Proof that he’s mine plays on a loop while I try to come to terms with what I think is happening.
“He has a right to know who ya are. I don’t want anythin’ from ye.”
“Aye, y’ve said that, but ye need to understand where I’m comin’ from.”
I do the math. Shay was conceived when Punky was in jail. Did he have conjugal visits? Did he see Aoife instead of me? I dedicated my life to him while he was getting his dick wet—nice.
“Yer quick to defend him, but do ya really know him?”
That’s what Sean once said to me. I played it off as just another one of his mind games, but I now realize he’s right. I don’t know Punky at all. He failed to mention he had a son, which I can excuse as it’s clear he hasn’t met him until today.
But did he know he existed? Was he trying to keep him safe as he was with us? It’s what Punky does best—protect the ones he loves.
I can’t help but feel betrayed that he had no qualms seeing anyone bar me when in prison. I understand he was trying to protect us, but the fact he saw Aoife makes me feel sick inside.
I know I moved on with Rory, but Shay’s age reveals Punky was with someone else way before Rory and I ever hooked up. I was pining for him, putting my life on hold while I tried to free him, all the while he was fucking some other woman.
I can’t help but feel betrayed.
“I understand. You know all I’ve ever done was care about ya.”
“I know that. And I don’t deserve it. Yer a good woman, Aoife. Ya saved me in prison. Time and time again.”
Each word is just another kick to the chest, and my heart shatters into a million irreparable pieces.
“I…love you, Puck, and I know ya feel somethin’ for me too. What we went through, no one will understand it.”
I wait for him to deny it. To tell Aoife that the only person who understands him is me. But he doesn’t.
“Aye, yer right. No one will understand it. What we shared is between us, and I won’t forget it.”
Tears spill down my cheeks, wetting the gag his cherished Aoife bound me with. Each kind word he says to her just breaks me further.
“I’ve got to go. I’ll phone ya later.”
When I hear the unmistakable sound of someone’s cheek being kissed, I curse the world. I’ve heard enough.
Seconds turn into minutes, hours as I lie on the bed, attempting to process that Puck was here. He was actually here. But he wasn’t here to save me.
The door opens, and I can smell Aoife’s perfume. She’s here to gloat.
I allow her to remove the gag, moving my jaw from side to side. I don’t say a word. But she knows I heard.
“Sorry ’bout that. I didn’t want my boyfriend to hear.” She is so elated at the fact, her grin almost blinds me.
She has no idea that I know Puck. But I also have no idea if she’s lying or not. I don’t want to believe he’s her boyfriend, but my spirit is broken. I don’t know anything anymore.
“Why am I here? What use am I to you?”
Aoife smiles broadly. “Yer goin’ to bring my family together. They just don’t know it—yet.”
A shiver runs down my spine because her ominous words come with a warning. It’s only a matter of time until my real use comes to fruition.
Aoife closes the door, once again locking me in my prison, but this time is different. No longer will I wait for someone to save me. It’s time I saved myself, and when I do, every single person who betrayed me will pay.
Every single one…
It’s been three days since I met Shay, and I still don’t know how to process that he may be my son.
When Aoife left suddenly, I thought it was because she found a better job elsewhere, away from the depraved. But when I saw the little boy with blond hair and blue eyes, I realize she left for another reason.
For the first time in a long time, I was speechless. All I could do was stare at the wee lad who can be no more than five years old. He didn’t cower. He stood tall, watching me just as curiously as I was him. I don’t want to believe I could be his father, but I can see the similarities.
Aoife was right. We do share something only she and I can understand. I am grateful for everything she did for me. But I don’t harbor the same feelings for her. I don’t love her. I never did. I know that makes me a heartless bastard, but it’s the truth.
I never asked about Aoife’s life because honestly, I didn’t care. I thought she was riding me because she was caught up in the hype of the Kelly name. We both made the other feel good, and I thought that was enough.
But I was stupid to think no deed goes unpunished.
I’ve asked Aoife for a paternity test, which she’s agreed to, but I’m still waiting.
A car pulls up the drive, and I know by the engine’s sound that it’s Sean.
He’s been keeping a low profile which worries me. What’s he up to?
I can only hope Aoife keeps to her word and doesn’t tell Sean I know about Shay because this is the first time I’ve got the upper hand.
When Sean enters the castle, he whistles, obviously not impressed with her state. “This place has seen better days,” he says, and when he sees the state of me, he shakes his head. “The same can be said about you. What happened to yer face?”
He appears sincere as he examines the stitches in my face, but someone told Cormac I was responsible for Rory’s death, and it wouldn’t surprise me if that someone was Sean.
Dr. Shannon sewed up my face, but he said it’ll leave a scar, which I already knew. As for my other injuries, they’ll heal, as my body is used to the constant beatings.
“I fell down some stairs,” I reply sarcastically. “What do ya want?”
Sean smirks as he peers around at the castle. “This place is a fucking mess.”
“It’s yer fucking mess now,” I reply, seeing as I signed everything over to him.
“Aye, I suppose yer right. Connor would be ragin’ if he were here.”
Clenching my jaw and ignoring the pain shooting down my face, I snarl, “Well, he’s not. Neither is my ma—thanks to you.”
I’ve not forgotten that he’s the final piece to this never-ending puzzle. He is the reason I started my quest for revenge. I just never anticipated it would end this way.
“Cara loved this castle. Even if she hated Connor, this place was always her home. She often wished it was our home—all three of us.”
I exhale slowly, attempting to calm myself down because each time he mentions my mum, it feels like him spitting on her grave.
“I remember she spilled red wine on Connor’s favorite chair.” He laughs as if recalling the memory. “She was so clumsy. We searched all the shops to find a replacement, but it didn’t matter. Connor knew and punished her for it.”
I hate that he’s the only one who can offer me insight into something I so desperately want to know about.
“She was full of life—”
“Before ya stole it from her,” I interrupt, angered.
“I told ya why I had to do it. It was either her or me. I took no pleasure in it.”
“Bullshit,” I snarl, stepping forward. “I was there, remember? I saw what ya did.”