Heart of Pains

Chapter Thirty-nine

Damien's POV

Most men might not choose this path and would prefer a court battle, but I didn't want Frederick near Hannah. I was still working on winning her heart and I didn't need any distractions.

"Alright, Mr. Frederick, I'll instruct my lawyer to draft an agreement with yours if that's acceptable to you," Hannah replied.

He nodded eagerly.

"Yes. That's perfect with me," he responded. It was only now that I noticed his British accent, which probably explained the ladies' infatuation.

"I believe that's all for now. We'll meet next Friday to get to know each other before we introduce you to Leo and Mariel," Hannah informed him.

"That's okay. Anytime you're ready. I hope I am," he replied. He rose and extended his hand for a handshake with Hannah.

She reciprocated, and the handshake lasted longer than I would have preferred, but I didn't complain. She glared into his eyes.

"Just so you know, every conversation we've had here has been recorded, so don't try anything foolish," Hannah warned, tightening her grip on his hand to emphasize her point.

Frederick's eyes widened at the threat in Hannah's voice, and he shook his head, his expression honest.

"I promise I won't, Hannah," he said firmly before his watch beeped and he looked down at it before cursing and shooting us an apologetic look. "I'm sorry but I must go now. I have a meeting, and they're not my thing, but I must attend it if I want to sell my books better." He finally released Hannah's hand, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I thought I was going to have to do it for him.

"Goodbye, Frederick," I said.

He waved to us and headed towards his car parked on the other side of the road. But little did I know that I'd soon wish that we had never met him.

As he took three long strides across the street, a large black Toyota Jeep appeared out of nowhere. One of the occupants was wearing a mask and rolled down one of the back windows, unleashing a torrent of bullets upon Frederick.

Hannah and I gaped in shock at the sight of Frederick's body being littered with bullets, and the sickening crunch of his corpse hitting the ground, the blood from his wounds pooling on the street. It seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, and the perpetrators of this evil act drove away alive, free, and unscathed.

Children screamed in terror, and parents rushed to protect them. My phone pinged with a message, and when I checked it, the chilling words read, "YOU'RE NEXT."

Hannah received a message as well, which she passed to me. It read, "THIS IS A WARNING."

I looked at Hannah, and all I saw in her expression was unadulterated anger, a fury ready to erupt. She rushed to the murder scene, and I followed closely behind.

When we arrived, the man who had seemed like a potential father figure had become unrecognizable. His blood was splattered everywhere, and his eyes, wide open, held nothing but a smile. Hannah crouched down and gently placed her hand over his eyes before closing them.

"Rest in peace, Frederick. I'll make sure your killers join you soon. Our children will know that you were a good man."

We heard sirens in the distance, and I knew it would be a couple of minutes before they arrived. Perhaps someone had called them. I glanced at Hannah; she stood up and took my hands, wrapping them around her. I pulled her into an embrace, and she kissed my chest before resting her head on my shoulder.

"I love you, Hannah," I whispered, and she hugged me tighter.

I placed my head on her back and began rubbing her to soothe her nerves and calm her down. Soon, the police arrived along with an ambulance, which removed the lifeless body after pronouncing Frederick dead.

Within no time, the scene was swarmed by various law enforcement agencies, including the CIA. They bombarded us with questions, which we answered truthfully. They even detained us as suspects, with one detective subtly hinting that we might have orchestrated Frederick's murder to avoid a custody battle.

However, Hannah remained astonishingly composed throughout, while I was on the brink of losing my temper. She reached out and held my hands, gently massaging my palms to comfort and calm me.

"What's your name, Detective?" my wife finally asked after a while.

"Coleman Canford," he replied, appearing unfazed.

"OK, Mr. Canford. We left our children at home for a few hours to come talk to the man who fathered them, only to witness his murder right in front of us. So, I'll say this once. Go out there, find the real suspect who killed a good man, a man who wanted to be a part of my children's lives, and release us. Otherwise, I'll expose every dirty secret you have to the world. I'll ensure you lose your career and spend the rest of your days behind bars," she said icily, devoid of emotion.

I watched a bead of sweat trickle down his face as he avoided eye contact, confirming that he indeed had some dark secrets that could end his career.

"Is that a threat?" he challenged, trying to appear unyielding.

"Yes, it is. So, I believe you know what's at stake. I want answers before nightfall, and I expect you to do your job. We'll be in touch," she said, standing up. I followed her, and we walked out.

As we got into our car and drove off in silence, the overwhelming tension weighed heavily on us. Finally, I broke the silence. "Say it, Hannah."

"Are you afraid of me?" she asked, her concern for me was genuine.

I gave her an incredulous look.

"No... of course not. Why would you say that? I don't love you any less, and I trust you," I answered, taking my hand.

"Glad to hear that," she said with a faint smile.

"But how do you know that the cop wasn't a good one?" I asked.

"I don't know yet," she replied cryptically. "But I'll find out. I have my ways."