Page 114 of Ruthless Lord

“If he did that, it was on his own initiative.”

I flinch, gripping the knife tighter. “This is what you do, isn’t it? You lie about everything. You twist the world until it fits the shape you want.”

“I have no reason to lie.”

“Then there’s nothing left to talk about.” I approach him slowly.

“That’s it? You’re going to stab an old man to death?” He makes a face and laughs lightly. “Here I was, thinking you were too good for that.”

“You must not know me then.”

“Charlie’s my heir. We’ve had some disagreements lately, of course, but that doesn’t change a thing. Why would I want her dead?”

“She figured out your plan. We know what you’ve been doing. The break-ins at the depot. The man you sent to our house.”

“All her father’s doing. My stupid son. Did he convince you I was involved?” Harrison stretches out his legs and sighs. “Really, I thought I trained her better than this.”

I loom over him. He looks at me with wet eyes, smirking slightly, entirely at ease. If I didn’t know better, I might believe him too. That’s the fucked-up part of all this. I might think he’s telling the truth because he’s such a convincing liar. The man’s got plenty of practice at it.

“Do something good with your last breath. Tell me why you decided to use her against the Marinos.”

He considers that question for a moment before shrugging. “I saw an opportunity. I suppose she told you about that.”

“She told me everything.”

“Can’t blame me for that, Stefano. It’s only business. Honestly, sit down and we can discuss this.”

“Are you ready to beg?” I lean forward and press the edge of the knife to his throat. Finally, it starts to get through to him. That I’m not here to play games. That lying and bluffing won’t save him. Fear slips into his eyes the way it always does when the end’s right there. “Come on, Harrison. Beg a little.”

“I have money. You know that. Tell Charlie I’ll release the restrictions on her trust.”

“We have money.”

“Power. I have power. I know people. What do you want? I can get you anything. Access, objects, experiences?—”

“We don’t need any of that.”

Harrison Westbrook, one of the most powerful men in the world, babbles at me, pleading for his life. He offers me the world, and in this moment, he truly means it. He’d give me anything to keep breathing for a little while longer.

Great men are torn down before the specter of death.

A voice whispers in my ear, cold, calm, and firm. “Kill him, Stefano. I can’t listen to this anymore.”

“Are you sure?” I say back.

Harrison’s eyes go wide. He’s nodding, talking about the private plane he’ll happily sign over to me.

“I’m sure,” Charlie says, louder now. “Do it, Stefano.”

I lean forward. That’s all it takes. “It’s a great plane, good wings—” The knife plunges into Harrison’s throat and his last words get choked off. I slice sharply, severing an artery and sawing into his voice box. He gags, choking on blood, hands desperately trying to close the wounds as his life pumps and pours from the opening I sliced into his body. I step back, avoiding the worst of the blood, and watch the light slowly fade. His choking and hacking slowly calm as his frail old body flops to the floor with a dead thud.

“It’s done,” I say to the empty room.

Charlie answers. She sounds surprisingly calm. “Did he suffer?”

“Yes, he did.”

“That’s good. Come home now.”