Professor Cline: Redeemed (Professor #2)

With everything I’d seen, this had to be the hardest thing I’d done.

“He runs his side and I run mine. It’s the way it’s always been. Why? What are you getting at?”

I took a deep breath and saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to find Tony on his way over with a smile on his face. I shook my head slightly, wordlessly asking him not to come over, and he nodded in response.

“John isn’t a good man,” I stated as I turned back to meet Victor’s gaze. “Did you know Mom was going to leave him?” I asked. He shook his head and I looked down at my hands. “The night she died, I heard them fighting. She said she couldn’t be with him after knowing what he was doing.”

I glanced up to him again. “At the time, nothing they were arguing about meant anything to me. The only thing that registered was the fact that she was leaving. I didn’t want her to leave without me. I didn’t want to stay with John. That’s when I ran for her, knocking her down the stairs and causing her death.”

Victor frowned, and the images of that night flooded my mind. I looked down at the table and stared as memory after memory assaulted me. “It was the worst day of my life and probably will be until the day I die, but that’s not the only thing that happened. I learned a new side to John,” I stated as I leaned back in my chair. “He called someone after she’d fallen, while I was sobbing hysterically on the landing, and told the person it was done.” I could see the mask of confusion on Victor’s face.

“That it was done, as in she was dead?” he asked, unbelieving.

I nodded. “He said, and I quote, ‘I didn’t have to do it. Mason did it for me.’ Then he told me she wasn’t really my mother and I shouldn’t be so sad about it.”

Victor squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “I’m not understanding exactly what you’re trying to tell me, Mason.”

I held up my hand in a gesture to get him to listen. “I know, just let me get this out.” He nodded and I continued. “I’ve never forgotten the words he spoke to me that day, and I never knew what my mother had found until my seventeenth birthday.”

I wiped my hand across my forehead again as Victor sat up straighter in his seat. I leaned forward, rested my elbows on the table and finally told him.

“John is involved in human trafficking,” I said quietly.

Victor scrunched up his face and looked at me as if he’d just eaten a lemon. “That’s just ridiculous.”

I’d prepared myself for that type of reaction.

I simply nodded at his reply. “It does sound ridiculous, but I’m also almost ninety-nine percent positive he’s dealing the money through the company.”

And there it was. That slight tilt of his head as he took in my words, like he could almost see how that was possible.

Victor sat back in his chair and pulled at his waistband. “I’m not exactly sure what to say to your allegations. You do realize you’re accusing John with money laundering and human trafficking, both of which are very serious offenses if convicted.”

I nodded. “Yes, I know.”

“And how do you know he’s involved in human trafficking? I’m a defense attorney, son. I need some hard evidence.”

I knew what he was getting at, but I didn’t have anything. “I’m the evidence. Look,” I said, letting out a sigh. “I know this sounds farfetched and I don’t have the evidence to back anything up, but that’s why I’m—”

“What happened to you when you were seventeen?” he asked, cutting me off.

I frowned. “What?”

“You said you didn’t know what you’re mother was talking about until you were seventeen. How did you find out? That’s the hard evidence I’d need.”

I was quiet for a moment as flashes of Sophia lying tied to the bed ran through my mind. I still, to this day, felt disgusted with the way I behaved as she writhed in pain on the bed. It was as if something unlocked itself from my mind that day, and I didn’t want to talk about it, but I had to give him something.

I picked at my nails and stared at the table as I spoke, remembering every step I took that day.

“He presented me with a girl,” I confessed, softly. “She was beautiful, every seventeen-year-old’s fantasy. At first, I thought she was a prostitute or something, but I knew something was off. She was tied to the bed, blindfolded, and drugged. He had her naked and ready for me, like some kind of fucking present.” I looked up to meet his gaze and he was staring at me intently. “It was all a test. What he called my initiation.”

He stared at me quietly; I presumed he was letting my words sink in so he could think them over. Then he sat back in his seat and let out a heavy sigh.

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