Page 109 of His Forced Irish Mafia Bride

My father’s name. Father Michael’s voice. The way everything had been spoken like simple facts. But it didn’t feel like facts.

It felt like something was breaking inside me. Heat rose in my chest, fast and sharp. My entire life had been built around something I hadn’t understood until yesterday. I sat back down after a moment, but nothing inside me felt settled.

The words hung in the air between us. I could still hear the way he’d said “survival,” like it explained everything.

Something in me had changed while he spoke. I looked at him again.

He carried himself like the lies had weighed on him for too long. That didn’t erase what he’d done. It didn’t excuse it. But it made it harder to be angry at him.

“I don’t understand how you lived with it,” I said quietly. My voice was steady, but low. He didn’t answer at first.

“I didn’t,” he finally said.

Simple words, almost too simple, but I believed him. Anger and understanding sat side by side, neither cancelling the other out. I looked down at the pew in front of me.

Old wood. Solid and real.

“I can see it,” I said, more to myself than to him. “The pressure. The choices. The way fear makes things turn dirty.”

I stopped there. I didn’t like that I could not understand it at all. My father gave a small nod, like he understood what I wasn’t saying. I lifted my hand slightly and walked out of the church.

The air outside felt normal, butIdidn’t feel normal. My father’s words were still in my head.

I stood for a moment on the steps and looked around. People were walking, cars were moving, life was going on like nothing had changed. But everything had changed for me. I held my bag tighter and started walking.

Each step felt lighter than the last. I still didn’t like what I’d heard in the church. I still didn’t accept all of it. But I understood more now.

That was the difference. I understood why things had happened the way they did. I understood the pressure behind it. I understood the choices hadn’t been simple.

It didn’t make it right. But it made it real. I reached the car and stopped before opening the door. I looked down for a second.

My hands were steady now. That surprised me.

Because inside, I still felt pain. I still felt anger. I still felt like something in my life had been broken.

But I knew where I was going next. Sean. I didn’t feel confused about that anymore.

Before, it felt like the past was pulling everything forward. Like I had no control over where I was going. It didn’t feel like that anymore.

The past was still there. It wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t in charge anymore. I opened the car door and got in.

I closed it and sat back. I didn’t know what would happen next. But I knew it would be my choice now.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Sean

The penthouse was quiet when I came in. Maeve was already there, sitting by the window and watching TV. She didn’t turn immediately. She knew it was me.

Maeve sat on the edge of the sofa, remote in her hand. The news anchor’s voice filled the penthouse.

“Breaking update tonight on the arrest of prominent businessman Peter Earl…”

The camera cut to a courthouse exterior. Police vehicles lined the street in a tight formation. A blurred image followed of a man being escorted in a dark coat, head lowered, surrounded by officers on both sides.

“…earlier today at Marseille International Transit Airport. Authorities confirmed that Earl was intercepted while attempting to board a private flight out of the country.” Maeve didn’t move. I stayed near the kitchen counter, watching her instead of the screen.

The anchor continued. “Sources close to the investigation report that over twenty kilograms of cocaine were discovered in secured luggage linked to the suspect. Earl has denied all involvement, claiming he had no knowledge of the consignment.”