Falling For My Ex's Dad (Clarissa and Gabriel) novel Chapter 288

Gabriel’s POV

Marco’s laughter rattled through the restroom.

“Is that why you ruined my ties with the others? My partners? You had no right to interfere in what wasn’t yours!”

“I didn’t ruin anything,” Gabriel shot back. “I wasn’t the one stealing from them. I wasn’t the one hiding money in offshore accounts. All I did was expose you for the bastard you are.”

Marco’s chest heaved, his breath ragged. “And yet… I walked free. You tried to bury me, Gabriel, but here I am. Untouchable.”

“You think so?” Gabriel leaned in, his voice threatening. “Go near Clairessa again, just try it, and this time, there’ll be no getting out. I’ll make sure of it.”

Marco wiggled against Gabriel’s hold, fury twisting his face. “You think you’ve won? No… I’ll burn down everything you love, everything you built. Both of you will pay. Mark my words.”

Before I could breathe, Gabriel’s hand clamped around Marco’s throat and squeezed tightly. His heels scraped helplessly across the tiles, his face reddening as Gabriel’s grip tightened.

My chest seized. He wasn’t warning him, he was choking the life out of him.

“You come near me or my family again,” Gabriel growled, his voice raw with fury, “and I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

Marco’s eyes bulged, his fingers clawing frantically at Gabriel’s wrists. A strangled, broken rasp tore from his throat as he gasped, “Bastard… let me go. Don’t kill me. Let me go!”

The sound of it sent panic tearing through me like fire.

“Gabriel!” I rushed forward, clutching his arm. “Stop, you’ll kill him!”

He glanced at me, but the rage didn’t leave his face. His whole body was locked in violence. Marco’s gasps grew weaker, his body sagging against the wall.

I pressed both hands against Gabriel’s arm, forcing my voice steady even as it shook inside me. “Please. For my sake. We don’t need this bastard’s blood on our hands.”

His brows furrowed, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he’d squeeze harder.

Then his voice came low, dark. “Don’t mistake her mercy for mine. If you ever come near her again, I’ll gladly wash my hands in your blood.”

He released him with a shove. Marco crumpled, coughing, clutching his throat. Gabriel’s boot slammed into his stomach, and the burst of air from Marco’s lungs made me flinch.

“Run,” Gabriel spat.

Marco scrambled, staggering toward the door with blood streaking his face, one hand clutching his side. He coughed, nearly tripping over himself as he fled, a battered, bleeding wreck compared to the man who had swaggered in moments ago.

I stood frozen, my hands still trembling from where I’d gripped Gabriel, my heart thundering at the violence I’d just witnessed, and at the terrifying truth of what he had nearly done.

—----

The door slammed shut behind Marco, leaving silence in its wake, broken only by the pounding in my chest. My knees threatened to give out, and before I could steady myself, Gabriel turned to me. His face was still heated with fury, but behind it, panic.

“Are you alright?” His voice was rough.

I shook my head quickly, forcing words past the lump in my throat. “Now that you’re here… I’m fine.”

“Clairessa…” His voice broke on my name. He reached for me, cupping my face, then dropping his hands down my arms, over my shoulders, my waist, as if searching for damage.

He kissed me like a man starved, like a man who had just been reminded how close he came to losing everything. And I kissed him back with equal desperation, pouring all my fear, my relief, and my love into him.

When we finally tore apart, our lips breathless and swollen, I didn’t let go of his hands. Instead, my gaze caught on the blood streaked across his knuckles. My stomach twisted at the sight.

“Gabriel…” My voice softened as I reached for him. I traced trembling fingers over his bruised, bleeding hand. “This must hurt.”

He winced slightly but shook his head. “Not compared to knowing that psycho got close to you.”

I swallowed hard and pressed closer, whispering, “He’s gone now. It’s over.”

Lacing my fingers through his, I tugged gently. “Come on. Let’s get this cleaned up.”

I led him to the sink, turned on the tap, testing the water with my fingertips until it was warm. Then, holding his bruised hand under the stream, I carefully guided it beneath the water. Red swirled down the drain as I washed away the blood. He hissed at the sting, his jaw tightening, but didn’t pull back.

“You’re too gentle,” he murmured, his voice low, rough with everything unsaid.

“And you took a huge risk,” I countered softly, focusing on his wounds.

I reached for a towel, dabbing away the water before wrapping the fabric around his hand with as much care as if it were glass. My fingers lingered, brushing his skin, trying to soothe him.

But then his grip closed firmly around my wrist, I twisted slightly, struggling against his hold just enough to snatch my phone from the counter, before he pulled me closer until our bodies almost touched again.

His eyes bore into mine, no longer clouded by panic but by an urgent need.

“We need to know how Marco got in.”