Page 130 of Ruthless God

“Guest?”

Her voice is sharp, wary. Like she already suspects she won’t like the answer.

Alyssa’s brows furrow. “Who else is coming?”

Bonnie glances between her parents, then at Claudius, clearly picking up on the tension. Blanc’s jaw tightens. But he doesn’t ask. Which means he already knows.

I swallow, heart pounding. Because I know, too. There’s only one person missing from this equation. And the second Claudius looks at me, his gaze heavy, unreadable, I know for certain.

My mother is coming.

27

Claudius

I know Blanc is pissed at me. But I can’t bring myself to care. I’ve warned him for months that he needed to tell his family about Cecely. I gave him time. I gave him opportunities. I gave him every chance to do the right thing. And he chose not to. So now? He doesn’t get to be angry. He doesn’t get to act blindsided. This was always coming. And that he tried to pretend otherwise is exactly why I took matters into my own hands. Just like I have with everything else.

I glance at Cecely out of the corner of my eye. She looks calm. But I know better. I know what that silence means. She’s about five seconds from demanding answers.

But it’s Blanc’s wife, Aimée, who shatters first.

“You’re bringing that woman here?” Her voice is sharp, incredulous—borderline hysterical. She takes a step forward, her eyes burning into Blanc. “Tell me Irons is lying. Tell me you didn’t actually agree to this.”

Blanc exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “We don’t have a choice.”

Wrong answer.

“The hell we don’t! This isn’t about safety. This is about you and your past catching up with you. I have spent years building this family,” Aimée seethes, her voice shaking. “And now you expect me to welcome that woman into my home? The same woman you?—”

She stops herself. Too late. Everyone knows what she was about to say.

Bonnie’s lips part. Alyssa curses under her breath. And Cecely? Her face stays neutral. But I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands curl into fists.

I take a step forward. Because if Aimée keeps talking, she’s going to regret it. Before I can speak, Blanc’s hand drops from his face, and when he looks at his wife, something inside him finally breaks.

“Enough.”

One word. Sharp. Cutting. Absolute.

His wife freezes, lips still parted, her face twisted in fury.

Blanc steps forward, closing the space between them in one slow, deliberate movement.

“You think this is about my past catching up to me?” He lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “This is about survival. About staying alive long enough to make sure you and our daughters don’t end up in a grave.”

His wife shakes her head, still reeling. “You don’t?—”

“I do.” His voice hardens. “Do you think I would willingly put us all in the same place if I had another choice? If I could fix this from afar?”

She doesn’t respond. Because there is no response to that. The truth is right there, staring her in the face. This isn’t just about Cecely. This is about something bigger. Darker. And whether she likes it or not, her husband is out of options.

She steps back, hands trembling.

“I’ve put up with a lot from you over the years. The cheating. The lies.”

The room drops into silence. Alyssa and Bonnie go rigid, their heads snapping toward their mother.

Aimée’s voice is steady, but there’s something raw beneath it.

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