Chapter Twenty-Three
932 Words
"What did you find?" Jairo asked into the phone.
"It's your dad." Donald's voice came from the other end.
The words landed like a punch. His grip on the phone grew harder, pressing into the wound on his arm but he didn't even flinch at the pain.
Donald continued, "The investigation went too easy, almost like he wanted you to believe Anthonio was truly behind it. Since that old cunt stole the port codes, your father knew you would fall for it. But someone called the number we tracked from the captive's phone, and it led us to one of your father's men. He set this up to delay the shipment so his campaign stays clean. Without you on the news, his election goes smoothly."
He pressed his lips together, forcing his face blank. His father's games were nothing new, but this was lower than he thought he had ever stoop.
"What do we do, boss?" Donald broke through his thoughts.
He let out a slow exhale, "The shipment moves a day before the election."
"Got it."
The line went dead.
He dropped the phone on the table and pressed both palms against it. His chest heaved as he tried to keep the storm inside from showing. If the man could kill his own wife, plotting against his own blood should be nothing new. After a while, he pulled himself together and walked out.
Kara was still where he left her on the veranda. The moment she spotted him, her lips curved into a soft smile.
"Can you show me the way to the kitchen? You need to eat something," she asked warmly. She didn't notice the tension in his eyes.
"I'm not really hungry," he murmured, almost too quietly.
She tilted her head, frowning at the lack of his usual confidence. She was about to ask what was wrong when he spoke.
"The person who shot me has been caught."
Her shoulders dropped in relief. "Really? That was fast. They're at the police station, right?"
He gave her a small, humorless laugh. "It doesn't work that way."
She frowned. "Why not? They should pay for what they did to you."
He finally turned to her, "Let me ask you something instead."
She leaned on the railing, waiting.
"If you had the chance to do something big... something that could give you fame and money... would you take it, even if it meant hurting someone you care about?" his eyes read her every reaction.
The question sank heavy in her chest. Her mind instantly jumped to Grace's deal - fame, recognition, success... but at the cost of his trust.
"How hurt are we talking?" she asked carefully.
"Bad enough they'll never forgive you."
She hesitated then she shook her head. "I wouldn't. I won't take that job."
He raised a brow. "Even if it brings you everything you've ever wanted?"
"Greed always comes with a price. But I can't sacrifice someone dear to me. If I had to make a decision, I would rather make them understand why I did it."
His gaze softened for a moment at her answer, but his next words were cold. "Some decisions can't be forgiven."
A lump formed when she heard him. She could relate with that one.
"Yeah." she whispered, "Like abandoning an eight-day-old baby at an orphanage's doorstep. I don't think I could forgive that either." her quiet laugh followed.
He studied her closely, even though she was trying to shrug it off. The pain was evident in the way she bit lips. While he on the other hand, would prefer to be an orphan than to have a family.
Seeing her smile faintly, he couldn't help but smile back. She had shared a piece of her past without him even asking, and it touched something deep inside him.
She quickly cleared her throat, "Alright, let's go back to my first question. Can you show me the way to the kitchen? We both need food, and you need to put something on before you catch a cold."
She walked ahead before he could respond, and he followed, his eyes trailing down her legs. Her skin looked pale under the soft lights, and her blue dress hugged her frame just enough to tease his mind.
"You like blue?" he asked without thinking. She turned with a bright smile and nodded.
He gave a small shrug to his own thoughts. Blue instead of pink... not bad.
When they reached the kitchen, he sat back on a chair while she started pulling ingredients from the cupboards. He leaned against the counter, watching her move around with a quiet focus.
"What are you making?" he asked.
She grinned playfully. "Beef stroganoff with egg noodles."
His brows rose slightly. "That's... a lot."
"Yeah. If there are no egg noodles, we'll switch to rice or pasta." she peeked into the fridge, her shoulders dropping when she couldn't find mushrooms.
He noticed the little pout on her lips, the way she pressed them to the side. His mouth curved faintly. She looked cute when she was disappointed, her mole making the expression even more endearing.
"We'll just order it," he said softly to console her. "I appreciate you wanting to cook, but it's too much stress."
She shook her head. "Nah, I want to. You're hurt and someone has to take care of you. Let me just order the mushrooms online."
She moved to grab her bag, but he stopped her. "I will order it." but she insisted with a little smile and told him to put on his clothes instead.
- Writer
