The all too familiar sound of a bullet leaving the barrel of a gun tears through me. I stop dead. The metal explosion vibrates in my skull before the walls absorb the last echoes. My first reaction is to listen. For sounds of life? That she missed? I don’t know.

Silence.

My body is heavy. I’m slow in turning and heading back to the office. My fingers hesitate on the knob of the open door. I can’t breathe. It feels like I’m ten years old, under water in the swimming hole, counting to sixty. The weight of the door moves in my hand. I don’t want to push it open wider, but I don’t have a choice. Just like when I was twelve, Magda took my choice away when she pulled that trigger. The door swings open all the way, a crack of light falling over my shoes. I know what awaits, but the sight shakes me. Magda is slumped face-down on her desk, blood everywhere. In her hand, she clutches the gun with the ivory shaft, the same gun she used to shoot motivation into me.

Her unmoving body looks unreal. She’s too strong to be splayed out like this. Too proud. Too much of a fighter. This must’ve been the end of the fight for her. It sure as hell is for me. My chest deflates and rises. Air fills my lungs, one painful drag after another, while her words tumble around in my skull.

This is what it comes to.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dial a friend, Captain Barnard at the Brixton police station, and explain what happened, minus the back history surrounding my father. Minutes later, detectives swamp the office.

Barnard gives Scott, who is coming to, a sidelong glance. “What happened to him?”

“I restrained him for questioning.”

He writes something on a notepad and regards me from under his brows. “You and Magda had a fight?”

“A disagreement.”

“What about, if I may ask?”

“A family matter that concerns my wife.”

“I see.” He continues to scribble. “Did you kill her?”

“No.”

“It’s suicide then?”

“Yes.”

“Ah ha.”

“May I go? My wife just had a baby.”

“I’ll let you know if you need to come in for further questioning.”

Barnard’s tone borders on boredom. He wasn’t a friend of Magda, which is why I called him. He resented the criminality her loan shark business brought to an already crime-ridden Brixton.

Fighting claustrophobia, I rush outside and stop in the sunlight. What do I feel? Guilt? Relief? Sorrow? Pity? Magda and I were never close, but she was my mother. Good or bad, family is family, and I alone am left to carry the sins of ours. My life is falling apart, so I do what I’ve always done. I carry on.

The world weighs on my shoulders when I call Rhett to give him and Quincy the news before they see it in the media. Rhett offers to fetch me, but I decline.

“I do have another favor to ask,” I say.

Rhett is a reliable rock, as always. “Shoot.”

With the funeral to take care of, I won’t get around to everything. “Can you and Quincy help with some baby shopping?”

He hesitates for a heartbeat. If it weren’t for the circumstances, the fear in his voice would’ve made me smile. “What kind of shopping?”

“The stuff babies need. You know, a pushchair, car seat, crib, those kinds of things.”

He swallows with an audible gulp. “Uh … I guess.”

“Good man. Take my cheque book.” Rhett has signing power. “It’s in my office.”

“Wait,” he says when I’m about to hang up. “What colors? What models?” His tone rises with a hint of panic. “Where do you buy stuff like that?”

“You’ll figure it out. It’ll make Valentina’s life easier when she comes home.”

Mentioning Valentina seals the deal. There’s no lengths my guards won’t go to for my woman.

With my bodyguards taking care of the shopping, I have time to go home and pack clothes for Valentina and Connor before stopping at a florist and jewelry store. Armed with a pair of diamond earrings, a chocolate bouquet, a humongous flower arrangement, and a giant stuffed crocodile, I drive to the clinic. Diamonds in my pocket, flowers under one arm, crocodile under the other, chocolates gripped in my hand, and an overnight bag swinging from the other, I walk through Valentina’s door.

She’s propped up on the pillows in bed. I stop to take her in. Her long lashes fall over her cheek as she stares at her hands. Chocolate-and-wine-colored curls tumble over her shoulders, partially obscuring the soft curve of her breast under the hospital robe. The bronze glow is back on her cheeks, this morning’s paleness gone. The sight of her makes me weak. I must be turning into a big fucking crybaby, because I’m fighting back tears for the third time since yesterday. Just as I think she’s not going to look at me, her lashes lift, and her brown eyes meet mine. Rivers of sadness flow through their depths, leaving muddy traces I swear I can see all the way to her soul. Reluctant to start the unavoidable subject we need to discuss, I stall for time by placing the crocodile at the foot end of the bed. “For Connor.”

