11.

Claire's Pov

As we stood outside the ER door, waiting anxiously for any news about Daniel, the tension between Chelsea and me was palpable. The silence between us was thick with unspoken words, each of us lost in our own thoughts and worries.

Suddenly, Chelsea's voice shattered the silence, cutting through the air like a knife. "You're a bitch, Claire," she spat, her words laced with anger and frustration.

I sighed, expecting that reaction from her. Chelsea had always been quick to anger, especially when she felt like she was being kept in the dark. And right now, with Daniel's life hanging in the balance, her emotions were running high.

Chelsea continued to express her frustration, her words pouring out in a torrent of pent-up emotion. She accused Marquez and me of keeping too many secrets from her, of hiding the truth about our family's past and the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

And then she dropped a bombshell that left me reeling. "Marquez wished death upon Daniel," she said, her voice trembling with anger and disbelief.

I froze at her words, my mind racing as I tried to process what she had just said. It was true that Marquez had never been fond of Daniel, but to wish death upon him? It seemed unthinkable.

But Chelsea was adamant, her eyes blazing with righteous fury. "Marquez isn't the loving father that we grew up with," she insisted, her voice filled with conviction.

I shook my head, trying to wrap my head around her accusations. "He was never our father," I countered, my voice strained with emotion.

Chelsea looked at me skeptically, her gaze piercing. "Prove it," she challenged, her tone defiant.I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say. "I will," I replied quietly, my resolve firm.

Chelsea waved me off dismissively, her skepticism apparent. "Exactly," she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're just lying out of your butt."

Before I could respond, we were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a surgeon stepping out of the room, his clothes stained with blood. My heart skipped a beat as I braced myself for the news that was about to come.

Eugene's Pov

Marquez looked at me with disbelief, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. He shook his head, unable to comprehend how I had survived the crash that had supposedly taken my life.

"I don't understand," he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "How did you survive? I saw the wreckage myself."

I couldn't help but chuckle darkly at his reaction, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "My family knew what you would've done to get rid of me," I explained, my voice laced with bitterness. "So they helped me fake my death."

Marquez's eyes widened in astonishment as my words sank in. It was clear that he hadn't anticipated this revelation, and for a moment, he was at a loss for words.

Marquez's words cut through the tension like a knife, his bitterness palpable as he spat out the accusation. "Oh, you Russians," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Always meddling in other people's affairs."

I couldn't help but feel a surge of anger at his words, the resentment I had harbored for so long bubbling to the surface. "You took the woman I loved away from me," he continued, his voice thick with emotion. "Thelma was my wife first."

I clenched my jaw, struggling to maintain my composure in the face of Marquez's accusations. "Thelma was never yours to begin with," I shot back, my voice cold and unyielding. "She chose to marry you out of desperation, not out of love."

Marquez scoffed, his expression incredulous. "Desperation? Thelma loved me," he insisted, his tone defiant. "She would've never agreed to marry me if she didn't."

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Thelma married you because she had no other choice," I countered, my voice tinged with sadness. "She needed to escape her brother's killer's gang member family, and you were the only one who could help her."

Marquez's expression softened slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. "She loved you, Eugene," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could see it in her eyes every time she looked at you."

I felt a pang of guilt at his words, the memory of Thelma's love for me weighing heavily on my conscience. "I loved her too, Marquez," I confessed, my voice filled with regret. "But I couldn't protect her, not the way she needed me to."

Marquez's gaze softened, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "None of us could," he admitted, his voice tinged with sorrow. "We both failed her, Eugene. And now she's gone."

"Yes, she's gone," I agreed somberly, my voice heavy with grief. "But it's all Marquez's doing. Peter told me about what you did to Thelma, and now he feels guilty for knowing that Thelma died for nothing."

Marquez's expression hardened, his jaw clenched in defiance. "Thelma would've betrayed us to the FBI," he argued, desperation seeping into his voice. "She had to be put down to protect us all."

His words ignited a firestorm of rage within me, my fists clenching at my sides as I struggled to contain my fury. "Thelma would've never betrayed her family," I shot back, my voice laced with venom. "You murdered her in cold blood, Marquez."

