REVENGE, DIAPER and SNACKS - Chapter 44: Chapter 44
You are reading REVENGE, DIAPER and SNACKS, Chapter 44: Chapter 44. Read more chapters of REVENGE, DIAPER and SNACKS.
I laughed under my breath, shaking my head. If I hadn't entered Catherine bosy… if my soul hadn’t clawed its way into this super plus-sized body of a mother, I don’t know if I would’ve had the strength to enter hell with vengeance still burning inside me.
But here I was. Alive. Again. And this time, I didn’t need guns or blades. I had hips, curves, eyeliner, and a grocery bill long enough to choke a politician. I had three beautiful chaos machines I called my children.
And now? I had Alec eating from the palm of my perfectly manicured hand.
Oh, he didn’t know it yet. He thought he was in control. Thought he could play the savior while keeping his hands clean.
Please.
He’ll beg for my attention before this is over. He’ll crawl for my forgiveness.
I strutted toward the kitchen, passing Aliya who was still mid-juicebox conquest, and pulled open the cabinet to grab a wine glass. Poured myself the cheap red stuff that burned like battery acid but felt like power. I took a sip and let the memories creep in again.
That smirk of his when he leaned on the car door. That fake concern. That perfectly pressed shirt and cologne that reeked of manipulation. He thought Catherine was just some struggling single mom. A damsel.
Oh, sweetie. I’m the dragon, not the damsel.
And I may be in leggings and a "Messy Bun, Coffee Run, Done" t-shirt now, but I’m still the man who once ordered ten men dead over a faulty shipment of diamonds — and then had wine with their widows the next day.
I glanced at the reflection of myself in the kitchen window. The face was different, fuller, softer, lined with years of pain and child-rearing. But the eyes?
The eyes still belonged to Leon.
“Game on, little brother,” I whispered, raising the glass in a silent toast. “You should’ve made sure I stayed dead.”
I stood in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed, staring at the moonlight streaming through the blinds. My apartment smells like laundry detergent, rotten apples and old rice.
And victory.
Alec thought he could play savior.
He thought my SUV “accident” was a coincidence.
But I saw the gleam in his eyes today—like he’d just discovered a shiny puzzle piece and didn’t know whether to kiss it or crush it.
Let him wonder.
Let him feel important.
Because while he holds the steering wheel, I’ve got my hand on the brake lines. And baby, I designed this road.
Let me remind you, Alec:
I am Leon Darrow. Dead to the world. Reborn in stretch marks, cupcake crumbs, and vengeance.
I once ordered the death of three cartel leaders while sipping espresso in my robe.
Now I sort laundry in the morning and plot your demise by dinner.
Soon, very soon, you’ll beg for mercy. And I’ll show you how soft mercy can feel—right before I take it away.
Maya screamed from the living room. “Mama! Jaya’s peeing on the couch again!”
I rolled my eyes, downed the wine in one go, and marched back into the fray.
Assassin by soul. Mother by circumstance.
Let’s see who makes it out alive.
That evening, I couldn't sleep. I was thinking. About what went wrong…
It was storming the night I saved Alec's life ten years ago.
Not the soft, movie kind of storm. No poetic drizzle. It was the kind that split trees, that made concrete look like wet tissue paper.
The kind of storm you could hide gunfire in.
We were in Prague. Neutral ground. I had arranged the meeting myself—Leon Darrow, the name people whispered across borders. The man who could disappear whole supply chains if you looked at him wrong. And Alec? He was my baby brother. New to the game. Still smelled like prep school and luxury soap.
He wasn’t ready. Not for the Russians.
We were supposed to broker a deal. Simple arms-for-data trade. But the moment we stepped into the chandelier-lit ballroom, I knew we were being set up. The lighting was too clean. The guards stood too tall. And my instincts? They screamed betrayal.
And they were right.
Alec never saw it coming. One moment he was adjusting his cufflinks, the next, a bullet shattered the wine glass near his head. Chaos erupted. I flipped the table. Covered him. My men returned fire while I dragged Alec by the collar out the back exit.
We lost two men that night. One of them had been with me since I was seventeen.
Alec never said thank you.
In fact, months later, he told our father it was my arrogance that brought the ambush.
That it was my ego that endangered the family.
Father believed him. Of course he did. Alec was clean. Pretty. Easier to control. I was the sword you pulled out for blood, not the one you handed to diplomats.
I was sent to South America after that. Banished, really. To clean up some cartel mess with half the resources I needed.
Meanwhile, Alec rose. Slowly. Quietly. Smiling at cameras. Shaking hands. Becoming the face of our operations in Europe.
That I’d rather run with the wolves than sit at polished tables. But betrayal has a sound.
It sounds like your brother laughing over your coffin.
I found out later Alec had known about the setup in Prague. Had even told the Russians to "scare me."
I told myself I didn’t care. I still forgave him because that was what brothers do. They forget and forgive and we start anew. I was indeed stupid. And I hated every moment of it.
He just hadn’t counted on me walking out alive.
