Ch-52

•~•Aziel’s POV

I sat in the passenger seat of my car, parked just outside the hospital.

The windows were up, and I’d already dismissed my driver so I could take this call in private.

My fingers tapped once, twice against the door’s armrest before the line connected.

“I need you to get rid of Davian Foster,” I spoke immediately. “But first, trace everyone he’s been in contact with since he arrived in the country—especially within the last twenty-four hours.”

There was a pause. Then came a dry, faintly amused voice. “I'm guessing you'll tell me why I'd be doing you such a favor any moment now?”

My jaw clenched. I stared through the windshield, the fading sun turning the sky outside a dull gold. “He has a voice recording of me. Of us. Talking about Irene—about who she really is…”

“…And some other shit that can’t reach my mother or the public. He also has copies of the recording with a few of his so-called 'trusted men.'”

“Strange,” the voice said casually. “I thought you had the balls to handle him yourself. Or wasn’t that the whole point of kidnapping him?”

I froze.

My spine went rigid. “What?… How did you—”

“You sound surprised,” they said, smug. “Surprised I figured you out. Oh, Aziel… You’re clever, but not that clever.”

I inhaled hard, sharp through my nose. “Whatever…” I muttered, trying to sound unaffected.

“It was a simple mistake… No—” I corrected myself, jaw tight. “A wrong decision I made.”

“Potato, potahto,” the voice replied, amused. “Either way, you fucked up.”

“Yeah, I did… I thought he’d be scared enough to disappear and keep his damn mouth shut…”

“... If I’d known my mother’s fucking bodyguard would find him—and that he’d record our conversation at the hospital—I would’ve killed him on the spot that day.”

“But you didn’t,” the voice cut in, mocking.

They went on, tone too light for the weight of their words. “Funny, isn’t it? You always act like you’re five steps ahead, but one scared man with a recording has you sweating in a parked car…”

“Davian is now a ticking bomb you can’t defuse. One wrong move and he would explode—right with you in the blast. That’s why you’re crawling back to me. Me…the person you lied to when I asked if you were behind his kidnap.”

I frowned, glancing out the window and then at the rearview mirror before speaking, "How the hell do you know I'm talking to you from my car?”

“Just like you keep tabs on your precious Irene,” the voice said in a casual tone, “I keep tabs on you too, Aziel.”

I exhaled sharply, leaning back into the seat, trying to push away the discomfort of that last comment.

“So what?” I muttered. “Are you going to do it or not?”

Silence.

Long enough to make me want to crush the phone in my hand.

Then the voice returned, cooler now. “I’ll find out who he shared the recordings with.”

“And then?” I pushed, impatient.

“If you’re asking me to clean up the mess you made because you didn’t finish what you started…” there was a pause, then a flat reply came , “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I need Davian Foster alive—for now.”

My chest tightened. “Why?!” My voice cracked against the quiet in the car.

“You know he’s a damn threat—to Irene, to me, to whatever wicked plans you have set for my mother. So why the hell do you want him alive?”

“You’re right,” they said, voice calm. “He is a threat to you. And to Irene. But not to me. Not to what I want. I can still get my revenge on your mother… without either of you in the picture.”

My fingers curled around the phone. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, Aziel, stop being so impulsive. Relax. Let me handle this. And when the time’s right, I’ll take care of Davian Foster.”

I let out a short scoff. “Relax,” I repeated under my breath, almost laughing.

“You say you can get your revenge without me or Irene—and that it means I should just sit back and ‘relax’? But you know that’s a damn lie.” My voice dropped, each word harder than the last. “What you really meant is that we’re disposable, right?”

Silence. The caller didn’t respond.

I pressed on anyway. “Well, let me tell you something, Mr. or Ms. Anonymous. You’re just as disposable as anyone else, and I could ruin your entire revenge plan by telling my mother everything about you…”

“...Tell her there’s a coward hiding in the shadows trying to take her down.”

The line stayed quiet. Then, out of nowhere, the caller laughed. Cold. Detached.

When the laughter died, their voice turned low, mocking. “You silly boy... Go ahead, tattle to your mother. You think I care? You really think you can ruin my plans by doing that?”

"Well, just like you said, I'm hiding in the shadows. You don't know who I am, so warning your mother wouldn't change a thing. It'll only make her more paranoid. It won't stop me. It won't stop what's coming for her.”

The line went dead after that.

I lowered the phone from my ear, staring at it—no, glaring at it—as if it was the one that made me feel this rage, the one that boiled my blood.

I squeezed it in my hand, fighting the urge to smash it against the car’s window just to let some steam out.

“That bastard!” I muttered, the heat in my chest rising. “Who the hell do they think they are, speaking to me like that?”

They needed me, begged for an alliance to take down my mother, so how dare they turn around and make me feel disposable? Worthless?

Whoever they were—he or she—they were manipulative, unreliable, and truly only cared about themselves. Just like Davian.

I couldn’t trust them to help me keep Irene and her identity safe from my mother. If worse came to worst, they’d probably reveal everything just to ruin me.

And then there was Davian. Even if I paid him to keep quiet, that bastard didn’t seem like the type to stay silent. He’d talk. He’d ruin everything.

I couldn’t let either of them destroy everything for me, and I sure as hell couldn’t let Irene hear the truth from them first.

I dragged a hand through my hair, roughening it up, my breaths sharp and my shoulders tense.

At this point, I’d have to come clean to Irene—before it’s too late.