Page 116 of Shadowed Obsession

Of course, my flight doesn’t have Wi-Fi and my phone is on 6%. I swore I had everything packed, but I left my fucking charger. I’ll be using it to call and text to warn her until I get back.

Deirdre? Please wake up and get out of that house.

You need to leave the house.

Fine. I hate to bother you, but it’s not safe at home.

Dax has sent someone to follow us and he may come to find you.

Call me? Please, Doe. Please?

I’m boarding a plane and won’t be able to call for a bit.

Baby, please wake up. Fuck.

Please respond to me.

48/

goddammit, césar

Deirdre

10:59 p.m. | ‘the last, last incident’

Pollo guisadois simmering on the stove, but I’m not even hungry. I stupidly want to feel close to him and I slept all fucking day. My kitchen smells incredible, and I suppose it’s good that I’m cooking again, but I ran out of prepped meals from César so I have to.

It’s been almost two weeks since I learned the truth about him, and I’ve missed him every single day. I hate being in this situation because I wanted to believe him, but I can’t. Giving in and only seeing the good in people has burned me far too many times now.

People have always taken advantage of my kindness, but to learn everything about me and emulate the exact man I need? That’s evil, and I’ve seen evil. I don’t know that César’s intentions were always ill, my gut tells me otherwise. That the man he showed me he was, heis.

But I cannot overlook him working for the Hales. Not because it’s a job, but because he was violating my privacy to give them leverage to take something that’s important to me.

I wonder if wherever he is, he’s still watching me. A part of me wanted to take the cameras down and remove that access to me, but another part hopes he is still there. Not the private investigator Scar, but the man who removed his mask that night and bared himself to me. César.

He’s been consistent with texting me; sending photos from Puerto Rico of his family and the scenery. He’s sent voice messages so I can hear him and thecoquífrogs, even sent me pictures he’d taken of them. I do appreciate him for including me.

In spite of my anger, César is still thoughtful and kind. He always has been no matter what I dished out. That’s what makes it so much harder for me to accept that he betrayed me.

I wish things were different, and it’s like this realization unleashed something in me, because I don’t feel embarrassed to be a Klarke, knowing exactly what we’re up against.

As if the universe answered my question or he can read my mind, I hear a door open, and my heart skips a beat. I know I should’ve, but I didn’t change the locks yet.

The fact that Regina even wants to hire him is telling for his character.

I am still hurt, but am willing to hear him out now, if he wants to talk about it. I miss him so much, I’d gladly sit in silence.

“You’re just in time for dinner,” I say excitedly and am met with silence aside from creaking footsteps through the home.

I’ll do three coquí whistles so you’ll know it’s me.

My stomach drops at the possibility of it not being him, and my eyes scour the kitchen for anything that can be used as weapons. Of course, I used my good knives to prepare dinner, so they’re in the running dishwasher.

Fuck.

I have a gun down here, but it’s in my office by the door they just entered from. Another in my car, and there’s the collection locked in my bedroom. Once I felt safe with him, I stopped walking around the house strapped.

Fuck you for lowering my guard.

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