Chapter 183 The Party Man Roman The Lawman. The Medicine Man. The Party Man. The General. The Professor. Those names circled my head like music on repeat. The house was silent, too still for night. It was as if the kitchen respected the gravity of what Reese had just said. “Tell me what this Professor’s real name is.” My voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. Too rough. Too hollow. Too stretched thin. Reese didn’t look at me at first. His fingers rested loosely on the table, as though he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to keep holding himself together or fall apart. “I don’t know all their names. I only ever knew one. If anyone knows more than me, it’s The General. He was the one with rank. The one with all the power. The one they answered to.” His throat bobbed. “The only thing I know for certain is that he kept tapes.” My heart stopped mid-beat. “Tapes?” My voice cut through the air. “Tapes of Dahlia?” His eyes flickered up to mine. “Yes. But the tapes were not exactly about Dahlia. They were for the men. I believe he kept them as leverage. Insurance. He recorded them so none of them would ever defy him. As long as he had those tapes, they obeyed his every command. Because the last thing they want is those recordings getting out to the public.” The floor lurched beneath me. I tried to breathe, but the kitchen felt too tight, like the air itself was choking me. My vision blurred. My legs buckled. I sank to the cold tile like someone had struck me in the spine. My hands covered my face because I couldn’t look at the world. Not right now. Not with this truth burning through me. “Jesus…” My voice cracked. “Jesus Christ, what did they do to you, Dahlia?” Everything I had believed snapped like an old bone. All these years. All the resentment. All the bitterness. All the nights I cursed her memory. All the times I convinced myself she betrayed me. She didn’t cheat. She was abused. My wife had been dying in front of me, and I had been too blind. Too proud. Too consumed with ambition to see how she was being devoured from the inside. She was screaming and I was deaf. Begging and I was absent. Suffering and I was busy. I let my wife die in silence. A tremor went through my chest violently and sharply. Reese lowered himself to the ground beside me, knees touching the tile. His voice was steady, but his eyes were pained. “Roman… This is not the time to break. Dahlia deserves justice. We need to get those bastards. We need to get those tapes from The General.” A bitter laugh forced itself out of me. It sounded wrong. Hysterical. Empty. “Justice? Is that what you think this is all about?” I looked at him with rage battering my ribs. “Then why were you silent? Why didn’t you say anything? You knew. You could have stopped something. Why didn’t you give her the justice she deserved?” His jaw clenched. His voice was a quiet cut. “Because you were her husband. You were the one she cried over. The one she died miserable for. You were the one she wanted to see her. Not me.” My breath froze. He wasn’t shouting. He didn’t need to. “You’re a bastard,” I muttered. The words burned my tongue. “You’re a bloody fucking bastard, Reese.” He stared straight into me. No anger. No fear. Just truth. “I have never pretended to be the hero,” he said softly. “I know exactly what I am. I know what I see every time I look in the mirror.” My nostrils flared. Rage rose before I could stop it. I shoved him backward. “Then what do you see when you look in the mirror? The worst fucking person alive? A selfish, self-serving prick? What do you see? Tell me!” He didn’t move back far. He grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me eye to eye with him. His breath brushed my cheek. “I see you, Roman.” Silence slammed into the room. “I see you every time I look in the mirror,” he continued. “Because for years, the only identity I ever had was the one you and Father carved into me. A brat. A disappointment. A traitor. Worthless. The Black Sheep of the Blackwood family.” His voice lowered but sharpened. “But the truth you refuse to admit is that you hate me because you hate yourself. I am everything in you that you don’t want to face. That you don't want to admit. That you don't want to embrace.” The words hit like a fist to the ribs. I froze, breath shallow, chest burning. I tore his hands off my shirt and shoved him hard. “Get away from me.” His lips curled in a sad, tired smile. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it? You can hate me if you want. You can curse me. It won’t change a thing. I never hated you, Roman. I would never hate you. You’re my brother. You're my blood.” The kitchen light flickered, humming softly. The clock ticked. Midnight didn’t touch either of us.I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. He stood and leaned against the counter. His silhouette looked frayed. Like he was held together by threads. “Father planted discord between us. He nurtured it. Fed it. He built this divide and convinced you to water it with resentment. And it worked. It pulled us apart. It drove me back to him. He kept me close because of what I know.” I swallowed. My throat scraped like gravel. “If he’s so determined to keep you under control, then why let you come here? Why are you in my house?” Reese’s expression didn’t change. “Maybe he hoped you’d hate me enough to kill me in my sleep. Maybe he hoped you’d think Savannah and I were having an affair and snap. Or maybe he just wants to watch us destroy each other. Take your pick. He enjoys the spectacle.” My stomach knotted. Father’s shadow felt everywhere. Cold. Watching. Always watching. I dragged my hand down my face. “I do not hate you, Reese. I never did. I only hated what I believed you did. What he made me believe. If we are going against him, then we go fully. You have to tell me what you know. Tell me who touched Dahlia. Tell me what The Professor looks like.” I needed the truth like oxygen. I needed a target. A face. A neck to break. Reese inhaled slowly. “I don’t know his real name. All I know is that he was in education. A professor, likely. High-ranking. Untouchable like all his friends. That is why they call him ‘The Professor’.” My fist tightened against the tile. A curse tore from my throat. The pieces were close. I could feel it. Professor Kingston. The one man that knew my father. That has got to be that bastard's connection to my father. Right? It had to be him. It had to. Reese looked at me again. His eyes flickered with something else. Something darker and almost… colder. “Roman,” he said quietly. “Remember when I mentioned earlier that there was one real name I knew?” My pulse spiked. I nodded once. “The Party Man.” Reese’s voice dropped. “I saw him in the tapes. I recognized him from a news broadcast before I ever understood what was going on behind the scenes.” The kitchen felt like it tilted sideways. “Who is he?” My voice was barely audible. Was it a club owner? A man obsessed with debauchery? Parties? Orgies? Was that the reason behind the alias? Reese looked at me without blinking. “The Party Man is Senator White.” Everything stilled. I guessed wrong. A memory slammed into me. Penelope. The trial. The scandals. The threats. The man she was defending his son for obvious carelessness and murder in broad daylight. Then it all made sense about why Reese was doing this. He wasn’t helping me out of brotherly loyalty. It wasn't just an easy way to get laid. This was personal. This was vengeance. Penelope was the catalyst. And I finally understood him. “I get it. So that's why…” Reese exhaled. “Now you see.” I nodded slowly, feeling something inside me lock into place. Not grief. Not guilt. Something sharper. Cleaner. Vengeful. My heart hardened around a single, burning purpose. “Then we burn them all,” I said. Reese didn’t smile. He nodded.