I was still elated as I turned onto Jean's street. I was still looking forward to my revenge, still smiling at the shit that was coming for Amber and Dave. The smile, though, was tempered. I would enjoy this moment, this day. I would enjoy Amber and Dave's coming pain. I would keep true to myself during that enjoyment, though. I would not fall off the edge.I could just make out a figure on the porch as the house came clearer into view. Jean was waiting for me, huddled within the terry cloth of her robe."You'd better come inside," she said quietly as I stood panting before the stairs. There was a seriousness to her words, an intensity that was both strange and familiar. I'd seen Jean like this once before when we'd lost a contract I'd worked hard on."What's up?" I asked, gasping for breath."Just ... come in," she said simply and walked into the house.They were all waiting for me in the living room, the television on, some female reporter blathering on about something. I joined the
Because of this," she replied. "Because of how you're feeling right now. Because you can hate yourself for what you did to Michael."Hate myself? I realized she was right. I did hate myself. I should never have involved Michael in this plot. I should have found a way to keep him away from all this. Instead, I'd thrust him into my scheme as just another pawn on my path to revenge.Amber? She deserved everything I could dish out, the cunt. Dave? He deserved everything I could throw at him. Maddy? She wasn't as culpable, but there was enough blame to throw around; she knew about the two of them and let it continue. My soul cankered with the need to lash out at them.Michael? Not so much. He'd done nothing to elicit my wrath except ... be my son. Fall asleep lying on top of me, his little head on my chest, his arms around me, hugging me even in his sleep. Play blocks with me, toss the ball with me, swing on a swing as I pushed him, smile and laugh as I tickled him. No matter that it wasn'
How to re-assure him, though? How could I possibly explain why I'd done what I'd done? How could I show him that I didn't care who Jean slept with – not NOW, at any rate – what I cared about was honesty? What I needed was the truth; not to have my eyes blinded by what I wanted to be but opened to what truly was. How could I explain that the pain and rage I felt wasn't directed at my wife's relationship with her brother but rather that she'd kept it from me, never giving me a chance to form an opinion of it? How could I let him know that the deepest cut of all was that I'd been lured into believing I was finally part of a family, something I desperately wanted with every fiber of my being, only to have it ripped from me in single moment?The bailer was loud, but I was louder. I'm not a person who opens up; I don't share what's inside. Oh, I'll share my life, things that happened, but not how I feel – at least, not easily. Amber had been there, at one time. I'd trusted her enough to let
Marcello's POV:I pinched the bridge of my nose for probably the 50th time in the past 36 hours. I didn't sleep well on airplanes. I never had. Not even when I hadn't slept in nearly 2 days.Coming home was well worth it, though. As I smiled down at the plain gold band on my finger, I marveled at my perfect life. Not bad for an orphan.My life hadn't always been perfect. My parents were killed in an automobile accident when I was 7; that's the absolute worst age to be orphaned. You're just past the age where anyone will adopt you but too young to know what's going on. All you really know is that all the people in your life that you love and care about, and that care about you, are gone.I had no relatives. My grandparents on my mom's side were gone long before I was born. My dad's mom passed away just before my birth; he'd never known his father. Oh, I had an aunt somewhere – my mother's younger sister – but she'd left home at the age of 16 and just disappeared. No one knew where she
By the age of 26 I had a doctorate in Chemistry and Software Engineering, and Bachelor's degrees in Mathematics and Physics. I'd used my first two patents to start my own consulting firm – the firm owned the patents so proceeds profited the firm – and was well on my way to becoming fabulously wealthy and successful.I met Amber when I was 29 and wandering around a fraternity party. My roommate and best friend, Doug, was in the frat and had invited me; I enjoyed the parties and was friends with most of the brothers but I had never joined – I was just too busy. So there I was, nursing my beer (I never had more than two – I just didn't enjoy drinking) when this angel walked in the door. She had come to the party on the arm of this big man who looked like he played football – by himself ... and won ... and she proceeded to get completely bombed. The football-looking guy was having too good a time to help her home when she was on the verge of passing out – so I volunteered.It isn't what y
I had ensured that all of my contracts that required travel included a clause that said I was to be home for two days every weekend and at least 1 week of every month; I didn't think I could go any longer without seeing my wife and son. It was the one immutable rule I had made for myself and I'd never broken it until this past weekend, opting to finish my work on Saturday and Sunday so I could get an extra week with Amber and Mikey.I pulled into the driveway in my 1998 Buick Skylark. I'd read once that when people who had nothing all their lives came into money, they tended to either spend it lavishly or hoard it religiously. I fell on the hoarding side, I'm sure, but I never saw the reason in buying anything flashy. I preferred simple, reliable things and my Skylark was old but reliable. It got me from point A to point B and that's all I needed. The company had a few cars on lease in case I needed to entertain potential clients but I almost hated to use them. A simple gold wedding b
We'd often used a pillow to muffle her wails so that we didn't wake up Mikey ... but Mikey wasn't here now, so she had no such compunction."Uh ... uh ... uh ... fucking ... fucking ... CUMMMING..." the man wailed, bringing her over the top, her wails adding to his own as I watched him push as deep as he could into my wife. His back was bowed, his hands holding him above her, his ass flexed taut as he ground himself into her. I knew what he was feeling, could remember feeling it myself ... and I ground my teeth at the memory.They stayed like that for a moment, clutched together, my wife's hands almost like claws against his back, holding him. Her legs were tight around his thighs, her legs flexing as her wail went on and on. There was an added grunting to it as she drew breath to continue, a ululating sound that told me she was having a really big orgasm or maybe even a series of them; Amber could be multi-orgasmic when she was really into the sex as she obviously was now. That memor
I'd heard enough. I wasn't sure I could take any more. I think I'd hoped this had been a one-time thing but now I knew better. This had been going on for years – since she was 17, she'd said, so at least 13 years. And he'd spent the past week with her, having sex with her. I couldn't take any more.My hand wasn't very steady as I wrote the note. My mind was clear but my body wasn't listening to it too well. Luckily it was a short note."I can't deal with this."I put the box in the middle of the hallway about 4 feet from the door, the note under it. I walked back slowly and quietly and picked up my luggage and walked through the mud room and into the garage. Both Amber and Dave's cars were inside and I resisted the urge to hurl large, heavy objects through their windshields. I closed the door quietly, pulling my keys out of my pocket and carefully selecting my car key. Then I activated the garage door.I wanted them to hear me and the garage door would make sure of that; I'd hooked th