Page 53 of The Russian's Forced Bride
If she knew the lengths Joaquin was taking to destroy us, she’d be heartbroken—and I couldn’t bear seeing her more traumatized.
“But this video is the least of our problems, Boss,” Maxim remarked, and then eyed Cassandra from the corner of his eye.
Cassandra seemed to feel his eyes burning into the side of her face, and she ran a hand through her hair.
“I didn’t think it was important to tell you, but Maxim insisted it was,” she began by saying, pushing herself forward so she was now sitting upright and back to being professional.
“I found a secret bank account that gets a lot of money from Joaquin. It’s hidden offshore and hard to trace. To be honest, I didn’t even want to follow the trail I found, but then something kept bugging me.” Her brows furrowed as she seemed to be recounting the memory in her head.
“The account happens to be under the name Matero Saavedra.”
I cocked my aching head to the side with a raised brow. “But Mateo Saavedra’s dead. Joaquin’s nephew died years back.”
Cassandra nodded, tapping her fingers on her lap. “He’s supposed to be, but who knows? This is Joaquin we’re talking about. I assume he’s probably using the account to launder money—and then the pattern I traced showed a flow of money that was consistent.”
“Deliberate,” Maxim chimed in. “This account is heavily shielded through crypto exchanges and shell companies. Whoever this Mateo Saavedra is, Joaquin is either protectinghim or using him, but I’m certain there’s someone at the other end of that account—and it’s not Joaquin.”
A strange feeling tugged at my insides at the revelation because it almost felt as though I knew exactly what they were talking about. I couldn’t just place my finger on what it was. I delved into my memories, trying to piece some things together, but the more I thought, the more my head ached, making me curse in response.
Mateo Saavedra wasn’t actually dead, was he?
And I reckoned he was the rat who had inserted himself close to me, carefully monitoring my every move.
I hadn’t had the chance to catch a glimpse of who had run my car over, but something in my gut told me whoever was in that car was the answer to the mystery rat.
“He’s alive,” I stated, positively sure that I wasn’t wrong. “That fucker’s nephew is alive.” I looked from Cassandra to Maxim, who shared concerned looks.
Joaquin’s nephew had died as a child almost eight years ago, so it was hard to pinpoint what he would look like now as an adult.
But I had accounted for the identities of everyone I knew, so it wasn’t hard to narrow it down to one person.
I swore under my breath just as Maxim’s phone buzzed in his suit jacket. He took out the phone as my attention moved to him—he seemed to be reading something, a message perhaps—and with each passing second, his expression hardened.
“Joaquin’s got a message for you. It’s an audio,” he then said, raising his head so he was looking straight into my eyes.
“Play it,” I ordered, and Maxim nodded.
Joaquin’s voice rang out from the speaker of Maxim’s phone, his Spanish accent thick as he said, “Tell your boss the next accident will be fatal if he comes in my way again.”
It was a genuine threat, and Cassandra’s face paled in response—but to me, it was a fucking dare. I found myself chuckling in response to his stupid threat.
He had no idea what was coming his way.
And I sure as hell loved to play games.
Chapter 18 – Arlette
I’m so stupid.
So stupid for believing that just maybe I was wrong about the kind of man Rafael was. He never regarded me with anything other than lust and condescension, and I was a fool for thinking I meant anything special to him.
That man had succeeded at crawling his way into my heart and making sure there was no way I could function without him. He manipulated me into developing these disgusting feelings for him.
I hated him so much, he had no idea. I wished a shard from his wrecked car had pierced his head so he could be gone forever. Mourning him seemed better than having to feel like this.
This was worse than a breakup because I couldn’t run from him even if I wanted to.
I sat curled up on the living room sofa, wearing an oversized hoodie that covered the slight bump that was starting to form on my stomach.
