Chapter Fourty Eight

Amina

I slam the phone down so hard on the counter that my fingers sting. My whole body hums with rage, my chest tight with heat that doesn’t let up. Jake. Always Jake. Always soft when it comes to her. Kyla. The sister who was supposed to disappear five years ago.

I should have known when he didn't come home he was with her. 

I thought Kyla’s return would not affect us, but she had been back in town for less than week and she was wrecking havoc in my life, I was not going to sit by and just let her. 

I pace around the kitchen, the marble floor cold under my bare feet, but nothing cools the fire running through me. He had the nerve, the actual nerve to tell me she and her brats are staying in the country house. Our country house. My jaw clenches so hard it hurts.

“Where are you going?” my mother’s voice floats from the living room, but I don’t answer. I grab my keys, sling my coat over my shoulders, and push the door open.

“Amina!” she calls again, sharper this time.

“I’m going for a drive,” I snap back, the lie rolling off my tongue as smoothly as breath. I don’t look back. If I do, she will see it on my face. She’s always been too good at reading me. And then she would blame me as usual for doing a horrible job getting rid of Kyla. 

The cool evening air hits me as I stride to the car. My hands tremble as I jam the keys into the ignition, but it isn’t fear it’s anticipation. 

Five years. Five years since I made the call. Since I whispered my sister’s name to the man who promised me she would never bother me again.

I remember it vividly: the way my stomach twisted, the way my heart pounded, but the way my voice stayed steady. Because I couldn’t let her keep taking everything from me. Daddy’s attention, Jake’s eyes, even the scraps of sympathy people tossed our way. Kyla always had a way of stealing what I needed most.

But she wasn’t supposed to come back. She was supposed to be dead, he sent prove that she was dead. 

The city lights blur past as I drive, the world outside nothing but streaks of color while my mind races. Rage, fear, calculation. I grip the steering wheel tighter, forcing myself to breathe evenly.

When I pull into the dimly lit parking lot of an old bar on the outskirts of town, the weight in my chest grows heavier. I cut the engine, and for a second, I just sit there. My reflection stares back at me from the rearview mirror perfect makeup, perfect hair, the perfect wife and mother. No one would ever guess what I’ve done.

I get out, the click of my heels against the cracked pavement echoing louder than I’d like. My eyes dart to the far corner where he’s already waiting, just a shadow leaning against a black sedan. My stomach flips, the past rushing up to choke me, but I push it down. I came here for answers.

“You are late,” his voice rumbles as I approach. He hasn’t changed much. Same broad shoulders, same scar cutting across his jawline. Time has only made him look harder.

“You are lucky I came at all,” I snap, pulling my coat tighter around me.

He smirks, lighting a cigarette. The orange glow flares against his face. “Still got that fire in you. Guess that runs in the family.”

My teeth grit. “Don’t talk about her like you know her.”

He blows smoke into the air, lazy, unbothered. “You paid me good money to know her. To make sure she wasn’t a problem anymore.”

My nails dig into my palms. “Then explain to me why she is back. Why she is in my life again. Why Jake just told me she is living in the country house with her her children, you promised me she was dead.”

For the first time, his eyes sharpen, the amusement slipping. “Children?”

“Yes,” I hiss. “Two of them. A girl and a boy. Don’t look so surprised.”

He exhales slowly, tapping ash onto the ground. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

My stomach twists. His tone is too careful, too deliberate. “What are you saying?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He studies me, like he’s peeling back my skin, digging into the part of me I keep hidden from everyone else. Finally, he says, “If she has kids, it means she wasn’t as gone as you wanted. I did what I could. But you? Maybe you underestimated her.”

The words hit like ice water poured over my head. My body goes cold even as anger flares hotter. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No, you don’t understand. She wasn’t supposed to survive. I made sure”

“You made sure of nothing,” he cuts in, his voice low, gravelly. “You paid me to take care of her. I did. But some people are harder to erase than others. Looks like your sister’s one of them.”

The air between us crackles with tension. My pulse hammers, fear and fury tangling until I can barely tell them apart. I want to scream, I want to claw at him, I want to make him fix this.

Instead, I swallow hard and lift my chin. “Then you will try again.”

His smirk returns, slow, cruel. “That will cost extra.”

I glare at him, but I don’t argue. Because as much as it sickens me, he’s right. Kyla’s presence is a threat to my marriage, to my son’s future, to everything I have built. And I can’t let her take it away. Not again.

I force my voice steady. “Fine. Just make sure this time, she stays gone.”

"What about the children, what do you want me to do with them?" 

"I don't care just get the job done."