Page 63 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

For a second, I can’t even respond.

Because the memory he drags into the open isn’t simple. It isn’t something I can twist into something easy or dismiss without lying to myself.

After everything in Las Vegas, I found my way back home. And Daniel didn’t let it end there. He kept showing up. Uninvited. Unwanted.

He showed up at my door. At places I thought were safe. Pushing, talking, spinning stories that never sat right no matter how much he tried to sell them.

It got bad enough that Aisha and I left. We moved to a new apartment. Then we traveled for a few months to India, far enough to breathe, far enough to think, far enough to separate what happened from what he kept trying to turn it into.

And through all of it, he kept repeating the same lie that Robert forced it. That there was a gun and he didn’t have a choice.

But I remember too clearly that Robert never forced his way. That night was a lot of things, overwhelming, consuming, confusing in ways I didn’t know how to process then.

But it wasn’t that.

And Daniel knew that.

“You’re a pig.” My fingers curl at my side as I look at him properly now, really look, and whatever was left of him in my mind drops.

Completely.

“You never had a problem fucking in the swine.” He shrugs.

My eyes shift past him for a second to Celine.

She’s across the room, surrounded, glowing in a way that feels almost unreal under the lighting I designed to make her look exactly like that.

Her dress is soft gold, fitted through the bodice before cascading into layers of sheer fabric that move like air every time she turns. Her blonde hair falls in smooth waves down her back,one side tucked just enough to reveal the delicate line of her neck, her earrings stealing the light with every small movement.

She looks… Happy. Or at least trying to be.

There’s a brightness to her smile, but it flickers at the edges when she’s not being watched.

And for a moment, I feel something close to pity. Because she doesn’t see this version of him. Or maybe she does and she’s choosing not to.

“She looks beautiful,” I scoff, my gaze still on her.

Daniel follows my line of sight, his expression shifting slightly before settling back into something dismissive.

“Yeah,” he exhales. “She does what she needs to.”

I bring my attention back to him slowly.

“You should go stand beside your wife,” I tell him, no softness left in my tone now. “Instead of standing here trying to… whatever this is.”

He smirks.

“Relax,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough to make it intentional. “I’m just catching up.”

“We’re not catching up.”

He studies me for a second, like he’s deciding how far he wants to push.

Then walks off.

Idiot.

But the night moves from there, slipping into that blurred space where boundaries liquefy for everyone except me.