I’d never had money. I’d been happy in my family of lower means with my beaten up cello, annoying little brother, and strict but doting parents.
Everything I ever loved was gone.
And who was to blame?
The Chinmoku.
The TV interview suddenly went from fakery to full of purpose.
I’d been burning with the need to extract revenge and honour the deaths of my family for years. Now, I had a way to bring that revenge to fruition.
In a fit of rage, I decided to use this fleeting fame to my benefit. Glowering down the camera lens, I answered the questions the presenter asked. I preened for the suckers at home wishing they were in my shoes and dreaming of the day they’d have such a stroke of luck.
Meanwhile, I placed gauntlet after gauntlet on the Chinmoku.
I’d changed my name but not my face.
If they were watching, they’d know I wouldn’t give up. It was them or me. And eventually, they’d hunt me down. I’d buy every weapon I could and learn every skill there was so I could murder them one by one when they finally did.
Revenge and payback—two things I’d dedicate my life to.
One of death and one of debts.
After that night, I kept Oliver Gold’s license in my wallet, and paid an private investigator to hunt down his address, social security, and bank account details, and sent him thirty million dollars.
The rest of the money had a job to do—earn itself three times over so I had funds for my revenge, my family, and to pay back my debt.
A few weeks later, after extensive research into what fields would pay best dividends, I decided to purchase a super yacht business. The numbers thrown around by billionaires for flashy toys was obscene.
I’d invest the first five hundred million into making the best yacht I could. I’d sell it for profit. I’d earn a reputation. I’d do it again and again until everything was back to rights.
The moment I decided Monte Carlo was the place to reinvent myself and plot my enemy’s demise, I turned my back on America and boarded a plane to Monaco.
“Elder? El...you’re scaring me.”
I blinked.
Pim slowly came back into view. Her eyes strained; mouth pinched in pain. Looking down, I snatched my hand from hers. I’d squeezed her so hard her fingertips were white from blood loss. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She rubbed her fingers, half-smiling, half-grimacing. “You disappeared on me there. Are you all right?”
Was I all right?
I’d thought I was. It’d been years since I fully relived where the money had come from. I’d even managed to live with the guilt—justifying it because I paid Oliver Gold and still managed to build my yachts to earn more.
Touching the money to give Pim the origami lesson had somehow shot me down bitter memory lane.
Why? What was on my mind?
Fuck, everything is on my mind.
Perhaps, it was because I was sick of waiting for the Chinmoku to make the first move. Perhaps, I was over begging for a fresh start with my family. Perhaps, I was done trying to hold myself back where Pim was concerned.
Selix had told me once to go easier on myself. To accept the good as well as the bad. I’d been fighting Pim since the day my heart first took notice of her. She was the opposite of me. She was everything good, and the more I fell for her, the worst I dragged her into my world and made her bad.
Goddammit, I’m exhausted.
Jamming my elbows onto the table, I held my head in my hands. My mind formulated lies and discarded them. Only the truth tasted decent on my tongue. “Everything you see? Everything you know...it’s all a lie.”
She froze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the Phantom, the submarine, the warehouse in Monaco...it’s all fake.”
“What do you mean fake?”
“I mean I stole it.”
Pim fell silent for a moment before she lowered her voice. “How do you mean stole it?” She shook her head. “That can’t be possible. I saw your logo on the wall in that warehouse. I saw how the staff loved you. I saw your house on the hill where your mother stayed. I saw—”
“You saw nothing. It’s all stolen.”
“How can you say that? I can feel your sweat and blood in everything around us, Elder. I know how hard you work. How meticulous your designs are. How many clients you’ve delivered product to. Something like that can’t be faked or stolen.”
Sitting taller, I forced myself to be rational and start at the beginning. “The warehouse, the company...you’re right, those are real. I created those from nothing, and they generate incredible wealth. I am the reason that company exists.”
“Then what do you mean—?”
“I mean I could never have afforded to buy that house or the warehouse or the lumber and staff and machinery required to build such vessels without first stealing the money from someone else.”
Taking her hand again, I begged her with my eyes to let me touch her. She didn’t shy away—if anything, she leaned forward with no judgement or criticism on her face.
If I didn’t already love her, I’d love her for that alone.
Her gaze turned forest green with earnest acceptance. “Tell me.”
The only way to do it was to spit it all out. “I stole a man’s wallet in New York. Inside was a lottery ticket. It turned out to be a jackpot of over half a billion dollars.” My head hung. “I kept it when I should’ve given it back.”
She fell utterly silent. She stared gobsmacked, her head shaking slightly.
My heart died, believing this was the point where it was all too much for her. Where she finally said...’thanks but no thanks.’
Instead, she blinked as things shifted over her face, solidified in her mind, and were once again accepted with no questions asked.
Who the hell was this girl? How could she be so kind and generous with her boundaries of right and wrong? How could I ever repay her?
Squeezing my fingers, she murmured, “This makes so much sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“The guilt you carry. The shame I don’t understand. You’ve never accepted the crime, so you pay for it constantly.”
I didn’t admit she was right on every level or tell her that in another few years, I would’ve paid off the man I robbed in full. I’d turned his winnings into double the amount. Soon, my debt would be clear, and I could finally admit I used him as an interest-free loan to get ahead, provide for my family—even if they didn’t want to be provided for—and right the sins of my past.
I inhaled deeply, ready to deliver my final confession. Weren’t revealing truths you’d harboured for years supposed to leave you light-hearted?
Somehow, I felt heavier, more tired than I’d ever been.
Bringing her hand to my lips, I whispered against her knuckles, “The man who saved you is a fraud doing his goddamn best to make up for all the shit he’s done. But...it’s never enough.”
Tears sparkled in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut in, needing to finish, needing to end this. “Even my name is a lie.”
She gasped.
“You are Tasmin Blythe. That is your true name even if you don’t want it. I understand that more than you know. Ever since I met you, I’ve done my utmost to steal your letters, rob your past, and learn everything about you. Yet, I’m a fucking hypocrite.”