Page 113 of This Life of Mine
“I’m not some fragile thing,” she continues. “You should’ve told me from the beginning.”
Her eyes lock onto mine, unwavering.
“I can handle the truth, Alex. I’ve handled worse.”
She purses her lips. “I’m a grown woman. You don’t have to protect me from a fucking conversation.”
The impact of her tone catches me off guard.
“I’m not some naïve eighteen-year-old anymore who thinks the world is sunshine and happily ever-after’s.” Her voice softens, but the conviction behind it doesn’t. “I’ve lived through hell and still found a way to put myself back together.”
She takes another step toward me. “So don’t decide what I can and can’t handle.”
Her eyes search mine.
“If you tell me the truth and it scares me, let that be my decision. Don’t make that decision for me.”
She’s right. And that truth burns.
I nod once. “I know you’re strong. I never doubted that.”
She scoffs. “Then why?”
I step closer, not crowding her, wanting to be present. “Because telling you too early would’ve made this messier.”
Her brow furrows. “Explain.”
“Cole’s family has connections,” I say. “They’re part of it. They funded this particular contract.” I don’t sugarcoat that. “But they’re not the whole problem.”
She studies me, waiting.
“There’s a system behind them,” I continue. “People who specialize in setting this up. Middlemen. Brokers. They make it clean for wealthy families who want problems erased without getting their hands dirty.”
Her breath catches.
“They’re the real threat,” I say. “They don’t care who you are. They care that you’re profitable to remove. If I’d told you, you would’ve changed your routines. Pulled back. Gone to ground.”
“And that would’ve…”
“Spooked them,” I finish. “They’d disappear. And they’d do it again to someone else.”
She considers my words for a moment.
“I didn’t want you to be bait,” I state, my voice firm now. “I wanted you alive while I traced the thread far enough to cut the whole thing.”
Her arms fold tighter around herself, not defensive now, but grounding.
“So there’s…a wizard behind the curtain.”
“Yes,” I reply.
“And you’re trying to pull him out from behind it?”
“I am,” I confirm.
A pause hangs in the air between us. Less volatile. More reckoning.
“You should’ve trusted me,” she says at last.
