Chapter 34

Evangelina

I settle on my sofa, the warm weight of a glass of red wine in my hand as I try to unwind after dropping Nate off with his father. The apartment is quiet, and I let out a long breath, thinking about all the questions swirling in my head. Questions I need him to answer. The priest.

It’s time for the truth. Time for him to finally confess.

I’m about to take another sip when there’s a knock at the door, the sound sharp in the stillness. My heart picks up its pace. I know who it is. Benedict. My mind races with everything I need to say, everything I’ve been holding in since our last encounter.

But when I open the door, it’s not Benedict standing there.

It’s Christopher.

A cold wave of dread washes over me and I try to slam the door in his face. He stops the door from closing with his foot, and he pushes his way inside.

“Christopher, what are you doing here?” My voice is steadier than I feel, but barely.

Without a word, he barges past me, not even giving me the courtesy of stepping aside. He’s always been like this, so used to taking up space, demanding control. How could I have ever married this man?

“Come in,” I mutter under my breath, sarcasm coating every word. I close the door and turn to face him, my stomach knotting tighter with each second.

He strides into the middle of my apartment, his eyes scanning the space, but then he stops, turning sharply to face me. His gaze pins me in place, his expression cold, calculating. "Where’s the father ?" His voice drips with accusation, and for a moment, I falter.

"What?" My pulse quickens, and my face must give something away because his lips curl into a smirk.

"You've always been a shit liar, Eva," Christopher says, his arms crossing over his chest in that infuriatingly confident way of his. He leans against the back of my couch like he owns the place, like he still owns me.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my composure. He knows something—he always does. Christopher has a way of sniffing out secrets, manipulating them to his advantage. But I can’t give him more than he already has.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, keeping my voice even, though my nerves are jangling beneath the surface.

He laughs, a dark, humorless sound that fills the room. “You think I don’t see it? I’ve got eyes everywhere, sweetheart. You and that priest—” he sneers the word, like it’s filthy, “—you’re playing a dangerous game.”

My blood runs cold, and I take a small step back, putting some distance between us. "Christopher, leave."

He tilts his head, studying me like he’s assessing just how far he can push. "You really think you can keep him safe? Keep Nate safe?" His eyes flicker with something darker, something that sends a shiver down my spine. “You forget who you’re dealing with.”

My heart pounds in my chest. Nate. My whole world. I keep my face blank, but my hands are shaking behind my back. "Get out, Christopher."

He pushes off the couch, taking a slow step toward me, towering over me with that sick, controlling grin. "You think I’m going anywhere? I’m not done yet. And neither are you, Eva."

For a moment, we just stare at each other, the tension thick enough to suffocate. I want to scream, to throw him out of my life once and for all, but I know better than to provoke him. Not when he holds all the power. Not when Nate is involved.

I take a breath, steadying myself. “If you want something, spit it out.”

Christopher’s grin fades into something colder, more dangerous. "This priest of yours—he’s not who you think he is. And I’m going to make sure you find that out the hard way."

He turns to leave, but before he reaches the door, he stops, casting a chilling smile over his shoulder. “It’s funny how you think I’m leaving here without you.”

My heart skips a beat. “What?” I step back, my body instinctively trying to create space between us, but it’s not enough.

Suddenly, he lunges forward, his fist flying toward my face. I barely have time to register the movement before pain explodes in my vision, stars bursting behind my eyes as I stumble backward. The world spins, and I hit the ground hard, my cheek burning from the impact.

"You fucking bitch," Christopher growls, towering over me like a predator ready to strike again. “You think fucking a priest will keep you safe? You have no idea.” His voice is venomous, each word dripping with rage.

I blink through the haze of pain, disoriented, struggling to catch my breath. My whole body feels numb, but fear is quick to take over. I raise my hands to shield myself as best I can, curling in on myself, but it’s no use. Christopher is relentless. His hand shoots down, gripping my bicep with crushing force, and he hauls me halfway off the ground, my head spinning with the movement.

“He’s been playing you this whole time, Eva.” His face is inches from mine, his breath hot and sour as he spits the words out. “He’s the fucking F.B.I.”

I freeze, my mind racing to process what he’s saying. F.B.I.? That doesn’t make any sense. Benedict— Father Benedict —has been... what? Working against me?

Everything feels like it’s crashing down at once, the weight of Christopher’s words suffocating me. I can’t think straight. Can’t breathe. My muscles scream in pain as he tightens his grip, jerking me up further until I’m nearly dangling in his grasp.

“The priest has been working you like a puppet,” Christopher hisses, shaking me roughly. “You really thought you could trust him? You’re more pathetic than I thought.”

The room blurs as panic takes over. My mind spins, but I can’t seem to grasp onto any solid thought. All I can focus on is the unbearable pressure of Christopher’s fingers digging into my arm, the bile rising in my throat, and the terror that’s seeping into every inch of my body.

“No,” I choke out, but it’s barely a whisper, the sound swallowed by the suffocating fear clamping down on my chest.

Christopher laughs, the sound low and mocking. “You’re in deep, Eva. And now, there’s no getting out. Not for you, not for your little priest boyfriend. And definitely not for Nate.”

The mention of my son jolts something awake inside me. Nate. I can’t let this happen. I can’t let Christopher hurt him. I try to kick out, my foot connecting weakly with his shin, but it only earns me another slap, the force of it making my ears ring.

Tears blur my vision, but I grit my teeth, refusing to break. Not in front of him. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’ll destroy you,” Christopher hisses, his voice low and full of promise. “And when I’m done, I’ll make sure you never see Nate again. You’ll be nothing.”

I try to wriggle free, the pain in my arm excruciating, but it’s no use. Christopher’s grip is unyielding, and I feel my strength slipping away with every second. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, the terror of what he’s saying mixing with the confusion about Benedict.

FBI? My mind keeps circling back to that, trying to piece together how everything has spiraled so far out of control.