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I Won’t Cry For Him

Hypothetical Question: Would you rather forget about yourself or forget about someone else?

Carina

Doc M: It’s completely understandable that you might feel wary, or unsure of your feelings. Do not be too hard on yourself. Tell me: how do you feel about him?

Carina: I like him a lot. He shows me constantly that he would do anything to make me happy, to protect me.

Doc M: Is there anything stopping you from loving him?

Carina: I just don’t know if what I’m feeling is love.

Doc M: Usually, I’d say love is something you just know. But I get why you might be confused by your feelings.

Carina: How do I unconfuse them?

Doc M: You give it time. You’ll figure it out. Listen to your heart.

I roll my eyes at Doctor Morgan’s words. You’ll figure it out. For once, I think she might actually be wrong.

How can you figure out whether you love someone when you’ve never truly seen what love looks like?

Mum left when I was still a baby, so I never knew her. But given her ability to leave her child with a monster—and I know she knew what he was like, he doesn’t exactly hide it—I don’t think she would have been a good role model for love.

Obviously, my father never loved me.

So how do I know what it looks like? How it feels?

The closest I think I’ve come is my grandfather. My mother's father. Grandpa Rossetti was the one who first taught me Italian. Maybe he loved me. But he died when I was seven, so my memories are a little jumbled.

I push the thoughts of Nate’s confession aside for now.

My plans for Edward need to be airtight. There’s so much that could go wrong—not just because of how wealthy he is, but because of what I did.

When I fled to Italy, I had nothing—no money, no safety net. Desperation forced my hand.

I hired Enzo—not just to erase my existence but to do something far riskier.

Over months, he infiltrated Edward’s business accounts, siphoning millions in small, untraceable transactions. By the time anyone noticed, the money had vanished, buried in offshore accounts.

That money became my lifeline. My freedom.

It’s how I’ve been able to build this new life, to afford the house in Kensington without raising suspicion. But I know the truth—and I know Edward. If he ever finds out, he’ll destroy me.

After him there’s only one more man left on my list; my father.

I know Nate isn’t happy that I’m leaving him out of this, but I need to do it alone. Taking down the men who’ve wronged me is about more than justice—it’s about reclaiming my control. And when Nate is involved, I lose focus. He’s a force of nature, and as much as I love working with him, this one needs to be mine.

It’s been years since I last kept tabs on Edward. At first, I was obsessed, checking for any sign he suspected me. But it became clear he had no idea what I’d done.

Or at least, he didn’t suspect me .

So, I stopped looking.

As I open my laptop and type his name into the search bar, that old, familiar dread slithers in.

Edward Blackwell.

Thousands of results flood the screen—articles about his company, his wealth. But one headline stands out:

[Blackwell Industries Merger with Gardner Enterprises Falls Through After Gardner Disappears.]

A strange tightness coils in my chest.

Gardner. Simon Gardner.

Wasn’t the party Nate took me to about a merger involving him and… Nate’s dad?

I pause, my fingers hovering over the keys as a wave of unease washes over me.

His dad… whose name is Ed.

The blood drains from my face.

No. It’s just a coincidence. It has to be.

I keep scrolling. Faster now, heart hammering. I scroll through article after article until I find one about Edward’s family. My stomach turns as I read:

Wife: Evelyn Blackwell

Daughter: Melanie Blackwell (deceased)

Son: Nathaniel Blackwell

The name slams into me like a wrecking ball.

The words blur on the screen as white-hot fury ignites in my veins.

Nathaniel Blackwell.

Nate .

My mind fractures, splintering into jagged pieces. Every moment we spent together replays in my head—every stolen glance, every lingering touch.

The way he always showed up at my crime scenes.

The way he knew where I lived.

The way he seemed to fit so perfectly into my world.

I thought it was fate.

It wasn’t fate. It was a setup.

I shove away from the table, breathing hard.

This is his father’s doing. The two of them, manipulating me.

For what? What’s their endgame?

A sharp pain stabs at my chest—betrayal sinking its claws into me.

I slam the laptop shut, my hands shaking with rage. Nate told me he loved me, and I believed him.

Was it all a lie?

A hot prickle burns behind my eyes, but I crush it down. No. I won’t cry for him.

He doesn’t deserve my tears.

What he deserves is a slow, painful death right alongside his father.

Oh god.

The realisation hits me like a sledgehammer, a new horror seeping in.

They know.

About everything.

Every crime I’ve committed, every man I’ve killed.

What if this was their plan all along? What if they’re going to the police?

Panic claws at my chest, but I take a deep breath, forcing it down.

I won’t let that happen.

If they want to play games, fine.

But I’ll make sure they don’t live long enough to see the end of it.