Chapter 167
Michael sat in his apartment, his head in his hands, his mind racing with thoughts of the morning's confrontation.
His whole life felt like it was hanging by a frayed thread, barely held together, slipping more with every second.
He got up, pacing back and forth across the living room.
He could almost feel the cell walls closing in, imagining the metallic clang of prison doors locking him inside
forever.
How did it cto this? He'd had it all planned- every detail- but somehow, Derek had found out. And Evelyn.
Why did they all seem so concerned about her, like she was part of the family? The way Derek had looked at him
earlier, there was something personal there. Why was Derek so invested in her? The sudden ring of his phone
pulled him out of his thoughts.
Glancing at the screen, Michael scowled when he saw Sandra's nflashing. His stomach twisted, the rage
bubbling up inside.
He could almost see her smirking, completely oblivious to the fact that he knew her plan to get rid of him.
How could she sound so normal, so calm, when she was plotting his death? He gripped the phone tightly, wishing
he could scream at her, confront her, make her suffer. But he coulan't. He knew now that their call was being
monitored, and two cops stood just outside his door, ready to step in if he so much as made a wrong move.
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With a deep breath, he swiped to answer, keeping his tone as steady as he could manage. "Hello, Sandra."
"Hey, Michael! How are you doing?" Sandra's voice chimed, light and pleasant, as though nothing had changed.
"I hope | didn't catch you at a bad time."
"Not at all, he replied, forcing a casual tone despite the tension in his jaw.
"Well, that's wonderful," she cooed. "I actually need a favor, if you don't mind."
Michael clenched his fist, silently cursing her nerve. "What is it?" He asked, knowing that she was probably
calling to send him out as she had promised the hitman she would. "Oh, it's nothing too big, just a little help with
a delivery," Sandra explained sweetly. "I ordered a few things online. The person handling it was quite insistent
about meeting at a specific location rather than doing a hdelivery. Would you mind picking it up for me? I'd
do it myself, but I have that class to attend." "What exactly did you buy that needs to be picked up at such a
‘discreet’ location?" Michael asked with suspicion laced through his words despite his effort to keep his tone
neutral.
"Oh, Mike," she chuckled lightly, "it's nothing so serious. You know, sessentials for your aunt's birthday. Just
a few things to make sure the party goes off without a hitch. | will stop by your place to pick it up tomorrow and
spend the day with you. I've been missing you," Sandra said with a pout.
The way she breezed through the explanation made Michael's skin crawl. He knew without a doubt that he would
have so easily fallen into her trap had he not heard of her plan before now. Never would he have doubted such a
harmless-sounding request.
"Will you be able to help me, or should | make other arrangements?" Sandra asked, confident that he would help
since Michael always ended up doing whatever she wanted no matter what, especially if there was the promise
of a sexual reward. "Fine, he replied. "Sendthe details, and I'll pick it up," Michael said with a resigned sigh.
"Thank you! | knew I could count on you." Sandra's voice practically sang with triumph.
He heard her inhale as if to end the call, but he stopped her, his voice softer, almost hesitant. "Sandy... do you
still love me?"
There was a brief silence before she broke into a light laugh. "Of course | always have and always will, Mike.
Don't be silly! Why would you ask such a thing? You know you mean the world to me."
He felt his heart shatter at her response, the forced warmth, the fake affection. She sounded exactly like the
woman he had once loved with every fiber of his being, and yet now he saw her for what she was - manipulative,
callous, and deadly. "No reason. | was just wondering." "Well, | need to go," she said quickly. "Derek should be
here soon, and | have to finish getting ready. Thank you again, Mike. You're a lifesaver! I'll send you the location
and stuff."
She hung up the call before he could say anything else, and the line went dead.
Michael let his hand fall, the phone slipping from his grip and onto the couch beside him. He just stared at the
wall for a moment, feeling an overwhelming sense of loss and emptiness.
Tears pricked at his eyes, and he didn't bother to stop them as they slid down his cheeks. He felt like a fool, used
and discarded by the one person he had loved and trusted most.
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All he had done- every lie, every crime- had been for her, and now she was ready to toss him aside like he was
nothing more than a
rag.
Had she ever loved him? Had she ever really cared about him? Or had he only been a means to an end? Had he
been to Sandra, what Evelyn had been to him?
He hadn't realized how much he had messed up until now. The thought of everyone in the family finding out
about what he had done only made him feel worse.
A chilling thought crept into his mind, dark and unyielding. What if he didn't go along with the plans? What if he
took control and ended this cycle of betrayal himself?
He could envision it: confronting Sandra, taking her life as she had planned to take his, making her pay for the
twisted web she had trapped him in. He could take her down, then kill himself, and escape the judgment of
prison. It would be the only way to end her deceit and rid himself of this pain. He remembered Derek's warning
but assured himself that there was no way Derek could do anything to him if he succeeded in killing himself and
Sandra.
It would be in the best interest of everyone if he did it since prison was too good a place for someone as evil and
wicked as Sandra.
Taking a deep breath, Michael made up his mind to go along with the plan for now, then he would find a way to
carry out his own plan. He was not going to let Sandra go scot-free. They could both go to hell together.