Page 25
Story: Sinful Ruin
He’d probably make Henry’s punishment worse.
Julian clicks his tongue along the roof of his mouth and pulls his gun back out, thrusting it against the back of his head. “That’s not good enough.”
“Julian, this really isn’t necessary. I told him no,” I finally say, stepping closer.
Julian slowly shakes his head at me. “It’s completely necessary.” He pushes the gun against Henry’s head. “Now, say it again—and like you mean it. I want to hear the regret in your voice. I want to hear what a disgrace you are as a man. You’re trash, a fucking predator, who doesn’t deserve to enjoy another day in his life.”
“Genesis, I’m so sorry.” Henry presses his palms together in a praying gesture. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll give you legal services, free of charge. Whatever you want.”
“She doesn’t need your fucking services.” Julian squeezes the trigger.
Blood splatters everywhere—the walls, the floor, the desk, on a family photo, on Julian, onmy cheek. It reminds me of what happened in my father’s office, and I swallow down the vomit rising up my throat.
Death seems to be the theme of the day. Henry’s scrawny body sinks to the ground, blood gushing from his head, just like how my father’s did.
I hear a gasp and turn around to find the secretary standing in the doorway.
“Try to run, and I’ll shoot you next,” Julian warns, aiming the gun in her direction again.
“Don’t you dare,” I say to Julian.
No way in hell am I okay with him murdering this poor woman.
With the gun still on the woman, he walks around Henry’s body, dodging the blood, and stops in front of me.
He lowers the gun to smear the blood across my cheek. “Red looks good on you, baby.”
I’ve seentwo dead bodies and cleaned their blood off me in less than twelve hours.
Two men who’d been role models my entire life are now dead.
Two men I thought I could trust.
Moral of the story: Don’t trust men, especially ones who love power.
Though does that mean I can’t trust Julian?
After Julian killed Henry, he sat the secretary down, handed her a stack of cash, and told her if she kept her mouth shut, he’d send her more every month. He also offered her a better job with higher pay at Lucky Kings. It didn’t even take her a minute to accept his offer.
She told Julian where the cameras were, and he erased all the data from the office and lobby. It’s like I’m living in theVeronica Marsmovie, only with way more violence. He told the secretary to tell the cops a man dressed in a suit came in, angry that Henry had lost his case and cost him money, and shot him.
The fact that it doesn’t take Julian hours to do this is scary.
It’s like he has it down to a science.
We leave, and Julian drives straight to my building in the city. He parks in the back, and we enter through the employee door. I frown, hating that I don’t get the chance to tell my doorman or neighbors goodbye. Though it may be a good thing. I’m sure they have tons of questions if the Feds did go through my apartment or they saw the news.
Julian holds my hand tight, leading me down a hall and up a flight of stairs. I’ve never been in this way before.
My parents bought me the condo for my twenty-first birthday. I spent six months working with an interior designer, decorating it with bright colors and lush furniture. I also had a delivery of fresh peonies every morning.
It was supposed to be my forever home—or at least until I married and started a family. Now, that future is gone.
My cheeks flush from embarrassment.
I’m twenty-five, and my parents still funded my life.
It’s not as if I spent all my life lounging at home and vacationing. I treated my volunteer work as a full-time job. It’d been my life for so long, and my parents had no issue financing my philanthropy work.
Julian clicks his tongue along the roof of his mouth and pulls his gun back out, thrusting it against the back of his head. “That’s not good enough.”
“Julian, this really isn’t necessary. I told him no,” I finally say, stepping closer.
Julian slowly shakes his head at me. “It’s completely necessary.” He pushes the gun against Henry’s head. “Now, say it again—and like you mean it. I want to hear the regret in your voice. I want to hear what a disgrace you are as a man. You’re trash, a fucking predator, who doesn’t deserve to enjoy another day in his life.”
“Genesis, I’m so sorry.” Henry presses his palms together in a praying gesture. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll give you legal services, free of charge. Whatever you want.”
“She doesn’t need your fucking services.” Julian squeezes the trigger.
Blood splatters everywhere—the walls, the floor, the desk, on a family photo, on Julian, onmy cheek. It reminds me of what happened in my father’s office, and I swallow down the vomit rising up my throat.
Death seems to be the theme of the day. Henry’s scrawny body sinks to the ground, blood gushing from his head, just like how my father’s did.
I hear a gasp and turn around to find the secretary standing in the doorway.
“Try to run, and I’ll shoot you next,” Julian warns, aiming the gun in her direction again.
“Don’t you dare,” I say to Julian.
No way in hell am I okay with him murdering this poor woman.
With the gun still on the woman, he walks around Henry’s body, dodging the blood, and stops in front of me.
He lowers the gun to smear the blood across my cheek. “Red looks good on you, baby.”
I’ve seentwo dead bodies and cleaned their blood off me in less than twelve hours.
Two men who’d been role models my entire life are now dead.
Two men I thought I could trust.
Moral of the story: Don’t trust men, especially ones who love power.
Though does that mean I can’t trust Julian?
After Julian killed Henry, he sat the secretary down, handed her a stack of cash, and told her if she kept her mouth shut, he’d send her more every month. He also offered her a better job with higher pay at Lucky Kings. It didn’t even take her a minute to accept his offer.
She told Julian where the cameras were, and he erased all the data from the office and lobby. It’s like I’m living in theVeronica Marsmovie, only with way more violence. He told the secretary to tell the cops a man dressed in a suit came in, angry that Henry had lost his case and cost him money, and shot him.
The fact that it doesn’t take Julian hours to do this is scary.
It’s like he has it down to a science.
We leave, and Julian drives straight to my building in the city. He parks in the back, and we enter through the employee door. I frown, hating that I don’t get the chance to tell my doorman or neighbors goodbye. Though it may be a good thing. I’m sure they have tons of questions if the Feds did go through my apartment or they saw the news.
Julian holds my hand tight, leading me down a hall and up a flight of stairs. I’ve never been in this way before.
My parents bought me the condo for my twenty-first birthday. I spent six months working with an interior designer, decorating it with bright colors and lush furniture. I also had a delivery of fresh peonies every morning.
It was supposed to be my forever home—or at least until I married and started a family. Now, that future is gone.
My cheeks flush from embarrassment.
I’m twenty-five, and my parents still funded my life.
It’s not as if I spent all my life lounging at home and vacationing. I treated my volunteer work as a full-time job. It’d been my life for so long, and my parents had no issue financing my philanthropy work.
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