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“So, what do you want?” I grit through my teeth slowly.

She lowers her voice. “Oh, I already have everything of yours on standby. I want you to suffer.” She straightens, clapping her hands, making Penelope flinch. “So! You have two options… Or three… It depends how you look at it. One, you let us torture you to death, and your girlfriend walks free—”

Is this bitch serious?

“Where is she?”

She narrows her eyes at me, picking up a knife from the table. “I’m not finished. Two… Actually, that is your only option. I don’t know what Luke wants with that girl exactly, but I don’t care. Your dirty business will get aired either way, and everything you own will belong to me. Luke was merely a temporary partner to get you distracted.” She laughs like it’s delightful. “So, what will it be, son?”

Son?

A sickening realisation settles over me. Now it makes sense.

“Mum?” My voice comes out almost childlike.

She cackles. “Hardly.”

I can see it now. The brown hair. The facial features.

Bile rises up in my throat as years of hurt and pain surface.

My veins ice up.

The cause of all my pain is standing right in front of me, ready to ruin my fucking life all over again.

But it’s not sadness that I feel.

It’s pure, untamed anger.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” I spit.

She’s been dead to me for a long time.

Jenny completely ignores my statement, signalling for Penelope to come forward.

She scrambles to some papers on the torture table and slams the laptop shut with a contract already laid out on top. “All you have to do is sign over all your assets, and you will go free. I can’t say the same about Camila,” Penelope says, taking a brief look at Jac before retreating again.

“I should’ve fucking known it was you selling us out.” I laugh and look up to the high heavens to find strength in staying put in this fucking seat. “And what happens to Jac?”

Jenny looks over to Jac, her face softening just a smidge. My brows scrunch together.

“My dear boy,” she sighs.

What the fuck is she talking about?

My legs start to bob with impatience and fear, that CCTV of Camila flashing in my mind again.

Jenny walks over to Jac, cradling his face in both hands, smoothing her thumb over his cheek. “You weren’t made for this life, my dear. I should've had you, not him.” She turns her face towards me at the last word, scrunching her face up.

Something like dread coils in my stomach as I watch her interaction with him.

Jac grumbles, yanking his face lazily away from her.

“Guys,” she says, moving away from him.

A ricocheting sound of guns cocking echoes throughout the room, all pointed at me.

“Put those guns away or—”