Gotham

Shattered illusions

"Wait, what?" I stammered, the weight of his revelation pressing down on me. "You're saying... my grandma, Cecilia, was drug dealer?"

Eagle nodded, his expression somber. "Yes, that's right."

My mind spun, questions crashing like waves against the shore of my understanding. "But... why didn't she ever tell me about this? Why didn't she mention you?" Confusion and hurt wove through my voice, a tapestry of emotions I couldn't unravel.

I began to pace, trying to fit the pieces of this jigsaw puzzle together. The knowledge that my grandmother had been entwined in such a significant part of Aleksey's life–and had kept it hidden from me–overwhelmed me.

Betrayal, curiosity, and a gnawing uncertainty danced together in my chest, each feeling battling for dominance.

Aleksey watched me closely, his gaze unwavering, understanding that this revelation was a storm I had to weather alone.

"I don't believe you," I managed to say, my voice a shaky whisper.

"I'll show you the basement in your house to prove it," he said, his tone resolute. "I have photos of her from when I was younger. She was kind and caring. If she hadn't approached me that day, who knows if I would even be alive? Without her, I wouldn't be the man I am now, nor would I understand the essence of life. She raised me like I was her own. When I learned she had passed away, it felt as if a part of my soul had been ripped away."

The reality of his words hit me like a cold wave.

"The house was in my name," he continued, "and I signed it over to you because I knew you'd want to stay here. I saw you at the funeral, and you're so much like her–stubborn, just like she was. It was my way of keeping you close. A couple of months before she died, she often spoke about you, about how you wanted to spend time with her but felt ignored by your parents. Then something shifted. She grew distant, and I thought perhaps she was unwell. But it wasn't that–she got new neighbors and began spending time with them, pulling away from me."

He paused, the gravity of his next words heavy in the air. "When I found out she had let a stranger into her house, I knew it was dangerous. She claimed they were nice, that they wouldn't discover what she did in her home, but I knew better. She let Jasper in–the same Jasper you welcomed into your life. But here's the twist, Rose," he said, leaning closer, shadows flickering in his eyes. "You want to know a funny thing about Jasper?"

"What?" I managed, my voice barely above a whisper, not knowing what to expect next.

"Jasper was my friend from Russia," he said, each word clipped and tense.

"Oh my God." The phrase escaped me like a breath of shock, the enormity of his revelation washing over me.

"That's why I warned you to stay away from him," Aleksey continued, the urgency in his tone sharpening. "His plan all along was to eliminate Cecilia because he understood how much she meant to me. Thankfully, she passed away before he could lay a finger on her. But when he saw you with me, he wanted you dead."

"What did I even do to him? Was it because I was related to Cecilia?"

"No, it was because you were in my life," he replied, his expression darkening further. "He claimed I had ruined his life, and he vowed to ruin mine in return. But I ended his life before he could enact his plans."

Aleksey took another deep swig of whiskey, the liquid igniting a fierce resolve within him. "There's more I need to tell you. Before I took Jasper out, I confronted him one last time. I wanted to uncover his intentions."

His gaze turned cold and steely. "Jasper was consumed by bitterness and vengeance. He didn't hold back. He laid it all bare: he wanted to make my life a living hell, all because of the past back in Russia. You, Rose, were crucial to his scheme."