“I did some of what that cunt has done to Mum and me over the years. I stripped everything away and then gave him the pleasure of watching his daughter fall from grace right before his eyes.” I don’t look up as I say this to judge their reactions. I don’t need to. Their disbelief, shock, and disgust burn right into my skin.
“And how do you feel now?” Stella asks. “Vindicated? Free?” she offers.
Dragging my head from the cushion, I look into her angry eyes.
I just stare at her. Apparently, that’s enough, because her expression completely changes.
“Toby,” she sighs, the first bit of softness I’ve heard tonight flowing through her tone. “You’ve fallen for her, haven’t you?”
My lips part to respond, to argue. Because I can’t. I can’t fall for the fucking spawn of Satan’s daughter. I fucking can’t.
But then images of our time together flash through my mind. Her wild smile that first night when we walked into Hades. How grateful she was the night I took her to the waffle shop, stopping her from spending another lonely night in with a tub of ice cream for company. The way she held me so tight the afternoon I rescued her from the coffee shop after she was fired.
“No,” I state, refusing to accept that there is anything more than the revenge I craved so badly.
Seb scoffs at my answer, and I lift a brow.
“I may never have met this woman, but it’s pretty damn clear sitting here that she’s knocked you on your fucking arse, man.”
“Fuck off. She was just a game. One that I’ve won.”
“So what were you hoping for? You cause Jonas some heartbreak by hurting Jodie and it would suddenly make you even for all the shit he’s pulled on you over the years?” Stella asks. The way she explains the plan I’ve been scheming up for years makes it sound insane.
“Something like that,” I mutter, swiping the bottle of vodka from the coffee table and swallowing down shot after shot in the hope it’ll eventually lessen the pain.