Page 101 of Ruthless Lullaby

But whatever the case, the situation speaks for itself. I've been betrayed by my brother and the woman I…love? Fuck that. All I can feel now is rage, bitter disappointment, and fury. A lethal mix of emotions surging through me like a wildfire, destroying everything in its wake.

The next thing I know is that I’m reaching for the bottle of whiskey on my desk, not even bothering with a glass. I take a long, burning swig, straight from the bottle. The alcohol sears my throat, my chest, but it does nothing to dull the pain that's ripping me apart from the inside out.

Mindy... with Maurice. Fucking Maurice kissing her. Fucking her. Mindy screaming under him, bucking her sweet hips against him. The thought is like a knife twisting in my gut, a sickening, unbearable agony I can't escape. I take another swigof whiskey, then another, and another. I drink until the room starts to spin and my vision blurs at the edges.

But even through the haze of alcohol, I still feel the rage burning inside me, the primal, animalistic urge to destroy something, anything, just to ease the pressure building in my chest.

I stagger to my feet, my eyes landing on the antique fire poker that sits beside the fireplace. Before I can think better of it, I'm gripping the cold metal in my hand. The weight of it feels strangely comforting as I begin to swing it wildly around the room.

I smash it into the bookshelves first, sending priceless first editions and leather-bound volumes flying across the room in a flurry of torn pages and splintered wood. I hear the satisfying crack of glass as I take out a display case full of ancient artifacts. The shards are raining down around me like glittering diamonds.

But it's not enough, not nearly enough to quell the storm that's boiling inside me. I turn my attention to the furniture next, swinging the poker like a baseball bat as I shatter lamps, vases, splinter chairs, and tables into kindling.

I'm a man possessed, a whirlwind of destruction and fury as I lay waste to everything in my path. I can feel sweat pouring down my face, the muscles in my arms as they scream with exertion, but I don't stop. I can't stop until every last piece of my carefully curated world is lying in ruins around me.

And then, just as suddenly as it began... it's over. I'm standing in the middle of my office with my chest heaving and my lungs burning, surrounded by the wreckage of my own making.

The room is unrecognizable. It’s a fucking a war zone of shattered glass, splintered wood, and torn fabric. But even as I take in the sight of the destruction, even as I feel the first flickers of shame and regret creeping in around the edges of my fury... I feel a scream building in my throat. It is a howl of pure, unadulterated agony that I can't hold back. So, I let it rip from my lungs. It comes out as a sound that's more animal than human, more rage than sadness.

I will have her back. No matter what it takes, no matter who I have to rip to shreds in the process. Even if it means burning the world to ashes and salt.

Even if it means tearing my own brother apart, piece by fucking piece.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Mindy

I rush to the hospital as fast as I can.

My heart keeps pounding in my chest, and my mind spirals uncontrollably with the devastating news of my mother's deteriorating condition.

As I hurry down the sterile, white corridors, I catch sight of Dr. Walker.

"Miss Williams," he greets me in a gentle, but serious tone. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"How is she?" I ask, my voice still trembling from the shock. "Can I see her?"

Dr. Walker nods. "Yes, but she's sleeping now. We’ve sedated her to manage the pain. The morphine is keeping her comfortable, but it also means that she may not be fully lucid when she wakes up."

I take a deep breath in an attempt to compose myself. "What happened, doctor?"

He looks at me with a sympathetic expression on his face. "We're not exactly sure, Miss Williams. It’s the unpredictable nature of cancer. Your mother responded well to the latest treatment, but then, something collapsed in her system."

The tears begin to flow freely on my face. "I can still talk to her, right?"

"Of course," Dr. Walker assures me. "She'll be awake soon, and you can have your time with her. But before that, could you come to my office for a moment, Miss Williams? There's something I need to discuss with you."

I hesitate, torn between my need to be by my mother's side and the seriousness in Dr. Walker's tone.

"Sure," I murmur, my voice soft and trembling. "Lead the way."

He leads me down the corridor to his office. I silently follow him, with the weight of what's to come looming above me like a dark raincloud. When we step inside the office, Dr. Walker closes the door behind us and gestures for me to take a seat.

"Miss Williams," he begins, and clears his throat. His voice comes out careful and measured. "As your mother's condition worsens, it's important that we discuss what follows… after she passes."

I feel a chill run down my spine. A sickening sense of dread settles in the pit of my stomach. Is this about money again?

"What do you mean?" I ask.

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