Pretending to Be an Untouchable Crime Boss-Chapter 71: Questions to a Father.

"Fucked up?"

His father asked, stepping forward as James took a knee, waiting for the dizziness to fade away. "You’re mad, huh?" Mad that Daddy walked out? Mad that I wasn’t there to wipe your little ass?" His cracked lips curled. "Please. I was young. I wanted to live my fucking life."

He stepped closer to him.

"You and Rafael…you think I wanted either of you?" He let out a laugh. "You were just a bad fucking night. A mistake. An accident."

James remained on one knee as the dizziness faded, replaced by burning rage.

"I was stuck with your mother, thinking maybe, just maybe, I could tolerate it. But then you two came along and that was it. My fucking life was over."

"Do you know what it’s like?" He went on. "Looking at your own kids and feeling nothing? No love. No pride. Just regret. Every damn day, I woke up and saw you and Rafael, and all I could think was, ’Fuck. I ruined my life for this?’"

Even the bodyguard who grabbed James was getting mad.

His father let out a chuckle.

"So I left." He knelt down to James level. "And let me tell you something, best fucking decision I ever made."

James stared at him.

A decision. Not a mistake. Not an accident.

A choice.

"You know what’s funny?" He continued. "Even after I left, she still cried for me. Still loved me." He let out a laugh. "Pathetic, right? Begging for a man who never gave a shit."

A pause.

"But you know the real joke?" She should’ve just spread her legs for someone else. Maybe then, she wouldn’t have struggled so damn much."

After he said it he smiled and he wanted to hit James again, but the bodyguard didn’t really give a fuck about the fact, that Robert is James father.

The rifle stock hit him hard in the face.

He fell back, hitting his head against the floor, while James stood up, laughing.

"Yeah, you fucked up." He said, grabbing the bodyguard’s shoulder for support as he stepped toward his father, who was clutching his nose while blood gushed out.

"Let me…ask some questions…" James said as he knelt over him, gripping his shirt. "First question." He punched him, his knuckles colliding with his already broken nose.

"Where were you when we needed you the most?!" He hit him again.

"Where were you when we needed someone to protect us?!"

Another punch, this time, his hand slipped, striking his father’s mouth. His teeth cut into James’s knuckles, but he didn’t care.

"Where were you when we couldn’t eat for days?! Where?!" He shouted. "When Mom was about to sell her body, where the fuck were you?! When she couldn’t pay the bills, when she wanted us to have something to eat, where the fuck were you?!"

James punched him relentlessly, five times in a row. His father’s nose was barely more than a hanging piece of flesh at this point.

"Answer me!" He shouted. "Where were you when Rafael was bullied?! Where were you to stand by him, to show him what a dad does?!"

James hit him again, but this time, the punch was weaker. His body was giving up more than before.

"...all those birthdays, and you weren’t there, you pathetic shit."

"...sor…ry…" His father somehow managed to speak, even though his entire face was covered in blood.

His lips were split, his front teeth knocked out, his eyebrow torn open, his whole face was fucked up.

"Rafael cried every single day after you left us. And me too. Not because we loved you, but because we saw how much mom was suffering." He hit him once more.

"She wanted to sell her body, you fucker!" James grabbed his neck, slowly choking him. "Do you know what kind of shock that was, huh?!" His grip tightened as his father’s body jerked. "Seeing the mother I love more than anything make a decision like that?!"

Robert gurgled, trying to fight back, his hands clawing at James’s grip, but they slipped against the blood.

"I was the one who talked her out of it. At fucking sixteen years old. Can you imagine that? Talking to your own mother about a decision like that, just so she could give a life we deserve?!

His father’s face was turning red, veins bulging, his eyes wide with terror as his hands weakly clawed at James’s wrist.

It wasn’t enough.

He wanted him to suffer. He wanted him to feel what it was like to choke on nothing, on hunger, on loneliness, on years of fucking pain.

"You don’t get to say sorry."

His father let out a weak gurgle. His body was trembling, twitching. His face was turning a deeper shade of red.

James leaned in closer.

"She waited for you." His hands squeezed tighter. "Even after everything, she still waited."

His father’s struggles grew weaker. His kicks slowed. His hands fell away from James’s wrist.

But James didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

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"She kept believing, hoping that you’d come back. That maybe, just maybe, you gave a shit…but you never did. You never fucking did."

Robert let out a strangled wheeze, his body shaking.

"You left us to rot." He said his voice was shaking. "You left her to rot." His breathing was uneven now, his pulse hammering.

James should’ve felt satisfied. But he didn’t.

He wasn’t done.

"You ruined us." His voice was low, shaking with barely restrained rage. "Do you know that?"

A weak, pained breath was the only response.

"Do you know what it was like, watching mom break down, trying to keep us fed. Watching Rafael come home covered in bruises because he had no one to protect him?"

"Do you know how fucking worthless we felt?"

James’s blood boiled.

He slammed his fist into his father’s face again.

His father’s head snapped back, blood splattering the floor.

He hit him again.

And again.

With every strike, the memories resurfaced, the nights they went hungry, the days spent dodging landlords demanding money they didn’t have, the lies his mother told them to keep their hopes alive.

James could still hear Rafael’s voice, small, desperate, Do you think he’ll come back?

He never did.

And now? Now he was here, lying in a pool of his own blood, helpless.

James raised his fist once more—

And then warmth. Arms wrapped around him. Holding him back.

"James, stop it! Please!"

His mother.

Her voice shook, barely holding together.

James didn’t move. His heart pounded, his breath uneven. His father was barely breathing.

One more hit. Just one more.

But his mother wouldn’t let go.

Her fingers clung to him, her body trembling against his back. "Please," she whispered. "This isn’t you."

Just a little longer. Just a little more—

His fist came down again, crashing into his father’s already shattered face. Blood sprayed across the floor. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t care.

Not about the blood staining his hands.

Not about the way his father’s body barely twitched anymore.

The bastard deserved worse.

James raised his fist one more time—

Arms locked around him from behind, pulling him backward.

Bella. One of the guards. Their combined grip tightened, pulling him away before he could land another hit.

James thrashed against them, trying to shake them off, but their hold was firm.

He said nothing.

His breath was heavy, uneven. His fists remained clenched, knuckles raw, skin torn. His eyes, burning with fury, stayed locked on the motionless figure lying in a pool of his own blood.

His so-called father.

The man who had left them to starve.

The man who had never once looked back.

Now he was nothing but a broken doll on the ground, barely breathing, surrounded by the mess he had created.

James felt nothing.

Not pity. Not regret.

Just the satisfaction of knowing that for once, he had been the one to leave scars, meanwhile he was pulled away to another room his mother stood over the broken body of his once husband, who she loved.

But at that moment, seeing him covered in blood, she felt nothing. The pain he had caused her was buried deep within....a wound she could never forget. But…how could she let her son beat his father to death?

As she stood there, looking at Robert’s broken body, she realized something. Maybe this was the moment she truly saw James....not just as someone she never really knew, but as a boy far more broken than she had ever imagined.

She had heard it all.

She had even watched as James beat Robert without a second thought. And yet, she did nothing. No… she wanted this. She wanted to see him beg....to see him plead for his son to stop.

But more than anything… she wanted to see that James would never forgive him.