JOREL AND GABE (II)

“You know I wouldn’t do that!” he spat. “I need the damn money. You’ve left me no choice. You’ve been manipulating me since I was a kid, taking my share of the inheritance.”

“You were never a victim, Jorel,” I said, my voice icy. “You’ve always known the value of money, even if you spent it chasing women. You sold your share because you wanted to—because you’ve never been all that bright.”

Jorel shook his head, visibly shaken, but flashed an ironic smile, trying to sound calm with every word. “I want to see you completely destroyed one day, Gabe. Tell me, were you really born from the same womb as me and Aneliese?”

“Actually, you were born from the same womb as me, not the other way around, you moron,” I said. “I was the first, in case you forgot. I took all the best from Mom’s womb: intelligence, cunning, strength.”

Jorel burst out laughing. I sighed, exhausted. Yes, I’d been an ass with those last words. Worse, I was arguing with my eight-years-younger brother like we were kids, as if he had the same maturity as me.

“Olivia’s an interesting girl,” he said, circling back to his future wife. “She doesn’t seem like a wallflower to me. I didn’t see anything insignificant about her. She’s funny, charming… and smart. And best of all, she wasn’t afraid of you.” He laughed, throwing his head back with smug satisfaction.

“Your job is simple, Jorel,” I said, my voice steady. “Marry her and live your life like she doesn’t exist.”

“I got it, Gabe,” he said. “Pretend she’s a rotten wallflower—the kind the market vendor tosses in the street because it’s too spoiled to sell. You want me to kick it across the road, shove it down a sewer, let it turn into compost. Fine, I can do that for money.”

“So, we have a deal?”

“You never considered marrying her yourself?” he asked. “Why pay someone when you could do it better than anyone?”

“You think I’d marry a nineteen-year-old girl?” I said, incredulous.

“Why not?”

“She’s a child!”

“As if you care!” he laughed. “You want me to ruin a child’s life!”

“She’s not a virgin, I’d bet on it,” I said.

“I meant ruin her life, not sleep with her,” he clarified.

“But it hasn’t crossed your mind not to sleep with her, has it?”

“You think I wouldn’t sleep with a girl like Olivia?” he said. “No way, Gabe. She’s entirely… edible.”

“See? That’s why I chose you for the dirty work.”

“Dirty work?” He laughed again. “You don’t even know what screwing is. I’ve never seen you with a woman. Unless… are you gay, Gabe?”

I shoved him hard, pinning him against the wall. My patience with this playboy was gone. “I’m not gay. I just don’t stick my dick in every hole I see, unlike you. I choose who I sleep with, and my private life is private, not an open book for the world.”

“I bet you don’t even kiss a woman after you finish in her mouth,” he taunted. “Probably think it’s ‘gross.’”

He was begging for me to lose it, to punch him square in the face and send him running to a dentist for an implant in the middle of the night. If I had to guess, he’d call Aneliese afterward, playing the victim, when all he deserved was a lesson.

I let him go, noticing the flicker of panic in his eyes, though he tried to act brave enough to stand up to me. “I hope you catch an STD and die from it,” I said calmly, praying my words had power.

“You own the world’s biggest pharmaceutical company,” he said. “You’d find a cure for me.”

“I’d have the active ingredient destroyed,” I replied.

Just like I did with the components of your future wife’s insulin, you idiot. If I did it to her, a nineteen-year-old girl whose only flaw is being the spawn of a monster, why wouldn’t I do it to you, a useless leech who’d only make the world better by dying?

“Sometimes I wonder if you say these things just to sound tough or if you actually think like this,” he said.

“I don’t say everything I think, Jorel,” I said, a smile creeping onto my face at the thought I’d just had. “In fact, I’m far kinder with my words than I could be.”

“I’m… leaving,” he said, looking rattled.

“Feel free,” I said. “But remember, this house isn’t yours, so don’t even think about staying the night.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to disturb your beauty sleep in one of your thirty-nine bedrooms, princess,” he said, winking and blowing me a kiss as he walked out. “I want a honeymoon in the Maldives.”

“No chance.”

“A private cabana. Buy some lingerie for Wallflower Stick. I think it’d be fun to take it off on our wedding night. And… maybe she could dress less colorfully, though I thought her outfit was cheerful. But something more… Mexico? Maybe Tulum for the honeymoon.”

“You’ll get a simple ceremony, as Wallflower Stick deserves,” I said. “But don’t worry, the whole family will be there—Cliffords and Aberttons alike.”

“I don’t know what this family did to you, Gabe,” he said, “but I feel sorry for them. Especially Olivia.”

“Don’t pity them,” I said. “I bet they wouldn’t pity you. Just like you’re doing this for money, so are they. Learn this, Jorel: everyone has a price.”

I turned and left, certain Jorel wouldn’t dare linger in the mansion. I didn’t live there either, but I hated sharing space with anyone. I loved my solitary life. Well, not entirely that night. I called my only friend, the one I’d known since childhood, the only person I trusted completely.

“Everything’s set,” I said. “The plan’s moving forward as intended. Jorel will marry the Abertton bastard, and even if the idiot showed a flicker of sympathy for her, I doubt he’ll stay faithful. He couldn’t.”

I heard Rael sigh on the other end of the line. “Gabe, after ten years, you’re finally getting where you always wanted.”

“Exactly,” I said. “As I’ve always told you, it didn’t matter how long it took—I’d get to Ernest Abertton’s heart. His bastard grew up, and the time has come.”

“And then?” Rael asked.

“Once he kills himself from grief and disappointment, I’ll finally be avenged. That is, if his little bastard doesn’t end her own life first.”

“And let’s say the daughter and parents are dead. What’s next?”

“Live.”

“Breathe,” Rael corrected. “You don’t know what living is, my friend.”

“Of course I do,” I shot back.

“You live for work 24/7, Gabe,” he said. “And in between, you’re busy plotting your revenge against Ernest. You don’t have fun.”

“I do,” I protested. “We went to the best club in the country last week!”

“And you spent the whole time on your phone screwing with the Aberttons’ lives,” he said. “Goddamn it, Gabe, nothing will bring Monica back. No matter what you do.”

“I’ll only be able to live again once I’ve avenged her, Rael,” I said. “Nothing in my life has meaning. It’s all just a blur. Monica’s gone, and she took my soul and heart with her. All that’s left is my body—a body that just breathes. The blood running through me isn’t warm anymore. I don’t even feel my heart beating because it’s not there. I had everything. I was happy. And because of Ernest Abertton, I lost my pregnant girlfriend and our child.”