Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 147: Her Silence, His storm [VI]

"We’ve found him," Gray said, stepping into my path.

I didn’t pause. Just adjusted my cuffs.

"Send me the location," I said. "Now."

*****

The neighborhood was too quiet. Too clean.

Suburban. Trimmed hedges. Little white fences that tried too hard to look innocent.

I pulled up outside the house Gray flagged. No guards. No traps. Just Caden.

He was sprawled on a recliner on the back porch like he didn’t have a care in the world. Sunglasses on. Shirt undone. A lowball glass of something expensive in one hand.

The moment he heard my footsteps, he didn’t even turn around.

"Did you miss me so much you came visiting, brother?" he said lazily, lifting his drink in a mock toast. "How sweet."

I didn’t answer.

I kicked the leg of the recliner.

The chair tipped hard. His drink splashed across his chest as he caught himself.

"Whoa," he laughed, setting the glass down. "Easy. You made me spill. That stuff cost more than most people make in a week."

I grabbed his collar and hauled him up before he could even finish the sentence.

His sunglasses slipped sideways. His smile didn’t.

"Why did you do it," I said, each word low, dangerous. "Why her?"

Caden tilted his head. "Do what? You’ll have to be more specific. I tend to upset a lot of people."

I punched him.

His head snapped to the side, and the smile finally faltered.

"Need me to jog your memory?" I asked.

Blood welled from the corner of his lip.

He wiped it with his thumb, looked at the smear, then laughed.

"God, you’re fun when you’re angry," he said. "But this... this isn’t about me, is it? This is about the girl."

My grip on his collar tightened.

"Careful," he added. "You wouldn’t want the neighbors to see the heir of Walton Empire beating up his poor little brother in broad daylight, would you?" freewёbnoνel.com

I punched him again.

Harder this time.

"You tried to kill her."

"She’s still breathing," he muttered through a cough. "Can’t blame me if your security’s shit."

I slammed him against the porch column, hard enough to rattle the frame.

"You planned it," I said through clenched teeth. "The sauna. The hydrotherapy. You paid someone to sabotage it."

Caden winced, but still grinned. "You give me too much credit. Maybe she just had a bad spa day."

I kneed him in the stomach.

The air rushed out of him in a pained grunt, and for the first time, something other than amusement flashed in his eyes. Pain. Surprise. He doubled over, my grip on his collar the only thing holding him up.

"She has made you weak," He coughed, breath ragged, the proudness slipping—but not gone. "Why are you acting like this is bigger than what you did sixteen years ago?"

My grip didn’t loosen. Instead, it froze, my knuckles turning bone-white against the silk of his shirt. Sixteen years ago. The words were a cold current, rushing through the rage, cutting right through me. The hum of the quiet street, the perfectly trimmed hedges, the innocent white picket fences – it all vanished. The world narrowed to Caden’s smirking face, bruised and defiant.

"Ah," he wheezed, a ragged breath. He saw the flicker, the momentary crack in my composure. Victory, even a small one, shone in his eyes. "You remember. Good. Sometimes I worry your memory isn’t what it used to be. Or maybe you just prefer to forget."

"Why are you bringing that up?" I asked, my voice colder than the wind.

He laughed.

The sound grated like rusted nails. "You fucking piece of shit."

My knuckles finally loosened, not releasing him, but letting go of some of the white-hot fury that had been driving me. It was replaced by a familiar, chilling emptiness. Sixteen years ago. The words hung between us, a ghost in the otherwise pristine suburban air.

"That little act?" Caden continued, his voice regaining some strength, though still rough. He gestured dismissively with a bruised hand, indicating the luxurious house around us, the quiet street. "This little attempt at normalcy? This ’save the damsel’ bullshit? It’s all a lie. Just like you."

"What does that have to do with her?" I demanded, the question a whisper of ice. I didn’t need him to jog my memory. It was always there, a scar tissue over my heart. But I needed to know why he was dredging it up now, linking it to the woman I cared about.

He pushed off me, stumbling back a step, catching his balance against the railing. His lip was swollen, blood streaking his chin, but the glint in his eyes was pure, unadulterated malice. "Everything," he spat. "It has everything to do with her. You think you get to move on? You think you get to be happy? After what you did?"

My fist moved before I could stop it—pure instinct, pure fury. The blow landed hard. Caden hit the wall again, this time lower. He coughed, doubled over. Blood hit the concrete.

And then, through the wheeze, he smiled.

"Go on," he said. "Kill me. Like you killed her."

The world went still.

My lungs locked. My vision tunneled.

He was still smiling when I slammed him to the ground.

My hands found his throat.

His voice.

Her name, unspoken.

The years I buried beneath silence and control tried to claw their way back to the surface.

With a ragged gasp, I released him.

I shoved myself back, stumbling to my feet, breathing as if I were the one who had been deprived of air. Caden lay on the pristine porch flagstones, gasping, coughing, a hand protectively at his throat. The smile was gone, replaced by a look of wild, furious disappointment.

"You coward," he wheezed, rolling onto his side. "You can’t even finish it."

"I will say this once," I said. My voice was cold. Calm. Dead serious.

"What happened that time—wasn’t my fault."

Caden’s expression twisted—but I didn’t give him time to respond.

"Stay away from my woman," I said, straightening my cuffs. "Or I’ll do more than just make you bleed. I’ll make you disappear."

"Coward," he rasped again, spitting blood onto the pristine concrete. "You always were."

I turned and walked off the porch, each step deliberate, crunching on the pristine gravel path that led back to the street. The sounds of my own measured footsteps were the only ones I cared to hear. The perfect green lawn, the cheerful afternoon sun—it was all a facade, a painted backdrop for the ugliness I was leaving behind.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is fr(e)𝒆novelkiss