A smile plucks at the corner of her lips. “You don’t think it’s too small?”

I shrug, shifting the weight of the flowers. “I thought it would go with the jungle theme.”

Her gaze moves to the white and blue lilies.

“For you.” I put the flowers on the bureau against the wall. “They smell good.”

“Thank you.”

I leave the chocolates next to the flowers and unzip the bag. “I packed you and Connor some clothes.” I transfer the items to the closet. “If I forgot anything, just say, and I’ll bring whatever you need.” I finish by unpacking her toilet bag in the en-suite bathroom.

When I return, I catch her big, questioning eyes on me. Unarmed, with nothing weighing down my arms, I’m exposed and vulnerable. I have no choice but to give her what she really deserves––the truth.

My bad leg aches when I cross the floor and stop next to the bed. I can’t help myself from reaching out and cupping my woman’s cheek. For a heart-stopping moment, she presses into my palm, and then the heat of her skin is gone.

I let go, my fingers trailing over her jawline and down her neck. “How do you feel?”

Her lashes lower, half-moons obscuring her expression. “I’m good.”

A wall breaks within me and emotions flood my composure. My voice trembles. “I’m sorry.” Flopping down on the chair next to the bed, I grab her hand and press her fingers to my lips. “I’m so fucking sorry.” For deceiving her, for the pain she suffered, for almost losing her to death. After Carly, I wouldn’t be able to cope with losing her or Connor, too.

“Why?” Her breath catches on a sob. “Why did you do it?”

The question is loaded. There are so many answers to that one, single question I don’t know where to start.

“I know everything, Gabriel.”

Not everything. And it will kill me to tell her. I nod and swallow, trying to find my voice. “I know you know, beautiful.”

Tears make her eyes shine like gold nuggets in the clear water of a river. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her hand trembles in my hold. “Did you get a kick out of making me relay the whole, ugly affair? Why me, Gabriel? Did you need to finish what your father had started?”

A wave of sickness rolls over me. “God, no. No, Valentina. I didn’t know it was him until I found the USB in my computer this morning. I’ve been chasing the men who did this to you since the moment you told me. You have to believe me. I swear to God, if they weren’t already dead, I would’ve killed them with my bare hands for what they did to you.” My tone drops to a whisper. “If I could, I would’ve made my father pay.”

“How…?” Her voice breaks. It takes a moment before she can speak again. “How did Magda find the tape?”

I stare at her for three full seconds. Longer. This is the part where she’ll hate me even more, if that’s possible. “Charlie.”

“Charlie?”

“Your father killed Barney for the tape. He gave it to Charlie to hide.”

“Barney. He was with your father.” The color leaves her cheeks. “My father killed Barney? And Charlie remembered?” Her eyes grow large as understanding bleeds into them. “The hypnoses?”

“Yes,” I say somberly. “That’s how Magda found out Charlie buried the tape in the graveyard, in the plot your father had bought for him.”

Resolution marks the square set of her shoulders as she steels herself for what’s to come. “You better start from the beginning.”

I tell her everything Magda said, leaving nothing out. I tell her my father was a sick bastard obsessed with an under-aged girl, and his obsession led to the destruction of not only her, but also my family. I tell her how the mafia paid and threatened Lambert Roos to call off the betrothal, and that I was supposed to take his place, ironically have taken his place. I tell her about Jerry, the trap Magda set for Charlie, and maybe the hardest part, that I was supposed to kill her, but that she already knew. She knew the nasty fact and still tried to build something with me. This is how big her heart is, but no heart can be big enough to process and forgive the depth of what I’m laying at her feet now.

She hears me out to the very end, and when my words dry up, she asks, “Why did you trick me?”

I rub her fingertips over my lips, back and forth, back and forth, pleading with my eyes for understanding as I gather my words.

“It was the only way to save you.”

“From Magda.”

