Divorced And Married To The Wrong Twin

Chapter 11 - The Truth

ROMAN

My hands curled into vengeful fists as I watched my phone ring. The caller ID made my blood boil, and anger coursed through me in fiery waves. The last time he called was five years ago. What did he want now?

The phone stopped ringing and restarted almost immediately. Unwillingly, I clicked the accept button.

For a few seconds, there was total silence on the other end. He wasn’t saying a word, and I obviously would have preferred not having a conversation with him. I had already picked up my phone, ready to disconnect the call, when his voice reverberated.

“Roman, are you there?” Nolan, my brother, asked.

It had been twelve years, and his voice still sent chills down my spine. Even the slightest movement from him still caused turmoil within me.

Clenching my jaw, I husked, “I’ll hang up if you don’t tell me why you decided to disturb my peace.”

“This isn’t the way you talk to a brother you haven’t spoken to in years,” his calm voice echoed. It sounded like he had a huge grin on his face while uttering those words.

“It would be better if you ceased to exist, Nolan. You know I want that more than anyone else,” I retorted harshly. One thing I would never do was pretend to like Nolan. He knew how much I hated him. Everyone did. But he wouldn’t stop smiling. That bastard. Even when I wanted him to crack, he didn’t. He still wished me well with that silly, disgusting smile on his face. Maybe that was what made my hatred increase. His hypocrisy irritated me so much.

“You still hate me, Roman,” he breathed out. “Is there no way to rekindle things between us? Let’s mend the burned bridge, Roman. We’re brothers, for goodness’ sake.”

I snorted. “Rekindle things? Mend bridges? Those have to be the funniest things I’ve heard in a while, Nolan,” I mumbled with curled lips, mockery vivid in my tone.

“Roman.”

“Why have you called?” I cut him short, not sure I could stand listening to him for another minute.

He inhaled sharply. “Our parents,” he said. “How are they? I don’t know why I can’t get through to them since I left the country. How are Father and Mother?”

I hissed, elbowing the table and kneading my brows with my other hand. “It’s not a murderer’s place to ask about them. And I don’t think they have anything to say to a criminal, Nolan.”

There was a pause on the other side for a few seconds. My statement must have hit him. My lips curled into a victorious smile. That was what I wanted—to haunt him and remind him of his tainted reputation.

“You know the truth, Roman,” he eventually spoke up, breaking the silence.

I scoffed. “The truth is whatever I say it is, Nolan. Don’t forget. Twelve years ago, those same words sent you to a place—”

“Roman!” he snapped, but his voice wasn’t rude or threatening until he said the next statement. “You know the truth and how destructive it is. Don’t make me—”

“f**k you, Nolan,” I cussed, putting the speaker closer to my mouth. “I repeat, f**k you, Nolan. I don’t care if your truth is destructive or dangerous. It can’t set you free anymore anyway,” I spat, straightening up.

“Calm down, Roman. I’m sorry for making it sound like a threat,” his tone turned calm and apologetic. “I just want to know about Father and Mother. It’s been twelve years, Roman… twelve years since I last saw them.”

“They don’t need you looking for them, bastard. Stay over there and stop asking about them,” I growled. “Nobody wants to associate with a murderer,” I added, and before he could respond, I clicked the red button and disconnected the call.

Hissing, I tossed the phone onto the table and raked my fingers through my hair. Veins popped out on my neck and hands. Nolan. Nolan… how dare Nolan! He thought he could threaten me with the truth? Who would believe him after so many years? Nobody. Just like twelve years ago.

A snort escaped my mouth as I rubbed my temple. He had some nerve, I must confess. He suddenly called to threaten me? There was no way this was just a coincidence. There had to be something else.

With trembling hands, I picked up my phone and called a number. It was answered on the third ring.

“Hello, bo—”

“Did you notice any change in Nolan?” I went straight to the point, not in the mood for formalities.

“Nolan, your brother?” he asked. “No, boss. There hasn’t been any change in him. He’s still the same foolish brother who frequents clubs and gets beaten every f*****g time.”

For a few seconds, I tried to connect his report to the attitude Nolan displayed on the phone, but I found nothing. Maybe I was just being paranoid and overly cautious.

For twelve years, he had been living recklessly after what happened. There was no way he could suddenly get his life back on track.

“Okay. Let me know if there’s any change,” I told him. “Any change. No matter how little it is.”

“Okay, boss.”

The call ended afterward. I dropped the phone and stared at the door.

Nolan shouldn’t come back. I’d make sure he didn’t, even if it required recreating that dreary incident.