24

Chapter 24

Martin's Pov

The afternoon weather was chilled and calm just the way I've always wanted it to be. But today seemed different. Yesterday's party made me real money, cool dollars but still I feel a big hole inside my heart. I was tensed that something was about to happen and it'd cause my ruin.

Adrian Martinez...

Paranoid weighs over me everyday especially when I remember Adrian. It felt like everything I had worked so hard to build was about to fall apart because of a woman that I thought I had succeeded to ruin not just that and wanted her rot in jail three years ago.

When I walked into the living room, Amelia was on the couch, calm and comfortable, holding a wine glass in one hand and her phone in the other.

She's still comfortable without knowing that her cousin, the one we succeeded to send to jail, the same person who paid to be eliminated with her child during childbirth is out of prison, roaming like a free person in the city. Potentially unaware of threatening everything we had established.

"We need to talk about something, it's serious," I said, taking the phone from her grip.

She looked up with bleary eyes but calm. It wasn't even time for lunch yet and she's half-tipsy. "About what?"

"About Adrian."

The sound of the name made her sit up, a bit of clarity returning to her expression. "What about her?"

"Carlos confirmed it. She’s been out for four months." I began to pace to and fro the room, anxiety ran through me like a swarm of bees. "Four months, Amelia. And we’re just hearing about it now."

Amelia took another drink, seemingly unfazed. "So what? She's probably just scraping by. That’s the fate of ex-cons."

"That’s what I thought," I countered, stopping in front of her. "Until I saw this picture."

"What picture?"

I pulled up the haunting image on my phone—Adrian with Darcy Rodrigo and a little girl who looked oddly familiar. "This one. She works for this billionaire or so I thought."

Amelia squinted at the screen, her indifference shifting to sharper awareness. "That's... Darcy Rodrigo. I've seen him in the society news."

"Exactly." The implications made my stomach twist. "Adrian isn't powerless anymore. She has connections. We need to find out everything about her so we won't skip important details and make mistakes. What is she up to? The connection between Darcy and the little girl in this picture,what kind of work she offers to Darcy, where she’s currently living, we need to figure that out too... and also what she knows, if she's a threat."

"Are you being paranoid right now?" Amelia asked, although I noticed uncertainty in her voice.

"I'm being careful to avoid silly mistakes. There's a difference." I reclaimed my phone. "The mistake we made three years ago is not killing her in that hotel room, we left her thinking she'd rot in jail but now the reverse was the case. I’m calling Cole. He can find out what we need to know since he was the person that gave me the initial information."

Cole picked up on the third ring, his gravelly voice tinged with surprise. "Martin. You called."

"I need information on someone—Adrian Martinez. You said she was out on parole, and I want to know everything about her current situation."

"Adrian Martinez," Cole repeated thoughtfully. "Why does that name ring a bell?..."

"Because you assisted me in framing her three years ago." I spoke quietly, aware Amelia was listening. "She took the blame for a deal that went wrong."

"Right, oh oh... your pretty girl." I could hear his amused smile. "Sorry I forgot, I was working on something. So what do you want?"

"Everything. I sent you a picture now,find out what work she offers to the man in that picture. Where she lives, who she’s associated with. There's a child involved, a little girl in her care. I need information on her too."

"Give me forty-eight hours," Cole replied.

"I need it in twenty-four hours. This is urgent."

"That’ll cost extra."

"I don’t care. Just get it done." I ended the call, feeling some pressure lift now that I was taking action.

But then Cole called back almost immediately.

"What’s up?" I answered.

"Before I start digging, I need to know—what’s your angle here, man?" He sounded curious. "Why do you want to track down Adrian after all this time? Like after three whole years, man? I’ve heard rumors and side talks about you two but never got the full story."

His question pissed me off, like he was poke nosing a lot. "Does it matter?"

"Just making chit-chat. You frame a girl for drug trafficking, she does time, and now you want to find her. That piques curiosity."

I could have revealed the truth, that Adrian had been useful, naive, perfect for taking the fall. That she had loved me unconditionally, making her easy to manipulate. That ruining her had been almost too easy because of her trust in me.

But I didn’t owe Cole that story.

"She was my girlfriend," I said flatly. "She got involved with the wrong people and carried drugs. They imprisoned her. Simple as that."

"Your girlfriend whom you framed."

"She made her choices."