“Yes.”

“Why did she do it? Why show me the tape?”

“Giving you the tape was her way of trying to drive you away. I don’t believe it was her intention to force you into early labor.”

She stares at me for the longest time while silent tears streak her cheeks. Finally, she whispers, “What now, Gabriel?”

There’s so much loss in her tone. The words sound broken coming from her lips. What now? How does one move on after something like this? How does she pick up the pieces of her life and build a new one? My heart aches for her, but my girl is strong. She’s loyal, determined, loving, and brave. She’ll make it.

“Magda is dead. She put a gun to her head when I confronted her this morning.”

Her complexion pales further. “No.”

No longer able to keep my distance, I climb next to her onto the bed and pull her into my arms. The minute my body molds around hers, she snaps. Big, insufferable sobs shake her shoulders. I soothe her the only way I know, holding her close. I push Valentina’s head against my chest, willing her to purge her soul with bitter tears.

Valentina’s cries must’ve alarmed a nurse who comes into the room and asks if we’re all right. Taking in Valentina’s state, she addresses me. “Post-natal blues. If it doesn’t go away within a couple of days, call her doctor.” She straightens the bed sheets and leaves without posing further questions.

I take the box from my pocket and place it on Valentina’s lap. “I wanted to get you something memorable so you never forget how brave you were.” I kiss her lips. “Always remember that you fought and survived.”

The words are charged. We both know what I really mean. She survived my family. If she can survive Gabriel Louw, she can survive anything.

“Open it, please,” I say when she doesn’t reach for the box.

After a second, she pulls the ribbon free. Painstakingly slow, she removes the wrapping paper and regards the golden logo on the velvet for what seems like ages before she lifts the lid.

She bites her lip. “I can’t.”

“Don’t say no. This is for me, not you.”

“Will it make you feel better?”

Nothing can make me feel better. “Yes.”

She lifts the diamonds from the box and fixes them in her ears. They suit her perfectly. She looks like she was made for flawless, brilliant stones. I take my time eternalizing the picture in my mind.

“Thank you,” I say, feeling those two words to the bottom of my soul.

I’m not ready to go, but there’s much to take care of. A lifetime’s planning needs to happen in five days. I take her telephone from my pocket and leave it on the nightstand. Cupping her face, I kiss her forehead. The past is a thick, dark cloud stifling the air between us. Nothing can be said or done to take it away. All I can hope is that my decision will make it better.

* * *

Inside, I’m hacked to pieces. My soul is broken. There’s nothing left of the woman I once was or the one I could’ve been. I’m still a burnt-out volcano––ashes and black––but where that burn was fueled by fear and anger when Gabriel first broke down my door, now it’s the result of inconsolable sadness. The crater that used to be my heart is bubbling with emotions of loss, shame, deceit, and worthlessness. I’ve lost so much of myself I don’t know if there’s enough left to build myself up from the cold embers of destruction. Gabriel’s father took something from me I was supposed to save for the man I’d one day love. He took more than my innocence. He took my ability to have a normal relationship with a normal young man. Maybe that’s why I fell for Gabriel. Maybe I can only have unhealthy, unequal, anything-but-normal relationships with older, twisted men. Owen Louw took my joy for life and gave me nightmares and shame instead. Because of a moment in time when he took something he shouldn’t have wanted, I lost my parents and my future. I lost my beautiful Charles to a boy in the shell of a man. Because of Owen’s crime, we became outcasts who lived in poverty with the cruelty of people like Tiny. When the time came, we would’ve paid the ultimate price––our lives.

Then there was Gabriel. Because of him, Charlie and I didn’t die the day he came for us. I’d like to believe there was more than lust. A small part of me likes to think it was the kernel of something greater, something deeper. I have to believe he feels more than a physical attraction or even a sick obsession, because the seed of pleasure and pain he planted in me germinated to undeniable attachment and care. The fragile stalk of affection that shot up in my heart from the rotten secrets of our past grew as thick and sturdy as a tree. That tree may have sprouted in the fermenting layers of deceit, but that very compost made the branches rise high and strong. The addictions Gabriel gave me are woven like ivy around that trunk. They are grafted with the plant and the roots. They are part of who I am. In the center of it all is one, encompassing emotion. Love.

