Page 94 of The Devil's Pawn

“What the hell do you want?”

“I never wanted anything from you except my freedom and your love. But now, your love is the last thing I want.” There’s malice in my voice, but I no longer care. I’m done.

“Good. Now you have your freedom. I don’t want anything to do with you, either. You’re dead to me as much as your father is.”

I close my eyes and pull in a breath so soft she can’t possibly hear it, saying goodbye to the mother I never had.

“I’m glad that we’re in agreement for once,” I say. “One day, when I’m a mom, I hope like hell I don’t turn out like you.”

She snickers, all high and mighty. “When you’re a mother, if you ever get to be one, I hope your daughter doesn’t turn out to be a slut. That’s what you are. Spreading your legs for that disgusting man. You know what he did to me?”

“I sure do. I’m only sad he didn’t do worse. You deserved it.”

“You little bitch!”

I’m the one laughing now. “You think you’re so much better than him, don’t you? You’ve always thought you were better than everyone. But you never were,Mother.”

I know this conversation is the last one we’ll ever share. It’s a relief. I’ve finally shed her. She’s been forever ripped from my roots.

“I wish I’d never had you,” she huffs.

I can picture her face as she says that. The tension spiraling over her muscles.

“Someday, when you’re old and alone, you might realize what a horrible mother you were,” I remind her. “But by then, it’ll be too late.”

Her rough breaths cut through the line, and I can practically feel their teeth puncturing my skin.

“Go to hell,” she finally spits out.

“You’d better pray I never see you again. Because if I do, you’ll get a lot more from me than a bullet to your foot.”

She gasps.

“I am my father’s daughter, after all.”

“You’re nothing.”

Then the line goes dead. I got to her, and not a damn thing has ever felt better.

I clutch the phone to me, saying goodbye to that part of my life and knowing I’m better for it.

* * *

There’s a light knock on my hospital door.

“Come in,” I say, knowing who it is already.

Chiara peeks through the door, concern swimming in her round, brown eyes.

“Just get in here,” I laugh. “Give me a damn hug already.”

A big sigh sways her shoulders before she comes in and shuts the door.

“So does this mean you don’t totally hate me for being an awful cousin?” She tugs the corner of her lower lip, her brows creasing.

“No, I don’t hate you.” I roll my eyes.

She rushes to my side and takes a seat on the single black armchair next to my bed.

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