Page 132 of Ruthless God

“She would’ve found out eventually,” I say simply. “You should’ve told her the truth a long time ago.”

Blanc lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head.

“You talk like it was that easy.”

“It was.”

His expression tightens. “You don’t understand, Irons. My wife has stood by me for years. She put up with?—”

“Your affairs?” I cut in, my voice like steel. “Your lies?”

Blanc’s jaw tics. I don’t back down.

“She didn’t leave you for those, Blanc.” I pause. “She left you for this. For keeping Cecely a secret.”

His eyes flicker with frustration and maybe even regret. But instead of addressing it, he pours himself another drink. I let the silence stretch. I let him feel it. Because no matter how much he wants to drown this in whisky, the truth isn’t going away.

Finally, he says, “I want Beatrice in my room. Move Aimée somewhere else.”

His voice is steady, absolute. Like this is just another business transaction. Like it’s not the final nail in his already crumbling marriage.

I exhale slowly.

“You really are a piece of work, Blanc.”

That gets a reaction. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“Aimée asked for a divorce.” He swirls the amber liquid in his glass, finally looking at me. “You think I’m going to chase after a woman who doesn’t want me?”

I huff out a humorless laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

Blanc’s fingers tighten around his glass. I step closer, my tone dropping.

“She didn’t leave you for Beatrice. She left you for the way you treated her. The way you dismissed her. Lied to her. She put up with everything, and still—you never chose her.”

He exhales sharply, setting his drink down hard.

“Don’t act like you know my marriage, Irons.”

“Oh, but I do. You’re like every other man in the Brotherhood who sold a chance at happiness for greatness.”

Blanc’s hand tightens around his glass, knuckles turning white. For a second, I think he’s going to ignore me. Brush it off. Lie.

But then he says, “You wouldn’t understand. You were never supposed to be a member.” His voice is low, bitter. “You were just the spare. The person no one thought about.”

I go still.

Because I know that already.

I’ve always known that.

But hearing it from him? From someone who sat at the Brotherhood’s table, someone who saw the inner workings of this world long before I did? It hits differently.

Blanc doesn’t stop.

“It was Gabriel who was supposed to be one of us. Gabriel who was meant to follow the rules.” He shakes his head. “And now he’s going to make sure I die because I didn’t listen to him.”

My pulse spikes. A cold, creeping chill slides down my spine.

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