THE RETURN OF THE RED BUTCHER

5

“Is that true?” Simon whispered.

Isabella did not answer at first. Her fingers rested on her baby bump, but her eyes stayed on the floor. The silence stretched until Simon felt it pressing against his chest.

“Isabella,” he said, his voice was rougher now. “Look at me and answer.”

She slowly lifted her face.

“Yes,” she said. “It is true.”

Simon took one step back as if the floor had shifted under him. He stared at her belly, then at her face, trying to force his mind to reject what he had heard.

“No,” he said. “No, that is not possible.”

“It is possible,” Isabella said.

“All those nights,” Simon said, his voice breaking despite his effort to control it. “All the times we were together. All the times you held me and told me we were building something. I thought this child was the result of our love.”

Isabella looked away again.

Simon’s breathing became heavy. “So you were with another man behind my back?”

No one answered.

His eyes moved to Romeo.

Romeo sat calmly, one leg crossed over the other, like he was watching a business negotiation.

“How could you?” Simon asked Isabella. “How could you look me in the eyes every day and let me believe that child was mine?”

Caleb laughed from the bar counter. “Why are you asking such a foolish question? Who would want to carry a child for a stinking fish seller like you?”

Simon’s head turned slowly.

For one dangerous second, Caleb’s smile disappeared.

Simon imagined crossing the room, grabbing him by the throat, and ripping the arrogance out of him. It would be easy. Too easy. But Caleb was not the wound. He was only noise around it.

Fiona leaned forward, enjoying herself. “Since we are telling the truth, let him hear everything." She said straight and unapologetically. "For your information Simon, Isabella and Romeo have been close for two years. Two good years. While you were smelling of fish and pretending to be a husband, she had someone better.”

“Mother,” Isabella said sharply. “That is enough.”

“No, let him hear it,” Fiona said. “He should know why he was never enough.”

Simon looked at Isabella. “Two years?”

Isabella’s jaw tightened. “This is not about the past anymore.”

“It is my marriage,” Simon said. “It is my life. It is my shame you all gathered here to enjoy.”

Romeo finally spoke. “Simon, do not make this uglier than it has to be.”

Simon looked at him. “You slept with my wife, and you are advising me on manners?”

Romeo’s smile thinned.

Isabella picked up the brown file from the center table and opened it. “Sign the divorce papers. I do not want this to drag.”

Simon did not move.

She pulled out the documents and placed them on the table. “I know you were committed to the family and to the company in your own way. So I am willing to let you walk away with fifteen million dollars.”

The room grew quiet.

Simon stared at her.

Fifteen million dollars.

He remembered the years he had sat beside John Robertson, correcting deals, blocking traps, and guiding decisions that brought Robertson Oil over a hundred million dollars in profit. He remembered how easily he could have taken money from the company if greed had been in him. He had not stolen one coin.

Now Isabella was offering him a small piece of what his mind had helped create, as if she was doing charity.

“Fifteen million,” Simon said quietly. “Is that what you think I am worth?”

“It is more than enough for a man like you,” Irene said.

Caleb smirked. “More than selling fish can give you in ten lifetimes.”

Simon ignored them. His eyes remained on Isabella. “This Romeo guy, do you love him?”

Isabella paused.

“Answer me,” Simon said. “Do you love Romeo?”

Romeo adjusted his suit, but said nothing.

Simon stepped closer to Isabella. “Is anyone forcing you? Is your mother pressuring you? Is this about greed, status, or power? Tell me the truth, Isabella. If someone is poisoning your mind against me, I will go through seven hells to silence them.”

Fiona scoffed. “Listen to this madman.”

Simon did not look at her. “I am asking my wife a question and I am expecting you to shut the fuck up.”

“I am not your wife anymore,” Isabella said.

“You say that but you are still wearing my ring.”

Her fingers twitched slightly.

Simon’s voice softened. “If they are pushing you, say it. If they are threatening you, say it. If Romeo is using something against you, say it. I will destroy every bad egg whispering around this marriage.”

For a moment, Simon hoped.

He hoped Isabella would break.

He hoped she would cry.

He hoped she would say she was trapped, confused, frightened, anything except what came next.

Isabella held her nose.

“I was never trapped, Simon. I never loved you the way you thought I did.”

Simon froze.

“You stink,” she said, her voice cold. “Your life stinks. Being your wife was never good for my past, never good for my present, and it will never be good for my future.”

The words hit him like a bomb.

This was the woman he had chosen after years of blood, death, and chaos. The woman whose laughter had once made him believe there was still something gentle left for him in the world. The woman he would have protected from kings, generals, and devils if it came to that.

Now she looked at him like he was dirt under her shoe.

“Sign the contract,” Isabella said. “Once the annulment is official, this marriage will be over. I cannot wait to begin a better life with Romeo Benjamin.”

Simon looked around the room.

Fiona looked satisfied. Irene looked entertained. Caleb looked proud. Uncle James watched in silence. Romeo looked like a man waiting to collect a prize.

For the first time, Simon wished John Robertson was alive. Not to save him. Not to beg for him. Just to tell these fools who had really stood in their house all these years.

Simon spat on the floor.

“You are all animals,” he said. “No level-headed person can come out from your midst.”

Fiona gasped. “How dare you?”

Simon turned toward the exit.

His hands were shaking now. Not from fear. But from restraint.

Dark thoughts rose inside him, old and familiar. He could destroy this house. He could end the lives of every person in this room before the guards outside understood what had happened. He had not been called the Red Butcher for nothing.

But he had sworn never to wake those demons again.

He had to leave.

Just as he reached the doorway, Caleb stepped in front of him and shoved the divorce papers toward his chest.

“You useless, stinking, wretched, failed gold-digger,” Caleb said. “Sign the fucking divorce contract so we can legally get rid of you.”

Simon slowly lifted his eyes.

And Caleb suddenly realized Simon was no longer looking at him like a man.

He was looking at him like prey.

Had those demons woken up yet?