Despite everything, I love Gabriel. It’ll take time to forgive and deal with my past, and great effort to work toward trusting Gabriel again, but there’s positive in the negative. If not for that fatal day of thirteen February, I’d be married to Lambert Roos, living a loveless life in a run-down house in the south of Johannesburg with five or six kids, putting red lipstick on just to get through the day. If Magda hadn’t orchestrated Charlie’s debt at Napoli’s, I wouldn’t have walked in the night I laid eyes on Gabriel. If Gabriel weren’t supposed to have killed me, he wouldn’t have saved me. I’ll always mourn my parents and what happened to Charlie. My scars will never fade completely, but my past doesn’t have to dictate who I become. I choose not to be a victim. Owen may have broken my body and ruined my youth, but I won’t give him my spirit.

Gabriel broke me, and he made me whole again. He taught me the meaning of love and gave me a beautiful baby who takes that love to a whole different level. When he took me from Berea, he didn’t give me a choice, and I’ve floated in the blameless absolution he offered for far too long. Gabriel’s prisoner or not, it’s time to take a stand. Back then, I took an unwilling vow to pay off the debt for nine years. Now I’ll make my promises willingly. I’d never want a killer as a father for Connor, but Gabriel works for Michael, now. There’s nothing left standing between us. I choose this love. It’s mine to have and to hold, and I’ll give it my damnedest best shot until death do us part.

* * *

The next few days pass in a blur. Between painting the nursery and arranging Magda’s funeral, I stay with Valentina and Connor as often and long as possible. Quincy, Rhett, and I have the baby equipment covered, or at least I think so. I have no clue if the milliard things we bought remotely covers everything, because I hadn’t been involved in preparations for Carly. That was taken care of by a nurse and interior decorator. Readying a room for Connor gives me immense pleasure. I install a baby monitor with webcam so Valentina can watch him from anywhere in the house. I put up barriers at the top and bottom of the stairs, protective covers on all the corners of the tables and counters, and baby locks on the cupboards with cleaning and hazardous products. I fix a lockable cover on the Jacuzzi, put bars in front of all the upstairs windows, and install an alarm and fence around the swimming pool. Certain that the house is baby safe, I pull out all the poisonous plants in the garden, as well as cover up the fishpond. I read on the internet a toddler can drown in as little as two centimeters of water. I take Charlie to visit Valentina and Connor and prep him on being a good uncle. Rhett and Quincy are at the hospital more than home, eager to try out all the contraptions they bought and disappointed when they’re told they’d have to wait until Connor can maintain his body temperature and has gained sufficient weight.

Magda’s funeral is the day before Valentina comes home. I arranged it like this on purpose, not wanting her to be a part of the event. Magda doesn’t deserve her parting wishes, and I doubt Valentina would want to pay her any. The service is private, for family only, which means just me. It’s not that I don’t want her friends and business associates to pay their respects. I just can’t face the sharks who’ll circle the waters, waiting eagerly for bits of bait as to how I’m going to handle the business promotions, new appointments, pay-offs, and bribes. It seems fitting that it’s me alone to witness Magda’s weakest moment, when her coffin is lowered into the earth. Even in death, she takes her rightful place next to my father, the way she’d bought the plots years ago. The old graveyard in Emmarentia is full now with no more space for a soul. My body won’t rest here, and that, too, seems fitting. I said my goodbyes before she died. I cut my ties the day in Napoli’s.

In the late afternoon, Magda’s attorney reads her will. It doesn’t come as a surprise that she’d added a clause. I’m still her sole heir, but the wealth can only be bequeathed or redistributed in the event of my death. Always thorough, Magda made sure I can’t give Valentina or my only surviving child a cent. Magda’s hate for the girl we ruined stretches beyond life, all the way to her grave. Valentina can’t lay a finger on the Louw family fortune, not even as my lawfully, wedded wife, since we got married outside of community of property. Not until I’m dead. Which poses a problem if I’m to give her the freedom I pledged on her life. There’s no way I’m sending her and my child penniless into the world.

I guess I’ll just have to die.