I wiped away my tears and turned to look at him.
"Where did all this blood come from, Mark! I know you're not hurt because the last time I saw you like this, you weren't.
There wasn't a cut on your body, so where did all this blood come from, Mark? Are you a Mafia member? When did this happen? Are you a victim of extortion?"
He laughed instead of responding, and Serena joined in. They both continued to laugh, assuming that I would abandon my inquiries.
They came to a halt when they noticed my stern gaze.
Serena answered, "It's fake blood," to which I scoffed.
"Is this fake blood? What are you using it to do? That metallic scent doesn't smell fake to me! Therefore I'm guessing it is real blood. What is going on, and why does it appear that she knows more than I do?"
"Okay, this is my cue to depart. When the argument is over, give me a call. I'm a sucker for happy endings," While reaching for the doorknob, Serena announced.
"No, you're not going anywhere," I told her as she raised her brows.
"Who says so? You? Funny." As she leaned against the wall, her gaze met Mark's angry face, his eyes sending her daggers.
See? My spouse was outraged just by the sound of her voice. So, why were they alone at home, and why was she comfortable with the blood?
"Fine. My cousins and I have been hunting off late." Is this all he got to tell me? He swiftly added something else, "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd be concerned and opposed, especially since the operation wound is already healing beautifully, and you wouldn't want me to open it up again."
'Right! His surgery. Why do I always even forget about that?'
"We've been having a strength competition lately, and failing to participate would show how weak I am," I heard him conclude.
"That's a load of bullshit. Is that why you purchased a home near the woods?"
"Can you tell me what you're talking about?"
"What the hell!"
Mark shouted the first sentence, while Serena shouted the second, both at once.
Serena's eyes changed color at that precise moment. They grew darker and creepier. Her voice grew louder and harsher as she grew closer to me.
It was almost as if she was a completely different person.
That was quite terrifying.
How could she even do that? Where did she learn to do that?
"I had you followed and..." I took the pictures out of my bag and handed them to him, but before I could walk away, he grabbed my arm and spoke while clenching his teeth.
"Don't make the same mistake twice. Do you understand what I'm saying? Now call him to stop following me, call him off!"
As a tear slipped from my eyes, I nodded in agreement.
Was Mark telling it like it was? If that was the case, why did he become upset when he discovered he got followed?
"How did she end up here when I got home?" As I gently returned my gaze to him, my gaze shifted to Serena.
He just informed, "She came to see you."
"Are you both having an affair behind my back?" I hoped they'd think I was insane as I whispered.
I needed an explanation for everything that was going on at this moment.
Things were not right.
How come they were both acting like close friends all of a sudden?
The blood.
"No, Sweet pea, I will never do such a thing to you. Even if I did, I wouldn't do it with Serena," As my cousin and I raised our eyes and stared at him, he assured us.
Why did he act as if my cousin wasn't attractive? She was one of the most stunning and fashionable women I'd ever seen.
"Do you know why my fiancé called off the wedding?" Serena broke the silence by patting my shoulder and then going on to say,
"I didn't have time for him. Work comes first for me; it is my duty that keeps me alive, and this affected our relationship. In addition, I have excellent taste."
Mark cracked a chuckle at that.
That night, I tossed and turned in bed once more, like every night since he got back.
Not because I suspected my husband of cheating, but because the possibility of him going hunting persisted in the back of my mind.
I knew he liked forests, flora, and late-night gatherings with his family and friends since childhood, but he had never hurt an animal or allowed anyone else to do so, including his brothers.
However, if he were lying, it would confirm my suspicions that he was a member of a Mafia organization.
I would rather believe he went hunting.
****
The day was going to be a wonderful morning. There would be no doubts and no tension.
At least, that was what I believed.
As I arrived at my office, I gave everyone a friendly greeting.
I was the company's senior director, so I had my office, which was also quite large. Work was never an issue for me.
My husband owned the world's largest fast-food empire and other businesses.
So we got all the respect we could get.
Bismarck called me from behind, "Hello, hey, hey." No one needed to keep up with the news when he was around. He was up to date and didn't hesitate to keep us all informed.
"Last Friday, the man that came into your office..."
"Wait, your queer ass also wants him?" As I hung up my coat and came near my chair, I cut him off.
His footsteps were steady as they followed mine.
"Hey, just because I like males too doesn't mean I like them all!" As I chuckled, he exclaimed.
Anyone who knew him would attest to the fact that he liked everyone. And definitely, the investigator's strong jawline did not miss his eyes.
"Okay, maybe a little, but even if I desired him, I'd never be able to have him. The man died, and that too, he died horribly," I was jolted out of my seat by his remarks.
My forehead began to break out in cold sweats, and the air sent shivers down my spine. My heart pounded against my chest with such force that I began to gasp.
As I trembled like a leaf, the room began to whirl around me.
"You're not making a joke!" I yelled at him, expecting him to laugh and claim he was joking, but Bismarck continued to recount how he got discovered.
That wasn't possible. After I had told Mark he was being watched- the investigator couldn't have died a few days later.
When he advised me to call him off, I saw the glare in both his and Serena's eyes.
That look in their eyes… it couldn't possibly be.
Was Mark to blame for his death?