 Before Marquez could respond, I reached for my weapon, intent on ending him. But before I could act, a voice cut through the tension like a knife, causing me to freeze in place.

"Dad!"

The sound of Claire's voice snapped me out of my rage-induced trance, my attention immediately shifting to her as she came running towards us. In that brief moment of distraction, I looked back to where Marquez stood, only to find him gone, vanished into thin air.

My heart sank as I realized that Marquez had slipped away, escaping justice once again. Anger and frustration boiled within me as I cursed under my breath, my hands trembling with rage.

But as I turned to face Claire, her eyes filled with concern and fear, I pushed aside my feelings of anger, focusing instead on comforting her in her moment of distress. Whatever vendetta I had against Marquez could wait. Right now, my priority was ensuring the safety and well-being of my daughter.

As Claire and I walked towards my car, her words about Daniel's death weighed heavily on my mind. The news hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt a pang of sorrow for the man who had become a part of our tangled web of fate.

"I'm sorry, Claire," I murmured, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know how much Daniel meant to you."

Claire nodded silently, her expression clouded with grief and anger. "I just can't believe he's gone," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

I offered her a reassuring smile, though inside, my heart ached for her loss. "We'll make Derek pay for what he's done," I vowed, my tone firm with determination.

As we reached the car, Chelsea's nervous gaze met mine, her eyes filled with uncertainty. I could sense her apprehension, her desire for answers amidst the chaos that surrounded us.

"Are you really my father?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with hope and disbelief.

I smiled warmly, nodding in affirmation. "Yes, Chelsea," I replied, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. "I am your father."

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, relief washing over her features as the weight of uncertainty lifted from her shoulders. "You look like your mother," I added, my voice soft with nostalgia and longing.

Chelsea's smile widened at the mention of her mother, a flicker of sadness passing through her eyes. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice filled with gratitude.

Together, the three of us climbed into the car, a sense of unity and determination settling over us as we prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead. With Claire by my side and Chelsea finally knowing the truth about her parentage, I knew that we would be able to confront whatever obstacles came our way, united as a family in our quest for justice and redemption.

As I settled into the driver's seat and started the car, I couldn't shake the heaviness that settled over me. Claire's tear-stained face in the rearview mirror was a stark reminder of the pain and uncertainty that loomed over us.

Taking a deep breath, I reached for my phone and dialed Dmitri's number. He picked up after a couple of rings, and I wasted no time in relaying the plan to him.

"Claire and Chelsea are coming back with me to the hotel," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within me. "Prepare for Derek."

I could hear the excitement in Dmitri's voice as he acknowledged my instructions, his eagerness palpable even over the phone. With the plan in motion, I ended the call and focused on the road ahead.

In the backseat, Claire's sobs echoed through the car, tugging at my heartstrings. Chelsea leaned in to comfort her, offering words of solace and reassurance. It was a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere that had filled the car moments earlier, and I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope stir within me.

Chelsea's Pov

As we arrived at the hotel, I couldn't shake the sense of unease that settled over me. Eugene checked us in while Claire and I stood by, still reeling from the events of the day. As Eugene handled the paperwork, I caught sight of Mr. Crewman approaching us.

Instinctively, I hid behind Eugene, my heart racing with a mixture of fear and confusion. Mr. Crewman greeted Eugene warmly, and my shock only grew as he introduced himself in a thick Russian accent.

"Dmitri," he said, extending his hand to Eugene. "It's good to see you, my friend."

Eugene nodded in acknowledgment, a faint smile on his lips. "Likewise, Dmitri," he replied, his tone polite but guarded.

I watched in disbelief as Dmitri embraced Claire, who was still visibly shaken from her earlier breakdown. It was clear that they shared a close bond, one that I had been completely unaware of until now.

As Eugene instructed us to go with Dmitri while he attended to some business, I couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration and resentment. How could Claire keep all of these secrets hidden from me? Did she not trust me enough to confide in me?

With a heavy sigh, I followed Dmitri, determined to keep up appearances despite the turmoil raging within me. But as we walked, Dmitri's impatient tone grated on my nerves, and I couldn't help but scoff at his remark about my pace.

