Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Clarice’s lips curled into a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Humility, Bishop? That’s never been my strong suit, you know that.” Her voice was smooth, almost melodic, but there was a sharpness beneath it. She was still playing the part she always had—the untouchable beauty, even as she stood trapped in a cage.
I stepped closer, my eyes locking onto hers. “You should be thanking me, Clarice. You’ve been given a place in the Rite. Not everyone gets that chance.”
Her smile faded, replaced by a cold, hardened expression.
"A place I never asked for. But then again, you always made decisions for me, didn’t you, Diabolus?”
I smiled faintly, unfazed by her bitterness. “Some things never change.”
Jamison crossed his arms, his gaze never leaving her. “She still looks good for someone who’s been rotting in here.”
“Shame it’s all wasted on someone who never knew when to shut up,” Bishop added with a laugh.
Her cold smile barely flickered as her gaze swept over us, lingering on me longer than I would have liked. “You’re not going to bring your shiny new wife to see me?” she asked, her voice deceptively sweet, though her eyes told a different story. There was venom there, hidden just beneath the surface.
Bishop let out a bark of laughter. “You think he’d ever let her step foot in this shithole? Come on, Clarice. Even you should know better than that.”
“He’s right.” I stepped closer to the bars, my expression darkening. “Why would I ever let her step foot in a place like this?” I said, voice low and dangerous. “The only time you’ll lay eyes on her is when you’re taking your last breath.”
Her smile faltered, the icy composure cracking just enough for me to see the flicker of fear beneath it. I’d seen it before—back when she first realized her fate was sealed. But now? Now, she knew the end was coming. I continued, my voice softening, but it wasn’t out of kindness. “Tell me, Clarice… do you ever wonder how it all fell apart? Or have you already figured it out?”
She stiffened, her lips pressing into a thin line, but she didn’t speak.
“You think it was just bad luck,” I said, shaking my head. “But it wasn’t. You see, I orchestrated everything. The affair? The pregnancy? You thought you were being clever, sneaking around with your driver, but I gave him the order. And as my word is law, the man was all too happy to oblige.”
Her face paled, and the mask she wore began to crumble. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“Oh, I know,” I said, my smile widening. “You didn’t think he’d betray you, did you? You thought you could control him like you tried to control me. You’ve always been too predictable.”
Bishop chuckled from behind me, leaning against the wall once again as if this were the best entertainment he’d had all week. Jamison stayed quiet, his eyes fixed on her, watching the unraveling.
Clarice took a step back, her once regal posture now faltering. “You bastard,” she finally hissed.
“You thought you could carry on an affair, get pregnant, and no one would ever know,” I said, voice sharp now. “But I made sure everyone knew. Every. Single. Detail. And when you sought out that little procedure to clean up your mess, I made sure it went just the way I wanted. Sterile, forever.”
Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach, and I could see the devastation in her eyes.
“The Isle needed an heir,” I continued, “and you couldn’t provide one. So you were no longer of any use to me.”
The weight of the truth seemed to crash over her, the reality of her situation sinking in. Clarice’s downfall had been inevitable from the moment I learned of Lolita’s existence. The affair was nothing more than an opportunity for me to make sure she was removed from my life, and her sterility had sealed her fate.
“You could have just divorced me," she whispered, her voice cracking.
I laughed, the sound cold and humorless. “Divorce?” I shook my head, stepping closer to the bars. “There are no divorces in Impío, Clarice. You know that. Especially not for me. You never suggested such a thing when you encouraged me to mold Melanie into what I needed or get rid of her for good. In fact, I remember using the video of how I cut her open as foreplay.”
“Well, goddamn,” Bishop muttered with a laugh.
Her face paled even further, the memory of her own words and actions clearly surfacing. She had been so sure of herself back then, so convinced she had all the answers. In the end, she had underestimated just how permanent things were in our world and how easy it was for me to get what I wanted.
Lolita Alistair.
There was no space for another.