The Reckoning

The man's hand tightened around my throat.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. I clawed at his arm, desperate, my nails digging into his skin. He didn't flinch. He just squeezed harder.

"Please," I gasped. "Please—"

Elias screamed my name.

I heard him struggling, heard the grunt of the men holding him, heard the crack of a fist against bone. But it was all distant, muffled, like I was underwater.

Then the pressure stopped.

The man choking me grunted. His grip loosened. He staggered back, his hand going to his head.

I fell to the floor, gasping for air.

I looked up.

Elias was standing over the man, a heavy bronze statue in his hands. He'd broken free. He'd hit the man hard enough to send him crashing to the ground.

"Clara," he said, dropping to his knees beside me. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. I couldn't speak. My throat was raw. My body was shaking.

"Can you stand?"

"I think so."

He helped me up. I leaned against him, my legs unsteady.

His mother was still standing there, her face pale with shock.

"You," she said. "You would choose her over your own mother?"

"You stopped being my mother a long time ago," Elias said. "The moment you killed Elara. The moment you destroyed everything good in my life."

"She was nothing."

"She was everything." His voice cracked. "And you took her from me. You took Clara's mother. You took my future. You took everything."

He stepped toward his mother.

She backed away.

"Elias," she said. "Think about what you're doing."

"I've thought about it for twenty years." He stepped closer. "I've thought about it every day. Every night. Every time I closed my eyes and saw her face."

The second man the one I'd thrown the vase at was getting to his feet. He lunged at Elias.

Elias spun around and hit him with the statue. The man crumpled to the floor.

His mother turned to run.

I grabbed her arm.

She spun around, her hand swinging toward my face. I caught her wrist.

"You're not going anywhere," I said.

She stared at me. Her eyes were wild.

"You can't do this," she said. "You're nobody. You're nothing."

"I'm the woman who's going to make sure you spend the rest of your life in prison."

The police arrived twenty minutes later.

Elias had called them before we left for France. He'd told them everything his mother's location, her involvement in the murder, the threats. They'd been waiting for our signal.

They arrested his mother. They arrested the two men. They took statements. They collected evidence.

I sat on the front steps of the villa, wrapped in a blanket Elias had found, watching the sun set over the sea.

Elias sat beside me.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I will be."

He took my hand.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For everything. For my family. For my mother. For what she did to yours."

"You didn't do this."

"I know. But I'm still sorry."

I looked at him. His grey eyes were soft, tired, full of love.

"I love you," I said.

It was the first time I'd said it.

He blinked. His eyes glistened.

"I love you too," he said. "I've loved you since the moment I saw you in that club."

I leaned my head against his shoulder.

We sat there, watching the sun set, and for the first time in a long time, I felt peace.

The trial was held in Paris.

His mother was charged with conspiracy to commit murder, accessory to murder, and obstruction of justice. The evidence was overwhelming. The letter. The documents. The testimony of the two men who'd attacked us.

She was sentenced to life in prison.

I sat in the courtroom and watched her face as the judge read the verdict.

She didn't look at me. She didn't look at anyone.

She just stared straight ahead, her face cold and empty.

When it was over, I walked out of the courthouse into the sunlight.

Elias was waiting for me.

"It's done," he said.

"It's done."

He took my hand.

"What happens now?" he asked.

I looked at him. I thought about everything we'd been through the club, the penthouse, the wedding, the trial. I thought about my mother. I thought about the future.

"I don't know," I said. "But I'm not afraid anymore."

He smiled.

"Good."

We walked away together, hand in hand, into the rest of our lives.