Page 133 of Sins of the Orchid
I stared at the face, now barely two feet away from me. The man that killed my mother. He was younger than I thought. It was the first time since that frightful night all those years ago that I’d seen him up close. Oh, how the roles were reversed! He was the one that would die today. Though from the looks of it, someone already got to him. His face was beaten and his left eye swollen shut.
He looked like shit.
“Ulrich Anderson,” I rasped, my voice shaking. I’d like to think it was because my ears still rang from the earlier explosion, but I knew it wasn’t. So many conflicting emotions swirled through my soul.
Make this man pay.
It is not right to be judge and jury.
Make him pay.
The voices screamed in my mind. Why was I hesitating? DeAngelo wasn’t. With a sadistic smile, he punched Ulrich in his side, where he was already wounded. The man looked like he had already been tortured.
With a startling realization, I noted the man was crying. He was crying, his entire body shaking violently, whimpers and saliva leaving his mouth. He was pathetic. The cruel man, who ordered men to torture my mother while he watched passively detached, suddenly seemed like a fraud. Not worth my nightmares.
And just like that, years of hungering for revenge dissipated. He didn’t deserve to live, but I wouldn’t stoop to his level. From the looks of it, someone already gave him a taste of his own medicine.
“DeAngelo,” I called out to my bodyguard, who has been with me through so much.
He immediately paused his punching, his eyes seeking out mine.
I returned my gaze to Ulrich. “I want to know why?” I asked in a firm tone while my insides shook. The havoc and battle stirred all around us but in my mind, we were alone. The world faded into the background as I stared at him.
He has his father’s eyes, the thought hit like lightning. So did his brother, the one that Santi killed.
“Why?” I demanded again, never raising my voice.
His eyes bore into me, and I saw resignation in them. He had no fight remaining inside of him.
“Your grandfather promised to sign over the Perèz Cartel to the Andersons. Marriage of your mother to my father was supposed to be a merger. He lied.”
My brows creased. “But your father was a textile biologist, not—” His maniacal laugh broke through the air and a glimpse of a sadistic smile curved his lips. This was the man I remembered from all those years ago.
“He was a biologist alright, but textile was the furthest thing he conjured. Your mother ran the fashion empire while my father ran the cartel, but only while he was married to her. Breaking that marriage took the power away.”
“Breaking the marriage?” What the hell was he talking about?
“Your mother wanted a divorce,” he choked out, blood trickling down the side of his mouth. The scent of ash, gunpowder, and decay mixing in my nostrils. “She led him to believe he was your father. Until she was done with him.”
Jesus Christ!Did I know my family at all? I didn’t remember any of it. Not a single fight or disagreement between George and Mom.
He cackled, his laugh taunting, but immediately started to choke. “She never thought he’d have the balls to get rid of you or her,” he rasped, his voice choked up. “She was wrong, on both accounts.”
So damn wrong! And I walked right into George’s trap.
“Your father, is he alive?” I questioned him.
“No.” He only hesitated for a fraction of a second, but it was answer enough. “I fucking hated your guts. Your mother’s and yours.”
My heart clenched in my chest. The hate in his voice was hard to miss. What could I have done to him to hate us so much? “My father got rid of my mother so he could marry yours,” he spat out. How ironic! His father dumped his mother and he blamed us… he should aim his hate at his father.
“Maybe you should have taken that up with your father,” I deadpanned, hiding all my emotions. All this was sickening me. “But now you won’t have a chance. Any final words I should relay?” I asked, hoping he’d fall for the trap.
“He’s dead,” he hissed, but his eyes darted away from me for a fraction as he told me that lie. “You know what that means, don’t you?” he taunted.
I shouldn’t play into it but curiosity prevailed.
“What?”
