She tells me what she thinks I want to hear. Ivy has eaten. She has showered and dressed. She has rested. But those aren't the details I need, and in my exasperation, I find I don't know how to express what I need because I can't even identify it myself.
"Feel better?" Mercedes enters the room, eyeing the evidence of my tantrum with an arched brow, her red heels crunching over the broken glass littering the floor.
"What do you want?" I snap.
She flinches at my tone but recovers quickly as she often does, squaring her shoulders and crossing her arms as she pins me with her gaze.
"What is the matter with you?" she demands. "You've been sulking around in here all day. It isn't like you."
"I'm busy," I answer shortly. "It's a concept you might understand if you had any other motivation in life besides devouring the souls of the innocent."
A dry laugh erupts from her lips as she shakes her head in disbelief. "Really, brother? You of all people are going to lecture me on morality?"
I don't know why I'm being such an asshole to her. But it can't be helped, and I'm not in the mood for a confrontation with her, which is exactly what she came here for.
She takes a seat in the vacant chair opposite my desk and crosses her legs, cocking her head to the side as she studies me. Mercedes has always had the ability to stare at you like she can see into your very soul. It's an unnerving quality, and she has used it to bring many men to heel and plead for her attention. But hell hath no fury when it doesn't work.
"I hate to break it to you, Santi." Her lips curve into a wicked grin as she leans forward and lowers her voice to a whisper. "But you and I are exactly the same."
Had it been any other day, I would have agreed with her. We are the same. Or at least we were. But somewhere between the events of the last few days, it feels as though my thirst for revenge has taken a short leave of absence, leaving only confusion behind in its place. That's the only logical explanation that makes sense, given that I've been sitting here all day considering my wife's feelings. Trying to understand human emotion on a level I never have before. Feeling so off I can hardly sit still for more than a moment.
I want to destroy something, but for once, it isn’t her. I want to force her to be sweet to me again. What a grand delusion that is.
I must be going insane.
"She's getting to you." Mercedes mirrors my thoughts.
"No." My response is lifeless, and even I can't pretend the conviction in my voice doesn't sound contrived.
My sister narrows her eyes at me, a fire-breathing serpent from the depths of hell. If jealousy had a face, it would be hers right now. I know that's what makes her question my resolve. She has always been the baby in the family. The cherished princess who was adored by our mother and protected by her brothers at all costs. But things have been so different since the explosion. She lost half her family in one instant, and then her mother in the aftermath. We are both just ghosts, living in this house, haunted by the memories. She has been watching me slowly slip away ever since, trying with all her might to pull me back. That's what it boils down to. She fears she will lose me to Ivy like she has lost everyone else.
"I have seen it with my own eyes," she hisses. "You carrying her around the halls of the manor like a broken little doll in your arms. It's pathetic, Santiago. If you don't have the guts to go through with this, then tell me now. I will do what is necessary."
My chair crashes into the wall behind me as I rise up and lean over the desk, breathing my own fire into Mercedes's face so there can be no doubt to my authority.
"Don't ever question my abilities," I snarl. "You will do exactly as you are told, and nothing more. If you even so much as think about pulling another stunt, I will have you shipped off so fast your head will fucking spin. Is my intention clear enough for you now?"
She shoves back her chair, lip trembling as tears cling to the edges of her eyelids. It's unlike my sister to show such a display of emotion, and for a moment, I question if she is right.
"You think you have it all under control," she sneers. "Yet you don't even realize your sweet, perfect wife has been sneaking in her brother right under your nose."
This information takes me by surprise, and Mercedes shakes her head at me when she sees it.
"She is a traitor. And you'd be wise not to forget it. Not even for a second, Santi. She will ruin you if you let her."
With those words, she disappears, leaving me to my thoughts. Within moments, I find myself scouring the cameras, checking the videotapes of the entrance until I find the undeniable proof. Abel was here. He was in my fucking house. And Ivy is going to pay for it.
I'm halfway down the corridor to her bedroom when Antonia appears in the hall up ahead with a tray in her hands. She startles when she sees me stalking toward her, her lips drawing into a frown when she recognizes the stormy expression on my face.
"Santiago?" She pauses before me. "She is sleeping, sir."
"I don't care." I move to forge on, but Antonia steps into my path, peering up at me with an expression I don't recognize.
"Perhaps, tonight you should let her rest."
My eyes dart over her head, fists clenching at my sides. "No."
It is unlike Antonia to challenge me in this way, and I don't know what to make of her strange behavior, but when she casts her eyes downward, it appears that she feels remorseful for something herself.
"It's my fault, sir."
"What is?" I demand.
"Her brother," she says softly. "That's what this is about, right?"
Her answer surprises and confuses me.
"What do you mean it's your fault?"
"I know all visitors are supposed to be approved by you," she answers, her voice choked with emotion. "But I figured, he is her family. I did not think it would be too much of an imposition."
My tempered breath leaves my lungs in a rush of hot air. "Ivy did not request for him to come here?"
"No, sir. He arrived of his own accord," she assures me.
I drag a hand through my hair and glance over her shoulder once more. I should have known Mercedes was trying to provoke me. And Abel is something I will have to deal with later. But for now, I am content to know that it was not Ivy's doing. At least, not this time.
"He is never to step foot in this manor again without my explicit permission," I inform her. "Is that understood, Antonia?"
"Yes, sir." She dips her head. "I am sorry."
"Do you know what was discussed between them on his visit today?"
"No, I am afraid I was not present, other than to escort him into the room."
It's a fact I am already aware of, given that's exactly what I saw on the camera. But still I had hoped there would be some useful scrap of information. I know Abel was not visiting his sister out of the kindness of his heart.
Antonia remains there, uncertain, waiting for me to dismiss her. But I am trying and failing to find my next words, and when I do, my voice is stiffer than usual.
"Did she request to see me at all today?"
Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and she shuffles her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "No, sir."