“He’s out for the night, Boss,” he said.

The same man that handled Angelina had just taken care of Spencer. By the sounds of the screams that came from within the room, it was probably in the same way. She would not ask, nor did she want to know what he had done to the older man. Whatever it was, he had it coming, and then some. The reign of terror was over. Spencer had signed his confession, and he would never recover from what he did to his daughter. One more disclosure was needed, but that wouldn’t come till Gypsy was present to hear what he had to say about her husband. Nicolette knew, but it had to come from the man himself.

“Good. Pick up the mother and bring her here. She’s bonded out in an hour, and I don’t want her on the streets,” Nicolette said. She shook her head, thinking of the damage that drunk bitch could do. She was already arrested on a flight. If left alone, someone would kill that mouthy blond bitch. She needed her Aunt to hear the damage caused by her before she has the privilege of dying. Not planned, but she was the kind of woman who could piss off a Saint.

“Gotcha Boss. I’ll snatch her up and bring her here. Pretty soon, this place will be packed with visitors,” he laughed.

Forty-five minutes later, standing in front of the police station, a limo waited for Amelia Kennedy. She would find herself in for the fight of her life once the doors closed. She would never be the same once the car stopped.

“Mrs. Kennedy, I have your car waiting,” said the driver.

“It’s about fucking time. I need a god damn drink,” Amelia replied.

Little did the blond know; all the alcohol replaced with colored water. For this, Nicolette wanted her completely sober. She could get drunk after she was fully enlightened on what had happened to her daughter.

Secure in the car, Amelia poured herself a drink, spitting it out almost immediately. That’s when the doors locked, and the vehicle put into motion. The driver had enough sense to close the window between the front and back before locking the doors. A glass hitting the window and shattering proved that to be wise on the part of the male. The screaming on the other side of the window let him know that Amelia Kennedy didn’t like not getting her way.

“You fucking son of a bitch. Let me the fuck out of here. I know Spencer paid you to do this shit. Fucking cock sucker,” Amelia screamed.

During the thirty-minute drive to the warehouse, Amelia screamed, ripping the leather off the seats of the limousine. She was no better than a spoiled child. The driver made sure to let Nicolette know that a hellcat was on the way, and she wasn’t enjoying the ride.

“Boss, this one is going to be a problem. She might need to be sedated,” he said.

Ten-minutes later, Amelia came face to face with someone she never knew existed. Her Neice. Sister Mary Grace didn’t die in vain. She died saving the life of her unborn child—something that Amelia never knew but was about to find out. How she took this would define what happened to her in the next twenty-four hours.

As the limo pulled into the bay, the driver pushed the lock on the door to the upward position. Amelia thrust forward, the door opening with a jolt. Her eyes would need a moment or two, adjusting to the dim light in the old warehouse.

“Where the fuck am I,” she screamed. In the rafters, birds scattered, flying out the broken windows at the top of the building. She had unsettled the place within the first minute of being inside. This woman was a mess, but sometimes even a mess can be brought to her knees.

“Can you shut up already,” Nicolette said. She walked toward the raving maniac. Her heels clicked lightly on the cement flooring. Today was the first time Nicolette had seen her mother’s sister, and from what she was told, they were almost identical-looking as children. “Bring her in the room,” Nicolette said, her eyes on the driver and not on Amelia.

“I demand to know what’s going on here,” Amelia said.

“Move your ass,” said the driver, his hand wrapped around her upper arm, forcing her to the room where the rest had once sat, pushing her down in a seat.

“What the hell is going on here?” she demanded.

“Aunt Amelia, please, I already have a splitting headache. Can you please shut your fucking mouth before I slit your god damn throat,” Nicolette warned. She had no respect for this woman. Blood or no blood, she allowed her daughter to be molested so she could save her marriage.

With her hands now on the table, Amelia stood, looking at the young brunette, “You are not my niece. I know all the Kennedy family, and you’re not one of them. Who the fuck do you think you are!”

Nicolette laughed, leaning back against the wall in the shadows, “I am not a Kennedy, thank god. Do you remember Sister Mary Grace?” she asked.

“My sister?” Amelia’s voice softened.

“She was my mother. I was born the night she died on the floor of the Vatican. Your family sent her away to live there. Alone at sixteen, she was raped by a Priest. Your family sent a child away to be raped just like you sent your daughter to her room night after night when she told you she was scared,” she said. Walking forward, Nicolette slammed her hand down in the table, looking her Aunt in the eyes as she slammed her fist down on the wooden table, “You sent Mary back to her room and into the arms of a predator. You did this. You fucking did this to your daughter just like they did this to my mother.”

Amelia’s mouth dropped open the moment she realized this was her sister’s daughter. A child they never knew existed. “I didn’t do that. I didn’t know about Mary,” she cried. Amelia fell back into the chair, holding her chest, the tears rushing down her face, Amelia knew for the first time that she was the one to blame for her daughter pain, just like her family was to blame for her sister’s demise.

With a sadistic grin on her face, Nicolette leaned in, only inches away from her Aunt, “You took everything away from Mary, and now, I’m taking it all away from you. Call me karma because you’ve just met a diabolical bitch!”

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