The Hand of Death

Chapter 2

Roman’s eyelids twitched as he stared at the cheque.

“Twenty-two thousand dollars. For what?”

Even if Maren intended to compensate him for his seven years in prison, what exactly was she calculating?

Eight dollars an hour? Even a high school graduate could earn that much without sacrificing seven years of his life.

Maren’s expression darkened.

“Did I stutter?” she hissed, throwing the cheque at his chest. “Take it or leave it. It’s your choice.”

A dull ache spread through Roman’s chest.

He didn’t understand.

Why was she treating him like this? They had no problem before he left for prison.

“Honey, what’s going on? Everyone’s waiting for your toast.” A man’s voice cut through the crowd at that moment.

Roman turned toward it, watching as the newcomer approached Maren and casually wrapped an arm around her waist.

She immediately smiled, tilting her head as the man planted a kiss on her neck.

Roman recognized him instantly.

Leland Pierce.

Seven years ago, the Elwood family had complained bitterly about how Leland had suddenly gone abroad, leaving Maren devastated on the altar.

Now, here he was, standing beside her as though he’d never left.

And the way she leaned into him left little room for doubt.

Was this her new husband? Was he Nico’s father?

Maren’s smile vanished the moment she noticed Roman watching them.

“This bastard refuses to leave,” she complained. “I’ve already offered him money for the time he spent in prison, but he insists on making a scene. I don’t know what else he wants.”

Leland glanced at Roman.

Recognition dawned on his face, followed by a faint, dismissive smile. “Oh. It’s you.”

He then turned to Maren. “How much did you offer him?”

Maren felt the back of her neck numbly before answering, “Twenty-two thousand.”

Leland chuckled. “Forget it, honey. I’ll give him a hundred thousand. That should be more than enough to get him off our backs.”

He beckoned to a nearby servant for a cheque book.

After writing the amount, he tossed the cheque toward Roman.

It fell short, landing on the floor between them.

He didn’t even bother to check whether Roman had picked it up.

Instead, he took Maren’s hand and started walking away.

He seemed to remember something and paused, tilting his head to look at Maren.

“Oh, that reminds me. Don’t you still have something that belongs to him?”

“Right. How could I forget?” Maren blinked before understanding what he meant. She turned toward one of the servers. “Bring Baby.”

Behind her, Roman’s hands slowly curled into fists.

Seven years.

He had spent seven years taking the blame for a crime Maren had committed, believing that his sacrifice would protect the woman he loved and their unborn child.

Yet, while he rotted in prison, she had married another man and built an entirely new family.

Had she even been pregnant when he’d gone to prison? She had shown him some ultrasound pictures and he believed her without a doubt.

What if she had lied to him knowing he’d do as she wanted to protect them?

“Are you even allowed to do this?” Roman demanded. “Marry another man while you’re still married to me?”

Maren laughed without turning to look at him. “Of course I’m allowed to. I’m no longer married to you.”

Roman stared at her. “What?”

“What do you take me for?” she asked mockingly. “Before you went to prison, I asked you to sign a few documents, remember? I slipped the divorce papers in with the rest.”

For a moment, Roman couldn’t speak.

She had divorced him even before he left. And he’d signed the papers without knowing.

“You presumptuous fool. I’m Maren Elwood. Why would I marry a nameless nobody like you? You caught me at a vulnerable moment and took advantage of me.” Maren folded her arms. Her lips curled. “But look at the good that came out of it. You were an insignificant wimp back then, and prison gave you something to look forward to for seven years.”

Leland gestured dismissively at the cheque on the floor. “If you weren’t so ungrateful, you’d be thanking her!”

Roman lowered his head and let out a short, disbelieving breath.

What kind of twisted logic was this?

He was the one who gave up seven years of his life for her, yet she was acting as though she’d done him a favor.

He slowly raised his head. “Answer me one question, Maren. Were you ever pregnant?”

Before she could respond, a frightened voice rang through the hall.

“I-I don’t want to… M-Mommy!”

Everyone turned.

Two men were dragging a little girl of about six toward Maren. She struggled desperately, grabbing at anyone within reach as though begging someone to save her.

The men pried her fingers away and continued pulling her forward.

The moment the girl spotted Maren, she twisted free and ran toward her.

“Mommy!”

She had barely reached her when Maren raised her hand.

SLAP!

The little girl fell to the floor after being slapped hard across the face.

A hush fell over the gathering.

Maren immediately accepted a pack of wipes from a nearby server and began scrubbing her palm, her face twisting in disgust.