Page 44 of The Villain's Captive (The Villain's Duet 1)

“Your grandfather,” I started again, “knowing the life of a mafioso, the dangers, the threats, he never married.”

“But how—”

I silenced her with a glare. “This would go much faster if you’d just shut up and listen.”

“Sorry.” She bit her lip, and I had to fight the urge to leap across the goddamn table so I could be the one to bite that enticing as fuck bottom lip of hers.

“Gianni fell for a girl, but he knew loving her would send her to an early grave. So, he did the noble thing and left without knowing she was pregnant.”

She glanced down, and I could see in the look on her face ten new fucking questions just popped into her head.

I poured her more wine, knowing she needed it, then filled my own glass. “Gianni eventually found out about his son—”

“My father,” she breathed.

“But knowing he had a son made him more determined to keep his distance.”

Charlotte tightened her crossed arms, resentment swirling in the blue hues of her eyes. “What kind of man does that? Deliberately staying away from his own flesh and blood?”

“The kind of man who puts their safety above his own need to know his son. The kind of man who spends every day of his life missing the memories he never had of a son he didn’t know. A son who ended up being nothing more than a drunk. A man who abandoned his wife while she was pregnant.” I leaned my head to the side, watching her face, her expression. “A man who got stabbed in a drunken brawl and died on the pavement outside a whorehouse.”

Charlotte’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her jaw clenched and eyes shimmering with tears she was determined to bite back. There were so many other ways for me to tell this part, to lighten the blow of her father’s death. But the truth was, no matter how you tried to ease your way around the cold, hard reality, it still fucking hurt. It was best just to rip the Band-Aid off and let it bleed.

She looked away, staring out the closed stacking doors which shielded us from the cold night air. I wanted us to have dinner out on the deck tonight, but the weather proved to be a dick.

I remained silent for a while, giving her some time to digest the fact the father she had never known was dead, and all hope of ever meeting him was gone.

“I’m an orphan,” she said softly before taking a deep breath, appearing to steel herself. “Lucky for me, you can’t mourn something you never had. He might as well never have existed.”

I settled back. “That doesn’t make him any less real, Charlotte.”

It had been weeks. Maybe days. Maybe years.

I didn’t know.

I didn’t care.

They had locked me in my room, pretended I was crazy while I rocked myself in the corner staring at the wall Roland had thrown Ellie against.

At least, the wall I thought he had thrown Ellie against. That was if Ellie even existed.

According to them, I was crazy. I didn’t have a sister named Ellie, only a stepsister. Harley.

Every day, Roland would come in here with a tray of food, suddenly caring enough to feed me. He’d be dressed up real nice, pretended to be concerned about my well-being, reminding me how broken my mind was.

Every day, he’d say the same thing, like a rhyme, over and over again. ‘You’re different, Elijah. Your mind works differently than a normal person’s would. It’s unique, but broken. And this Ellie person you say is your sister, she’s not real.”

Oh, but she was. Her face was as real to me as the bullshit that oozed out of his mouth. I didn’t tell him that, though. I soon learned that fighting him, screaming Ellie’s name, earned me another prick in the arm, and then…darkness.

I hadn’t seen my mom since the day she betrayed me by taking Roland’s side, both of them pretending and insisting I was crazy. She shattered something in me that day, and the part in me that felt, the part that hurt so damn much I could hardly breathe…I shut it off. I compartmentalized and shoved it back in my mind, making sure it would never surface again.

Knowing her, she was probably high, drunk, or passed out.

It was a Sunday morning, and the only reason I knew that was because of the church bells that rang and chimed for what seemed like hours. But apparently, my mind was too broken even to be annoyed by it.

Keys rattled, and the doorknob turned, but I didn’t even bother to turn and look, knowing it was Roland bringing me my first and only meal of the day.

The hinges squeaked as the door creaked open. “Elijah, I have someone here who would like to see you.”

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