And when he finally plunged that venom into my neck decade later—using my own loyal pet spider to do it?
That was his coronation.
He became the king.
And I? I became a ghost.
Until now.
But here I was. Alive. Again. And this time, I didn’t need guns or blades. I had hips, curves, eyeliner, and a grocery bill long enough to choke a politician. I had three beautiful chaos machines I called my children.
And now? I had Alec eating from the palm of my perfectly manicured hand.
Oh, he didn’t know it yet. He thought he was in control. Thought he could play the savior while keeping his hands clean.
Please.
He’ll beg for my attention before this is over. He’ll crawl for my forgiveness.
I strutted toward the kitchen, passing Aliya who was still mid-juicebox conquest, and pulled open the cabinet to grab a wine glass. Poured myself the cheap red stuff that burned like battery acid but felt like power. I took a sip and let the memories creep in again.
That smirk of his when he leaned on the car door. That fake concern. That perfectly pressed shirt and cologne that reeked of manipulation. He thought Catherine was just some struggling single mom. A damsel.
Oh, sweetie. I’m the dragon, not the damsel.
And I may be in leggings and a "Messy Bun, Coffee Run, Done" t-shirt now, but I’m still the man who once ordered ten men dead over a faulty shipment of diamonds — and then had wine with their widows the next day.
I glanced at the reflection of myself in the kitchen window. The face was different, fuller, softer, lined with years of pain and child-rearing. But the eyes?
The eyes still belonged to Leon.
“Game on, little brother,” I whispered, raising the glass in a silent toast. “You should’ve made sure I stayed dead.”
I stood in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed, staring at the moonlight streaming through the blinds. My apartment smells like laundry detergent, rotten apples and old rice.
And victory.
Alec thought he could play savior.
He thought my SUV “accident” was a coincidence.
But I saw the gleam in his eyes today—like he’d just discovered a shiny puzzle piece and didn’t know whether to kiss it or crush it.
Let him wonder.
Let him feel important.
Because while he holds the steering wheel, I’ve got my hand on the brake lines. And baby, I designed this road.
Let me remind you, Alec:
I am Leon Darrow. Dead to the world. Reborn in stretch marks, cupcake crumbs, and vengeance.
I once ordered the death of three cartel leaders while sipping espresso in my robe.
Now I sort laundry in the morning and plot your demise by dinner.
Soon, very soon, you’ll beg for mercy. And I’ll show you how soft mercy can feel—right before I take it away.
Maya screamed from the living room. “Mama! Jaya’s peeing on the couch again!”
I rolled my eyes, downed the wine in one go, and marched back into the fray.
Assassin by soul. Mother by circumstance.
Let’s see who makes it out alive.
That evening, I couldn't sleep. I was thinking. About what went wrong…
It was storming the night I saved Alec's life ten years ago.
Not the soft, movie kind of storm. No poetic drizzle. It was the kind that split trees, that made concrete look like wet tissue paper.
The kind of storm you could hide gunfire in.
We were in Prague. Neutral ground. I had arranged the meeting myself—Leon Darrow, the name people whispered across borders. The man who could disappear whole supply chains if you looked at him wrong. And Alec? He was my baby brother. New to the game. Still smelled like prep school and luxury soap.
He wasn’t ready. Not for the Russians.
We were supposed to broker a deal. Simple arms-for-data trade. But the moment we stepped into the chandelier-lit ballroom, I knew we were being set up. The lighting was too clean. The guards stood too tall. And my instincts? They screamed betrayal.
And they were right.
Alec never saw it coming. One moment he was adjusting his cufflinks, the next, a bullet shattered the wine glass near his head. Chaos erupted. I flipped the table. Covered him. My men returned fire while I dragged Alec by the collar out the back exit.
We lost two men that night. One of them had been with me since I was seventeen.
Alec never said thank you.
In fact, months later, he told our father it was my arrogance that brought the ambush.
That it was my ego that endangered the family.
Father believed him. Of course he did. Alec was clean. Pretty. Easier to control. I was the sword you pulled out for blood, not the one you handed to diplomats.
I was sent to South America after that. Banished, really. To clean up some cartel mess with half the resources I needed.
Meanwhile, Alec rose. Slowly. Quietly. Smiling at cameras. Shaking hands. Becoming the face of our operations in Europe.
That I’d rather run with the wolves than sit at polished tables. But betrayal has a sound.
It sounds like your brother laughing over your coffin.
I found out later Alec had known about the setup in Prague. Had even told the Russians to "scare me."
I told myself I didn’t care. I still forgave him because that was what brothers do. They forget and forgive and we start anew. I was indeed stupid. And I hated every moment of it.
He just hadn’t counted on me walking out alive.
And when he finally plunged that venom into my neck decade later—using my own loyal pet spider to do it?
That was his coronation.
He became the king.
And I? I became a ghost.
Until now.
End of REVENGE, DIAPER and SNACKS Chapter 44. Continue reading Chapter 45 or return to REVENGE, DIAPER and SNACKS book page.