"Right." Cole didn’t seem convinced, but he knew not to press further. "Twenty-four hours. I’ll text you what I find."

The call ended, leaving me alone with my thoughts and Amelia’s gaze.

"What?" I snapped.

"Nothing," she replied, though her expression was calculating. "Just curious if you ever feel remorse for what we did to her."

"No." The lie rolled off my tongue effortlessly. I had stopped feeling guilty about Adrian years ago, if I ever had at all. "She was just a tool. That's all."

But as I said it, an uncomfortable twist gripped me. Not guilt, exactly, but something akin to it—a memory of Adrian in that prison visiting room, desperate and pregnant, begging me not to marry Amelia.

I laughed, revealing that night’s truth and watching hope die in her eyes. I left her screaming, giving birth in a prison hospital with only guards around.

The guilt didn’t last. She let herself be used, believing in love. That was her mistake, not mine.

I exited the house, needing breathing space away from Amelia’s knowing stare. Frustration had built all day, growing with every step.Everything felt chaotic, and I hated not knowing what would happen next.

Adrian was not just free, she was now connected to influential people. And I have no idea if she knows the truth.

When I returned home hours later, I was so tense, exhausted. The penthouse was dim, with soft music playing in the living room.

Amelia was busy smoking cigarettes with empty wine bottles on the table which she had consumed.

The sight of her—drinking and smoking, squandering her life, makes my blood boil.

"Are you kidding me right now?" I snatched the cigarette from her mouth, and lit out its fire. "It’s not even evening and you’re completely wasted."

She shot me a glare through bleary eyes. "Don't start, Martin."

"How can you be this unreasonable?," I asked, frustration spilling over in a torrent. "You’re wasting your life. Drinking, smoking, and doing nothing of worth."

"Useful?" She rose, wobbling slightly. "You want to talk about something useful? I helped you frame my own cousin. I lied to the police, visited her in prison just to gloat. What more do you want from me?"

"I want you to mean something!" I shouted, my words echoing through the penthouse. "I want you to be more than a stupid drunkard who adds nothing!"

She aimed to slap my face, but I held her hand before she kissed me. We connected. Tension buzzing in the air.

Breathing heavily

Then something shifted. The anger turns into pleasure, burning desires.

Her gaze locked with mine, and I noticed the same desire coursing through me reflected in her eyes. She loves being intimate when she gets angry.

The confrontation faded, as it always did between us, into something else entirely—I unzipped her clothes, dropping it down to the floor, kissing her recklessly, tracing every part of her body, gently biting all her sensitive parts of her body.

She loves sex barely containing violence. She gives the best blowjobs at this time. This was our way of communication, resolving conflicts, reminding each other why we remained together despite our frequent loathing.

It was toxic and destructive, likely killing us both, but at that moment, I was indifferent to it all.

---

At 1am sleep had cleared from my eyes. I saw Amelia sleeping beside me, the sheets tangled. Sleep had left—my mind raced with plans and the usual, nagging anxiety.

I stared at the ceiling, thinking about Adrian, the photo of her with Darcy Rodrigo and the little girl who looked strangely familiar.

What did Adrian know? Had she unraveled the complete scope of my actions against her? Did she realize I had sold her virginity to the man who had paid a fortune for the privilege to take her for the first time while she was drugged and vulnerable?

Did she know that man was Darcy Rodrigo?

The deal had been conducted through intermediaries, anonymous and untraceable. But the timing fits. Three years ago. A wealthy businessman willing to pay exorbitantly. The same man who currently employed Adrian as a nanny for his daughter.

It couldn’t be a mere coincidence.

If Adrian didn’t understand that Darcy was the one who had paid for her virginity, then I held leverage—details that could ruin them both if I played my cards right. Darcy Rodrigo, CEO and community figure, had once paid to violate an unconscious woman. That kind of scandal would ruin him.

But I required more. One piece of blackmail might yield gains, but it wasn’t sufficient. I needed multiple angles to pressure Darcy, ways to extract wealth from him before anyone caught wind of my plans.

I needed items that would bring significant money—things that would secure my future and neutralize any threat Adrian posed.

My mind whipped through possibilities, schemes forming and disintegrating as I sought the perfect plan. Cole would deliver intel tomorrow. Then I would know where Adrian lived, her vulnerabilities, and how to approach her if necessary.

And if she became a nuisance, well... I had managed to eliminate her once before. I could do it again.

This time for good.