TRIGGER WARNING: VIOLENCE
Xavier watched Zeke walk away, his jaw tightening. There was no point denying it, he was jealous.
Claire might be close to him now, but Zeke was still her father. Still Cassidy’s ex-husband. And that alone was enough to sting.
He thought back to when Zeke had said, "Thank you." Polite. Calm. But underneath it, something possessive. Like Xavier was just a stand in. Like Cassidy and Claire were still his.
It made Xavier’s blood simmer.
Who did he think he was?
Cassidy wasn’t his wife anymore. And Claire was closer to him now. That should’ve been enough.
He was afraid Zeke might take Cassidy and Claire away from him.
Then suddenly, Xavier froze. Realization sank in. A quiet, bitter laugh escaped his lips because the truth was, Cassidy and Claire were never really his to begin with.
"Hey, Xav... you okay over there?"
He blinked and looked up. "What? Yeah, sorry." His voice sounded a little distant, like he’d just returned from somewhere far in his head.
Cassidy, still seated beside Claire’s bed, watched him closely. Her brows drew together. "You spaced out. You don’t look great. Are you sure you’re okay?"
Xavier let out a small breath, his smile a little forced. "I’m fine. Really. Just had a thought that came out of nowhere. Nothing serious."
But his eyes said otherwise and Cassidy noticed.
Cassidy looked at him gently. "How about you go get some rest? Go home for a while. You can come back later. I’ll call you the moment Claire wakes up, I promise."
Xavier nodded slowly. "Yeah... you’re probably right," he said quietly. "I should rest. Maybe clearing my head will help me think straight again."
Once it was just Clara and Cassidy in the room, Clara glanced at her with a small, knowing smile.
"Xavier is a good man," she said softly. "But after meeting Claire’s father, I have to admit he’s not so bad either." Her tone was teasing, warm, almost motherly.
Cassidy immediately froze, her expression shifting. "Oh God. No, Clara..." She shook her head quickly. "Zeke and I are divorced. That Chapter is over. And Xavier..."
Her voice faltered, and for a moment, Cassidy didn’t know what else to say because honestly, she wasn’t sure.
Clara smiled gently, her voice calm and full of affection. "It’s okay if you don’t choose either of them, you know. You’re beautiful, independent, successful. I’m sure you’ll find someone who’s truly right for you, in your own time."
Cassidy let out a quiet sigh, offering no reply.
She didn’t entertain Clara’s words because truthfully, she wasn’t thinking about any of that.
The idea of love felt distant. Unreal.
The truth was, Cassidy didn’t know how to love a man. Her experiences with relationships could be counted on one hand, most of them just childish crushes, not real love.
So when people spoke about falling in love, finding "the one," moving on... She couldn’t help but wonder if she even knew how.
Zeke’s car stopped in front of his empty warehouse. It was a private place, somewhere he used to hide the darker side of himself.
Blake and Marcus were already standing by the door, waiting for him.
Blake spoke first. "We put him in the basement, boss."
Zeke nodded and walked inside without a word, heading straight to the stairs that led down.
The basement was quiet and cold. In the middle of the room, a man was hanging, his head covered with a black cloth, arms stretched and chained on both sides. He was only wearing his underwear.
As soon as he heard footsteps, the man started yelling.
"Please! Let me go! I already told you everything! Please, I’m begging you!"
Zeke didn’t say anything.
He walked over to the nearby table, where tools were neatly arranged in rows. He picked up a pair of black gloves and slowly put them on. Then his eyes moved across the tools. Finally, he reached for a whip.
Zeke stepped closer, the whip hanging loosely from his hand. The man struggled in his restraints, his breath quick and panicked.
"I told you everything!" he cried. "Please, I’m telling the truth!"
Zeke stood silently for a moment, letting the fear settle in the air. Then he spoke, calm but cold.
Without warning, the first strike landed, sharp and loud, echoing off the concrete walls.
Zeke didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t curse.
He simply delivered each blow with steady, practiced rhythm as if this wasn’t new to him. As if this was routine.
The man cried out, body twisting against the chains.
"This is for Claire," Zeke muttered under his breath.
Another blow. Harder.
"For making her bleed."
"And for hurting her."
The man sobbed now, his voice hoarse, but Zeke’s expression stayed cold, almost detached. Blood ran down the man’s side, but Zeke didn’t stop.
Zeke gritted his teeth, his eyes fixed on the man hanging before him. He raised the whip again, his voice low and rough.
"This one’s for Cassidy."
The whip lashed across the man’s back, sharp and merciless.
"For making her cry."
"And for making her sad."
The last blow landed deep. The man screamed, his body trembling from the pain, blood dripping freely now.
But Zeke didn’t move. He just stood there, breathing hard, his knuckles white around the handle.
In that moment, it wasn’t just punishment. It was personal.
For Claire. For Cassidy. For all the pain they had to carry because of people .
After a final, heavy breath, Zeke stepped back.
The man hung there, weak and barely conscious, his body trembling. Zeke dropped the whip onto the table and turned to Blake, his voice calm but sharp.
"Clean him up," he ordered. "Take care of him. I want him fully healed. No bruises, no marks. Nothing that ties him to this."
Blake gave a small nod. "Understood."
Zeke’s gaze stayed cold. "Once he’s recovered and looks untouched, hand him over to the police."
He paused for a beat before adding, "No questions. No explanations. Just drop him off and walk away."
Then he turned and walked up the stairs, leaving only silence and the sound of labored breathing behind him.