𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

𝐀 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐒

Nathaniel couldn’t resist pushing Dacre’s buttons further. He leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper, “Come on, Dacre, admit it. Your ‘marriage’ with Teagan was nothing but a façade. It’s incredible how you delude yourself.”

Dacre’s temper flared, his control slipping through his fingers like sand. He had enough of Nathaniel’s taunts, enough of this constant reminder.

With a roar of frustration, he launched himself at Nathaniel again, fists flying.

Demetrio, Thaddeus, and Bartholomew rushed to restrain Dacre once again, but this time, he fought back with ferocity we hadn’t seen in years. His anger was a wildfire, consuming reason and restraint. He was determined to silence Nathaniel’s mockery once and for all.

Dacre, seething with anger, couldn’t let go of the argument. He spat out insults to Nathaniel, “You’ve always been the coward. Running your mouth but never standing your ground.”

Nathaniel simply wiped away the blood from his mouth, seemingly unfazed by the verbal barrage. He wore that same grin, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something darker.

Demetrio, knowing that this could escalate even further, stepped in to try and defuse the tension. He calmly addressed Nathaniel, “Let’s not ruin the day with this pointless banter. We’re here to enjoy ourselves, not repeat the history.”

Nathaniel’s gaze lingered on Dacre for a moment longer before he shrugged, seemingly headless of the tension in the room.

—

The garden of the clubhouse offered a tranquil escape from the earlier confrontation. Dacre sat on a wrought iron bench, puffing on a cigarette, his face etched with frustration and anger.

I quietly approached, settling myself onto a seat across from Dacre. I watched Dacre for a moment, noticing the tense set of his shoulders and the hard line of his jaw.

I cleared my throat, deciding to break the silence, “We have our reputations to uphold, especially now. Losing your cool like that, it won’t do anyone good.”

Dacre continued to smoke, the bitter tang of cigarette mingling with his thoughts. He didn’t respond, his silence was a testament to the storm of emotions swirling within him.

I leaned forward, lowering my voice, “As for what happened with Teagan that night, at some point, you need to face the truth. It’s not just about you anymore.”

Dacre’s eyes flickered, and for a moment, it seemed like he might say something, but the words remained unspoken as he continued to brood in silence.

A few minutes later, Bartholomew approached us cautiously. He recognized the tension in the air but decided to engage nonetheless.

“Mind if I join you two?” He asked, taking a seat beside me.

Dacre, without uttering a word, reached into his pocket and offered us a pack of cigarettes. We both declined.

Bartholomew, leaning back and regarding Dacre with a shrewd gaze, said, “You’ve got to remember that appearances matter. What you do reflects on all of us, and whatever’s going on between your marriage with Teagan, well, it’s not just your private business anymore.”

Dacre finally broke his silence, his voice low and tinged with bitterness, “You think I don’t know that? He disrespected my wife.”

“I understand that you love Teagan very much, but it’s unfair to her, to not know the truth.” Bartholomew, the wise one, said.

Dacre took a deep breath, the ember of his cigarette glowing in the darkness. “You’re the one who made that fake marriage certificate for us.”

Bartholomew nodded. “I did, and I understand why you needed it at that time, but hiding secrets as big as this have heavier consequences.”

I chimed in. “It’s better if the truth comes from you, not from someone else.”

Dacre’s eyes bore into me. “You both are accomplices in this deception. You can’t tell me to just reveal the truth, not now.”

—

The club was alive with energy, the dimly lit room filled with the murmur of conversation and the soft clinking of glasses.

The main event of the evening was a dual auction, with Thaddeus presiding over a collection of rare and exquisite gems, and showcasing Demetrio’s newest line of substances.

I sat at a reserved table with Bartholomew, Demetrio, and Sebastian, my attention divided between the auctions. It was a night like any other in my club, a mix of elegance and the thrill of the forbidden.

As Thaddeus continued to mesmerize the crowd with his auctioneer skills, a stranger in the royal blue mask was standing near one of the club’s ornate pillars.

The man in the royal blue mask moved with a confident grace, weaving through the crowd. With a subtle nod to Bartholomew, I rose from my seat, my steps silent as I followed the masked figure.

Outside, the cool night air greeted me, and the sound of the bustling city filled my ears. I scanned the surroundings, looking for any sign of the masked man.

There was something familiar about that walk.

As I was about to continue my pursuit, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. My senses sharpened, and I turned, ready to confront whoever was following me.

“Teagan, what are you doing here?”

Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at me. “I miss you.”

I enveloped my wife into a tight, protective hug, my relief palpable. “I’m here,” I assured her. “Nobody will hurt you.”

—

The car glided smoothly through the dimly lit city streets as my wife began to recount her encounter earlier at the market. Her voice was soft and animated, filled with curiosity and a hint of unease.

“There was this guy,” She began, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I was just minding my own business, looking at some fruits, and he came up to me.”

I listened intently, my eyes occasionally flicking to her expressive face as she continued. “He knew my name, love,” She said, her voice tinged with confusion. “I mean, how could he possibly know my name?”

I remembered the conversation I had with Roux about seeing Teagan at the market earlier.

My wife turned to me, her eyes searching for answers. “It was so strange. I don’t even recognize him at all.”

I gently squeezed her hand. “Maybe he was mistaken, meu amor.” I suggested.

Teagan sighed softly and turned her gaze back to the passing scenery. “Maybe,” She conceded, her fingers intertwining with mine. “How about you, Dacre? Is everything alright?”

I hesitated for a moment, and sighed, my grip on the steering wheel loosening slightly. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been giving you enough time lately,” I admitted.

Teagan’s fingers tightened around mine. “I understand,” She said gently. “You have so much on your plate, and I know you’re doing your best.”

TO BE CONTINUED.