"Put a pep in your skinny legs, Chelsea," he said, his tone laced with sarcasm.

I bristled at his words, feeling a surge of indignation rise within me. Who did he think he was, speaking to me like that? But I knew better than to provoke him further, so I bit back my retort and quickened my pace, eager to put some distance between us.

We stepped into the elevator, my eyes remained fixed on Dmitri, a mixture of suspicion and defiance evident in my gaze. With my arms crossed, i couldn't help but confront him about my suspicions.

"So, I was right. You are working for the FBI," i stated bluntly, my tone daring him to deny it.

Dmitri's response was unexpected. Instead of denying it or getting defensive, he burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the confined space of the elevator. my narrowed my eyes at him, not amused by his reaction and feeling even more convinced of my theory.

However, Dmitri's laughter eventually subsided, and he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "Oh, Chelsea, you never fail to entertain," he chuckled, still grinning.

I shot him a glare, unimpressed by his amusement. I didn't back down, my suspicions still lingering despite his laughter.

The elevator dinged, signaling the arrival at our floor. Claire, oblivious to the tension between us, stepped out first. Dmitri gestured for me to go next, his smile still lingering.

Rolling my eyes at him, i walked past him, her gaze never leaving his face until the elevator doors closed, separating them momentarily.

As the elevator descended, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Dmitri's laughter and refusal to confirm or deny my suspicions only fueled my distrust, leaving me wondering what secrets he was hiding.

We stepped into the hotel room, greeted by the plush surroundings and the inviting ambiance. Dmitri stood by the door, his demeanor warm and welcoming.

"I'm in room 128. The bellboy will bring your bags up," Dmitri informed us, gesturing towards the door.

Confusion flickered across our faces. "Bags?" i repeated, furrowing my brow. "We didn't pack any bags."

Dmitri chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Ah, don't worry about that. Eugene took care of everything. He bought you new clothes and all the essentials," he explained, a hint of excitement in his voice.

At the mention of Eugene's name, Claire's smile brightened, a glimmer of anticipation dancing in her eyes. It was the first genuine smile she had worn since arriving at the hotel.

"Thank you, Dmitri," Claire said gratefully, her voice filled with genuine appreciation.

I nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of gratitude towards Dmitri for his help. "Yeah, thanks," i echoed.

With a final nod, Dmitri bid us farewell and left the room, leaving Claire and i alone with our thoughts. As we glanced around the luxurious hotel suite, anticipation bubbled within us, wondering what surprise Eugene had in store for us when he returned.

Dmitri's pov

I arrived at Eugene's old house, the memories of my shared past flooding my mind as I stepped out of my car. my father had spent countless hours in this place, planning and scheming with Eugene, and now, it was time to put our plans into action once again.

I approached the front door, my senses were on high alert, my instincts telling me that something was amiss. But before i could react, the door swung open, revealing Eugene standing in the doorway.

As I stepped inside, i noticed a figure standing in the corner of the room, their features obscured by the shadows. At first, I didn't recognize them, but as they stepped forward into the light, i felt a surge of recognition wash over him.

"Andrew," Eugene said, his voice tinged with both sorrow and determination. "I'd like you to meet Dmitri. He's daniel's father."

"It's good to finally meet you, Dmitri," Andrew said, extending his hand in greeting.

I shook Andrew's hand firmly, a sense of respect and admiration filling him as he looked into the man's eyes. Despite the pain and loss he had endured, Andrew's resolve remained unbroken, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with him.

With introductions out of the way, Eugene wasted no time in getting down to business. "Derek will be arriving at the warehouse soon," he explained, his voice low and urgent. "We need to be ready."

I nodded in agreement, my mind already racing with plans and strategies. "I've got everything we need," i said, gesturing towards the bag at his feet. "Weapons, explosives, you name it."

Eugene's eyes gleamed with excitement as he surveyed the contents of the bag, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Perfect," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Let's go."

With that, the three of us made our way out of the house and towards my car. As we climbed into the car and set off towards the warehouse, i couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation that coursed through me.

Tonight would be the night we finally put an end to Derek's reign of terror, and nothing was going to stand in their way.