Page 50 of Sinfully His

It was the same rage that grew inside me when I saw the cuts and bruises on Rose’s face, the same rage that built in me when I placed ice packs on her hand to lower the swelling.

I understood why I felt the way I did when Rose’s mother struck her. It was because Rose was mine. I was the only one allowed to inflict any kind of pain on her. I’d convinced myself it wasn’t due to caring for her or because of any type of affection for her. That would be disastrous to my plans.

It was possessiveness. Pure and simple.

So why was I just as angry at seeing that Mary Quinn had taken opportunities away from her? I should have been happy that Mary Quinn had done that. If she hadn’t, Rose wouldn’t have been here for me to control, for me to use to reach my goals.

So why the hell did this bother me now?

Why was I so angry that Mary Quinn had kept Rose in her place? I was sure she had some plans for Rose that required her to be in New York. She was probably intending to marry her off to someone to make a good match, or maybe she just wanted to keep Rose under her thumb. None of that should have bothered me. She had no pending nuptials. I had gotten Rose to agree to come to me anytime her mother raised a hand to her. So why did I find these hidden letters so infuriating?

Because I did care about her. The words echoed through my mind, and I dismissed them. I cared for no one. I did not feel affection, I would not feel love. The only emotions I could experience since the lies of a manipulative harpy banished me all those years ago were anger, fury, rage, and the anticipation of the sweet satisfaction of my victory that was waiting for me when I destroyed that woman.

There was no way I felt anything other than disdain for any member of that bitch’s family.

I looked down at the two safe deposit boxes and decided that I would not wait on any of this. I cleared out Mary Quinn’s safedeposit box and tucked everything into my satchel before closing and locking her box again. Then I took the bonds and files that I had transferred to my safe deposit box and added them to my satchel.

The blackmail material she had on every single family was now in my possession. Her wealth, everything that wasn’t tied to her husband’s name, was now in my possession.

Even if she didn’t know it yet, Mary Quinn had lost her social standing, lost the blackmail power that she had, and lost her hidden wealth.

The first, second, and third pillars of Mary Quinn’s power had toppled.

Soon, she was going to feel the world closing around her.

That was when I was going to topple the last pillar. I was going to use Rose and take away Mary Quinn’s family.

I was going to do what my father and many, many other men couldn’t do. I was going to destroy her.

As soon as I left the bank, I noticed that the air smelled sweeter. The world seemed a brighter and better place, so I walked back to the church.

The entire time, I hummed a happy little song as I enjoyed the new pep in my step.

Ding dong, the witch was dead.

CHAPTER 21

ROSE

As my parents and I walked into the church for mass, I immediately noticed the difference.

We were being stared at.

This was worse than when Luc interrupted Amelia’s wedding to Marksen, worse than when Harrison admitted publicly that he was illegitimate, and even worse than when Harrison told his ex-fiancée that he didn’t want to marry her and was instead going to marry his paralegal.

The Sunday after that debacle, it felt like the entire world was staring daggers at us as we walked into church. This was so much worse. People weren’t just staring; they were whispering and pointing. There were so many of them they didn’t even bother hiding their faces when they looked at my family.

I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I knew it had something to do with Father Manwarring.

It started the day I told him about the safe deposit box. First, Mother was screaming, livid that she had been dismissed from every single charitable board she served on—all of them. Her entire social circle turned their backs on her. She was even asked not to attend the gala, her cronies coming up with an excuse about how she should take time to reflect on her actions.

She came after me for that.

Somehow, she got it in her head that I had said something to the wrong person, that I had told someone that the scratches on my face and the bruise on my hand were from her and not just because of my clumsiness.

I told her I didn’t. I told her I would tell no one, and if I did, no one would believe me anyway.

She didn’t hear me. Instead, she kept screaming. She threw a few things at me, but she didn’t dare hit me. Dad was home, which meant that if she struck me and he saw it, he would be forced to act. Mother was always very careful to make sure that the only people who witnessed the violence against her children were people who couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

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