her expression shifted to suspicion.
“Viktor,” she whispered. “How do you even remember all this?”
I didn’t answer. I just smirked.
Her breath caught. “You… you remember. You got your memory back.”
She said it like it was a heinous crime.
“When?” she pushed, her voice rising.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” she snapped, anger breaking through her fear. “This is what I hate… you keep lying, hiding things from me…”
“Stop.” The wall shuddered from where I’d struck it with my palm. “You don’t get to preach, not you. You’re the queen of lies, Rosa.”
She reeled back, but I pressed forward. “I know it was Giannis who took you. Why didn’t you tell me? Why would he just… let you go?”
Her lips tightened.
I laughed without humor. “What did he offer you, huh? Did I let a fucking traitor into my house?”
“You don’t deserve anything from me.” She hissed.
The defiance lit me like a spark, heat flooding my veins.
“You know what I’m sick of?” she shot back. “Men like you. Always twisting the story and controlling the narrative just to stay on top. You’re evil, and sick, and selfish.”
She punctuated each word with venom, tears dancing on her lashes.
I stepped toward her, her scent sliding into my lungs and making me burn. I tilted her face up with my finger, staring at her mouth, at the tremble she tried to hide.
“Tell me,” I murmured, “did you ever know a better man? All men are evil, Rosa. We take, we lie. Even your father.”
She snapped away from my touch, her voice shaking with fury. “Don’t. Don’t fucking speak on my father.”
That did it. My hand clamped harder around her jaw, forcing her eyes back to mine. “You wouldn’t defend him so blindly if you knew what he was hiding.”
“I love my father,” she spat. “He gave everything to protect me.”
I chuckled darkly. “Sure. To protect you… from himself.”
Her eyes widened desperately. Hungry for answers. “What do you mean?”
I leaned lower.
“He couldn’t show his face because he murdered the woman he claimed to love. Your mother. Tell me, Rosa… what do you have to say about that?”