Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 175

Chapter 175

Aaron’s POV

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I inhaled the smell of damp concrete and old rot, my boots clicking against the metal stairs as David and I descended into the bowels of the estate.

My heart was thundering, an insistent pressure against my ribs that felt like it might crack the bone.

Grandfather’s men had led us here, their faces as stone-cold and unyielding as the foundation of this house.

The basement was a cavern of shadows, lit only by a few hanging bulbs that cast long, sickly yellow shapes across the floor.

In the center of the room, bolted to a wooden chair, was a small, slumped figure.

My breath hitched, and my world stopped.

Adrian.

He was blindfolded, his small wrists bound behind the slats of the chair. He looked so fragile in that vast, empty space, like a mouse caught in a trap.

Seeing him like that-stripped of his light, silenced by the man who was supposed to be his protector-didn’t just anger me. It tore something open inside my chest that I knew would never truly close again.

“Adrian!” I screamed, my voice cracking under the strain of a father’s terror.

I saw his entire body jerk. He sat up as straight as the ropes would allow, his chin trembling as he turned his head toward the sound of my voice.

“Dad?” his voice was a tiny, broken thread. “Dad, is that you?”

“I’m here, buddy. I’m right here.”

I lunged forward, my feet eating up the distance, but a shadow stepped out from behind the pillar.

The glint of a barrel caught the light, cold and precise.

“That’s quite enough, Aaron,” grandpa bellowed.

I skidded to a halt, David catching my arm to keep me from doing something suicidal.

My grandfather stood there, looking as pristine as if he were headed to a gala, his silver hair perfectly coiffed.

He looked at us with terrifying detachment.

“Why?” I spat, the word tasting like bile. “He’s a child. He’s your great-grandson. Why have you never liked me? Why are you doing this to us? What did I ever do to deserve your hatred?”

17:24 Mon, Mar 2

Chapter 175

He let out a dry, rattling chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes.

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He began to pace around Adrian’s chair, his hand occasionally trailing over the boy’s shoulder, making Adrian flinch.

“Hate you, Aaron?” he mused, his voice dropping to a haunting tone.

“Oh, no. I’ve spent years admiring you. And that… that is the problem. You’ve always been so exceptional. Talented in ways I could only dream of. You have a fire, a natural brilliance that I recognized the moment you could walk. But I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t accept that you were everything I wanted to be.”

He stopped and looked me dead in the eye, the yellow light catching the deep lines of his face.

“I wanted to be an actor, you see. From the time I was a boy. The lights, the applause, the chance to become someone else. But my father-your great-grandfather-he wouldn’t hear of it. “Tyrones play hockey, he said. We build empires on ice, not fantasies on a screen! So I was forced into it. Skates, sticks, endless practices. I became the star he wanted, but inside? It ate at me. Every goal I scored felt like a chain tightening.”

I stared at him, stunned. All those years of coldness, of rigid expectations, the years I spent wondering why my own grandfather wanted to destroy me-it was all a projection of his own stunted dreams.

“So that’s it? You were jealous? And you decided to break us too?” I whispered. “Because you were unhappy, we have to be miserable?”

“Jealous? Perhaps. But it’s more than that, Kennedy said, his face twisting into something ugly and unremorseful.

“You were the pillar, Aaron. You were the one who broke the pattern. You encouraged the others to find their own paths, to defy the cycle I worked so hard to maintain. If I didn’t get my dream, why should you? Why should any of you be allowed to be happy when I have been a ghost in my own life for sixty years?”

There was no regret in his tone, only a chilling, solidified malice. He wasn’t a victim of his past; he had become the monster he once feared.

“You’re a monster,” David’s voice was low and dangerous.

Grandpa chuckled, a dark, menacing sound that echoed off the damp walls.

David moved without warning. He had been eyeing the guard to our left.

With a roar of frustration, we both moved. The struggle was short and brutal. David disarmed the guard with a sickening crack of bone, and I tackled the man holding the pistol.

For a moment, it felt like we had won. We stood over the fallen men, gasping for air, the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Then, we heard the click.

Grandfather hadn’t moved. He had pulled a much larger, silver-plated revolver from his inner jacket pocket. He wasn’t pointing it at us.

17:24 Mon, Mar 2 d

Chapter 175

The muzzle was pressed firmly against the side of Adrian’s head.

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