Chapter 75: My Sister Tried to Seduce My Husband During an Execution

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The gun was still aimed at my father. In that moment, the room felt frozen, all eyes on Lorenzo, standing there in his sharp black suit, arm extended with an eerie steadiness, while Father remained on his knees before him.

The luxurious carpet beneath my father’s knees probably cost more than everything I owned before marrying Lorenzo, but right then, that carpet felt like the least important thing in the room.

My father had gone pale, definitely not the shade of anger I was used to, not the irritated flush that would come whenever I disappointed him.

No, this was different...this was fear. His gaze was locked on the gun, and for the first time, Richard Sinclair looked like a man who finally understood there were consequences to how he treated others.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t relishing this moment as much as I thought I would.

Maybe I should have, after all, this was the guy who had locked me in a freaking room, controlled my meals, dictated who I could talk to, threatened me with marriage, treated me like an embarrassment, and spent years reminding me how lucky I was that he’d kept me around at all.

But seeing him kneeling there, with Lorenzo’s gun aimed at his damn head ready to blow it clean off, didn’t fill me with triumph.

It just made me feel sick.

I opened my mouth. "Lorenzo—"

But the name got stuck in my throat. I had no clue what I was about to say.

’Please don’t shoot, It’s fine. He didn’t mean it. My father is just angry and I could handle it; I had spent my entire life handling it.’

Those words had been beaten into me for so long that sometimes, I wasn’t even sure where my thoughts ended and the conditioning began.

Then I glanced over at Blair. I froze. She was standing next to Lydia, tears streaming down her face.

At least, there were tears on her cheeks.

Her expression twisted as if she were terrified, but when our eyes met, something shifted. It happened so quickly that I almost thought I imagined it.

But I knew fucking well I didn’t...

Her lips twitched, just the slightest hint of a smile, quickly replaced by a calculating look that vanished as soon as she saw me watching.

There she was...my wonderful, actress stepsister. Even with a gun pointed at our father, she remained calculating.

Almost admirable, really.

I wanna be like her when I grow up.

Suddenly, she broke away from Lydia.

"Please!" She rushed toward Lorenzo. I barely grasped what she was doing before she dropped to her knees in front of him. "Please don’t kill him!"

Her voice cracked beautifully. Too beautifully as she clutched at the front of Lorenzo’s trousers with trembling fingers, tears spilling down her cheeks as she looked up at him.

"He’s our father," she sobbed. "Please, he’s made mistakes, but he’s still my father! Please, you have to spare him!"

I stared at her, surprised.

This has to be a way of her trying to get Lorenzo’s attention.

She was good at this...no doubt about it. If acting was a talent passed down in our family, Blair would’ve been winning awards by now.

There was even a hint of sweetness in the air, a controlled release of sad omega pheromones meant to evoke sympathy and soften an alpha’s aggression.

Another wave of exhaustion washed over me. Of course, she was trying that.

Not my own sister trying to make a move on my husband while he was trying to kill our dad.

A funny and strange sentence, right? I know...

But Lorenzo didn’t even glance at her. His expression remained cold, focused entirely on Richard and Blair’s face faltered.

"Please," she whispered again.

Still nothing. Not even a look, and that made me almost smile. She got closer, putting in more effort.

Finally, Lorenzo moved his gaze...not to Blair, but to me.

Our eyes locked. I couldn’t read his expression, then he shifted his attention back to Richard.

"Your father," he said quietly to Blair, almost as if weighing the words, "has spent years hurting my husband."

Richard swallowed hard.

Lorenzo’s tone stayed calm, and that was what scared me the most. "I knew."

The room seemed to constrict around those two words. I stared at him.

"You k...knew?" Richard croaked.

Lorenzo didn’t answer him, eyes still on me.

"I knew what happened in this house," he said. "I knew how Alex were treated."

My stomach twisted. "You knew?"

"I did."

I wasn’t sure whether to feel angry or relieved; maybe both. "Then why didn’t you—"

"Because it wasn’t my place." His voice was quiet, controlled. "I believed you had to decide when to leave them behind. I wouldn’t interfere with your family just because I disliked what I saw."

My eyes burned. "But that changed."

Lorenzo glanced at Richard. "It changed when he became mine."

The words sent a strange chill through me. Not because I didn’t get it, but because I did, his voice lowered. "He is my Omega. He is the person I love."

My heart squeezed painfully.

"And I won’t stand by while anyone lays a hand on him, I’ll kill them all." Lorenzo went on as Richard’s breathing grew uneven. "...Family included."

The room fell silent again. This wasn’t just a declaration; it was a boundary, a threat, a promise...all rolled into one.

Anyone who dared to hurt me would lose Lorenzo’s protection, even if that person shared his or my blood.

I should have felt safe. Instead, dread filled me, wondering just how far that protection might stretch.

I stepped forward. "Hey... Dracula."

His focus snapped back to me.

"It’s okay." My voice trembled, and I hated it. "Please don’t."

His expression didn’t change and I continued.

"I don’t want you to kill him."

Richard turned his head slightly toward me. I could feel his gaze, but I didn’t look.

"He’s still my father. Even if he’s a complete and utter ass."

Those words felt ridiculous, given everything.

Still my father? Some part of me must have missed the memo that we were supposed to stop caring about people who had hurt us for years.

But just because he treated me like shit all my life, did he really deserve death for that?

Lorenzo studied me for a long moment.

Then, his arm lowered, and the gun pointed toward the floor. My lungs finally remembered how to breathe.

Richard sagged visibly.

"Oh, thank G–God." His voice trembled. "Thank you, sir. T...thank you!"

Lorenzo looked at him, a small smile forming...but it was not a kind one. "Which hand did you use?"

Richard blinked. "What?"

"To hit my husband." My stomach dropped while Lorenzo’s smile didn’t fade. "Which hand?"

Father looked confused, then scared. "I—I don’t understand."

"Yes, you do, Mr. Sinclair." Lorenzo’s voice was almost polite. "Your right or your left?"

Richard’s eyes darted to me and then down to his hands. "Right."

Lorenzo nodded. "Raise it."

My heart stopped. "Dracula."

He didn’t look at me and Father hesitated.

"P...please," he whimpered.

"I said raise it."

Slowly, Richard lifted his right hand, the movement shaky. For a split second, I thought maybe Lorenzo would change his mind. He didn’t.

The gun came up in one smooth, motion, aiming right at the center of Richard’s open palm.

The shot exploded through the room with a deafening crack that seemed to tear apart the very air.

The bullet ripped straight through the flesh of his hand, creating a gaping wound where bone fragments and shredded tissue scattered across the expensive carpet, showering it in a gruesome mist of blood.