Page 22 of Corrupted Empire

Outside, it is still raining.

9

Gabriel

Watching Alexis on the camera has become a guilty pleasure of mine, verging on addiction. With less work to do on a daily basis, I have more time to fill. And Alexis is just begging to be watched. She has started speaking to the cameras on a regular basis, like her life confined to the apartment is a reality show with an audience of one.

But she’s not really speaking to the cameras. She’s speaking to me.

She tells me about her days or shows me new things that Harry has learned. Sometimes she chastises me for refusing to speak to her, for leaving her alone despite having, in her mind, committed no crime. Other times she seems almost apologetic.

Today she is lying on her back on the couch, running a hand over her belly while ruminating on baby names.

“If you don’t provide any input, I’m going to name it something weird,” she says, glancing down the lens of the camera. “You know, like when celebrities name their kids after objects? I’m going to name our baby ‘Lanyard.’ It’s great because it works for a boy or a girl.”

I wrinkle my nose.

“I presume you’d want to choose an Italian name?” she says. “I don’t mind. I figure after I named our first child after my dead father, who turned out to be a psychopathic sadist, you get to name this one.”

Her brown hair lies like a silken curtain over the arm of the couch, and she is wearing a simple tank top and cotton lounge shorts. Even dressed simply, she looks like a wet dream, one long leg folded over the other.

“What’s going to happen after I give birth?” she asks, reaching down to stroke Harry’s head.

He is sitting on the floor, rolling a truck back and forth over the brown rug, completely unaware that his mother is talking to his absent father.

“Will I come back to live in the mansion with you? Or could we finally go live in that house you bought for us?” She smiles, looking down at Harry. “I have so many ideas for how I would decorate. I’ve been thinking that we could do the nursery in a cheery yellow so that it always feels like the sun is shining through the window.”

I can’t help but wonder if this is all an act—if Alexis is doing everything she can to reel me back in. Or maybe she’s sorry. Maybe she is trying to make amends for everything she did by painting a beautiful picture of the life we could have together as a family if only I could forgive her.

But I can’t. Not when I’m still so angry. Not when I can’t trust that this isn’t yet another one of her deceptions.

I force myself to close the feed. I could spend hours watching her, but what would that accomplish?

I go to the gym instead, pushing myself harder and harder, until the only thoughts that circle my mind are those of thirst and pain.

* * *

Silvano calls just as I sit down to do some work.

“What?” I answer.

Even after a punishing workout, a shower, and some lunch, I am still on edge. Alexis made it all sound so easy—I could just forgive her, and then we could raise our children together in domestic bliss. We could paint the nursery sunshine-yellow and get a dog and make pancakes with banana smiles and blueberry eyes on lazy Sunday mornings.

But I can’t have that. Not with Alexis. Not with anyone.

Silvano clears his throat. “Our contacts in the police have found Clara’s phone. It’s in a house in Tremont.”

“Send me the address.”

“There’s no guarantee she will be there,” Silvano says carefully. “This could be a trap.”

“It’s definitely a trap,” I snap. “But if there is a chance that we can rescue Clara, we need to take it.”

Only the most foolish kidnapper would keep their captive’s phone so it could be tracked. It annoys me that Silvano thinks I don’t know this.

“I would suggest that we leave this one to the police,” Silvano urges.

I understand his hesitance. Why would we put ourselves on the line to go save a girl who doesn’t belong to our organization?

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