He finishes his glass and pours another as he examines me. Angelo is aware of everything that transpired, but he never saw the damage firsthand. I can appreciate that he did not wince when he laid eyes upon me, as it has become a natural reaction from most.

“Nice ink,” he remarks. “It suits you.”

“It serves a purpose.” I reach for a tissue and use it to wipe Abel’s blood off my shoe.

“So, you are really going through with this.” His tone is neutral, but he can’t hide the wariness in his eyes. Angelo knows everything regarding my plans for the Moreno family. While I was recovering, we spent many hours going over the details in code over the phone.

I suspect my friend is concerned for me, but he should know me better by now.

“I am,” I answer his question.

He opens the small wooden box resting on the table beside me, inspecting the rings. “It has all been decided.”

“Yes.”

“And what if it doesn’t go to plan?” His gaze drifts back to me.

I toss away the tissue and wipe my hands. “What do you mean?”

“Forever is a long time to exact your revenge. I should think you’d want an end in sight.”

I turn to study him. “Forever is only as long as it requires to give me sons.”

He plucks out Ivy’s ring and studies it. “So, you will bed her for as long as it takes to produce your heirs. Watch her bear those heirs. Care for them as only a mother can. And then either torment her for eternity or bleed the life from her body?”

His tone is uncertain, and it irritates me. “Do you doubt my intentions?”

“Your intentions, no.” He replaces the ring and shuts the box. “The outcome, perhaps.”

“What little faith you have in me,” I mutter.

“Actually, I envy you.”

The emptiness in Angelo’s voice catches me off guard, but his words make me grimace.

“Why would you envy me?”

“Everything has always been so certain to you. I’ve never met anyone who calculates every decision and executes it without a second thought or regret. I can’t imagine what it’s like to live without the weight of indecision or emotions weighing you down.”

I blink at him, frowning. He makes it sound like I’m a robot, although, I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me. That’s what most people think of me. The members in IVI call me the human computer. My talent lies in calculations, projections, and complex problems. They can all be easily solved by working it out on paper. But human psychology and the complexity of the emotional spectrum are not in my realm of understanding. There are too many variables, and there is no hard and fast answer.

However, it’s not as if I don’t have emotions. I just choose not to feel or express them.