Page 84 of Savage Daddies

Lo and behold, the marriage contract that will shock a nation.

I peel back the plastic sleeve and read. In the bottom right, I catch Zoe’s signature—a tiny scribble to mark day one of imprisonment. I imagine her signing it. The glum look on her face. I imagine her sister, Fiona, the young redhead beside her, sobbing or disassociating herself away from the situation or something, and then the two men—Warren and Felix, shaking hands to seal the deal.

How would her father feel? Sad? Did hewantto marry Zoe off?

He was probably impartial about the whole thing and had no opinion.

Anything to save the business, right?

I snap another photo, and then move on to the top drawer.

2025.

The evidence in this folder suggests that he rarely kills now. The assassination business no longer exists. I flick through the folder and find no invoices, none of him killing anyone, anyway. It appears the setup was only temporary to increase bank so he could purchase his first property and kickstart the real estate business.

He doesn’t kill for others.

But he did, thirteen months ago, for Paul Royal.

I don’t know why he paper-clipped a 2024 invoice into a folder containing documentation from this current year, but it grabs my attention regardless.

Description of service: (July 13th, 2024): Whistleblower Isla Juniper manages to uncover Paul’s money laundering ventures that have been occurring behind the scenes at Cash Pot Palace for eleven years. The twenty-six-year-old whistleblower threatens to make information public, so Paul approaches me to eliminate the whistleblower.

(July 14th, 2024):Job completed at 3:33 AM in Isla’s home. Evidence destroyed and alibi created. Payment received from Paul.

Interesting that Paul was laundering money, but not surprising. Everybody knows casino owners harbor money. I guess people just always thought Paul was different, and legitimate.

Maybe Grizzly’s wrong about Paul. Maybe hedidn’thang himself to one-up Felix.

Maybe he just saw no way out.

Felix knew about the money laundering. Maybe he threatened to expose the secret if Paul didn’t hand over the cash.

I reread the sentence.Payment received from Paul.

Huh. He already paid for the assassination, so what’s the problem?

I snap a photo of the document, then place it back into the folder. The digital clock on the desk reads 10:15 PM. I should get back.

Rising from the seat, I turn to do so, but my feet run into another folder on the floor. It calls my name. The sensible thing would be to leave, but I’m too invested now. This isn’t the curated Felix Fernando that everybody else sees. These documents expose the real Felix Fernando. This guy didn’t work two jobs during college to fund his realtor ventures—that’s all bullshit. He night-shifted as an assassin and wove between the shadows every night night, killing for cash.

But he’s not just a seasoned killer.

He knows how to clean up too.

Records show that he’s not once been caught. Eighteen years, he’s been doing this dance, and still nobody suspectsanything. Over the years, he’s probably had investigative journalists on his back—when you’re in the public eye, conspiracy is guaranteed. Trouble is, the guy’s simply too powerful. All he has to do is channel some built-up resentment and pull the trigger.Bam!Man down. Evidence cleared.

Nerves bundle in my stomach as I squat to reach the folder.

Stakes are seriously high.

Zoe is right—Felix never loses.

I sit back down in the chair and open up the folder, expecting to see another collection of invoices. Instead I see a photograph. It must’ve been from school. It’s the annual grade photos they used to do before summer vacation, and Felix—it must be him—he’s the one with the funny-shaped head—stands at the end looking glum. He’s fully brunette here—no salt-and-pepper hair.

And he’s exactly what you’d imagine a victim of bullying to look like.

I turn to the next page. Scan my eyes up and down a birth certificate.

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