Page 51 of On Your Knees

I freeze, my pulse quickening as I try to keep my face composed. “Oh?” I manage, my tone as neutral as I can make it.

“Yeah,” Christopher continues, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. “My son won’t stop talking about you, about how he went to God’s house.”

I swallow hard, forcing myself to remember the polite veneer I need to maintain. “Oh, right. Nate?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

He nods, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Yes. My ex-wife always has all these hairbrained ideas she likes to push onto Nate.” He rolls his eyes dramatically, as if the very thought of Eva’s parenting is a personal affront.

Inside, my anger flares. I think Eva is a wonderful mother, dedicated and loving, but here’s Christopher dismissing her with a casual sneer. It’s infuriating, but I have to keep my composure. I can’t let him see how badly I’d love to murder him in cold blood.

Christopher’s eyes are cold and calculating as he continues to speak, oblivious to the internal battle raging within me. I force a polite smile and make some noncommittal remarks, nodding along while my mind churns with anger and frustration.

“We have to get going. Maybe I’ll check out God’s house this Sunday,” Lazarus says with a laugh.

I nod. “Sure thing. We’d love to see you there.”

As they walk away I let out a heavy sigh. Fuck. I don’t know how much more of this I can handle.

Chapter 24

Evangelina

Last night at the club was enough to terrify me into swearing off Club Greed forever. The atmosphere was oppressive, and the fear of being recognized or involved in something dangerous was overwhelming. Yet, I know I'll have to go back. The money I’m making there is crucial for my financial stability, and I need every penny I can get.

On a brighter note, I’ve already secured a new lawyer from the list Greer gave me. He’s a kind man with a reassuring demeanor, and for the first time in a while, I’m feeling hopeful about my chances of gaining custody of Nate. This new lawyer seems genuinely invested in my case, which is a relief.

I can’t help but think that if I could prove Christopher has ties to the Delgados, it might significantly bolster my case. The thought of exposing his connections could be a game-changer. However, I’m aware of the enormity of this task. I’d need substantialevidence to make such a claim, and considering Christopher’s shady dealings, proving it might be out of my reach. The idea of alerting the FBI or another federal agency seems daunting, but it’s a potential avenue I’ve been considering. For now, all I can do is focus on my lawyer and hope for the best.

Benedict and I watched the Delgado meeting from the safety of the surveillance room all night, and I watched as Christopher received lap dance after lap dance. I don’t even know how I feel about watching all of that. There was a point where a woman got down on her knees for him and I had to turn away.

I always knew Christopher cheated on me, but to see it so openly, so matter-of-factly, well, it hurt. And if I’m being honest, my mind’s been a scrambled mess ever since last night.

I still have this gnawing feeling he noticed me. I asked Benedict a million times what they spoke about, and he assured me Christopher didn’t say anything about spotting me at the club, but then again, Christopher wouldn’t play his hand so soon.

And then when Benedict and I left the club together, he dropped me off at home and gave me a tender kiss. A kiss that held promises. Or at least I hope it did.

There’s a knock at the door, and my heart skips a beat. I rush to answer it, hoping against hope that it’s Benedict. I pull open the door, and my stomach drops as I come face-to-face with Christopher.

He strides in with a self-assured air, as though he owns the place—or perhaps that he owns me. His presence is both imposing and infuriating.

“What are you doing here?” I demand, trying to keep my voice steady while every muscle in my body tenses. My mind races,trying to anticipate his intentions and prepare for whatever confrontation might be coming.

“Think I wouldn’t notice?” Christopher sneers, his tone dripping with disdain as he strides around my apartment with an air of arrogant entitlement. His gaze roams the room before finally settling on me, his eyes burning with anger. “You think I wouldn’t see what a whore you were last night? Did you really believe that wearing a black wig would be enough to disguise you? What the hell were you doing there?”

He advances on me with menacing steps, and I can’t help but flinch as he closes the gap. His presence is overwhelming, and I’m paralyzed by a mix of fear and confusion. I’m torn between confessing the truth and denying everything. My silence speaks volumes, though, and the fear in my eyes is tangible.

“Answer me, you fucking bitch,” he growls, his voice a harsh, threatening whisper. “Were you spying on me?”

I shake my head vigorously, my throat tightening as I try to muster a response. “No,” I manage to croak out, my voice barely more than a whisper. The fear constricts my words, making them almost inaudible.

He raises his hand with a swift, menacing motion, and before I can react, there's a deafening crack as his palm connects with my face, nearly splitting it in two. The pain is sharp and immediate, and I stagger back, reeling from the impact. “You fucking dumb cunt,” he spits out, his voice dripping with malice. “You better keep your mouth shut about seeing me there. Do you hear me?”

Without waiting for an answer, he drives another punch into my face. The force of it sends me sprawling to the ground, my vision blurring as the world around me tilts and sways. The searingpain radiates across my jaw, climbing up my face, and settling intensely around my eye. I can barely make out his figure as I hold up a trembling hand, desperate to shield myself from any more blows.

But the respite is short-lived. He delivers a brutal kick to my ribs, and then another, the impact of his loafer crushing against my bones with a sickening thud. The pain is excruciating, and I curl up, gasping for breath as my body writhes in agony. The room spins, and I can barely focus through the haze of pain and darkness closing in at the edges of my vision.

And then he keeps hitting, punching, kicking me as I try not to pass out from the pain.

He leans in close, bending over my body as I quiver and shake. “You ever try to take my son away from me, I’ll fucking kill you. I know about your new lawyer. I know what you’re trying to do. You ever go through with any of it and it’ll be the last thing you do.” And with those words he leaves my apartment.

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