Page 146 of Dishonored

Caesar was at a point where he no longer wanted to even share the same air as this woman—but he wasn’t at a place where he could correct that issue for himself just yet. Oh, soon, sure. Not quite yet.

“What couldn’t I do for you?” Caesar asked. “Don’t you think I’ve done enough for you, Martina? Don’t you think you’ve taken enough from me?”

Everything.

She’d taken everything.

His mother’s place.

His father.

His trust in women.

Any love he might feel for his family.

His virginity.

Innocence.

Happiness.

This bitch and everything she had done to him turned Caesar into someone he might not have been, otherwise. And for the most part, he had learned to love this person staring back at him in the mirror.

He was who he was.

Nothing was ever that easy, either.

He thought it was kind of like grief—it sure felt a hell of a lot like it. He was grieving a man he could have been, and a life he could have had if she had not abused him for years. It was only now that he was finally starting to see how much her misdeeds and wrongdoings had shaped and affected him.

And she wanted something from him? After everything she did, this thing had the audacity to think she could demand anything from him?

It was infuriating.

Hilarious.

And entirely sad.

“Go crawl back into your hole, Martina,” Caesar muttered, his attention going back to his father’s grave. “No one cares to hear whatever problems you’ve got with me today. Add them to the list—I hear Cain keeps one just in case I ever want to go back to it.”

His step-mother huffed.

“No, this!” she shrieked.

Her voice grated on Caesar’s nerves.

“This grave,” Martina continued in that shrill way. “You had to bury him next to her. You couldn’t even give me that, Caesar!”

Ah, yes.

His one of two requests for this event.

Next to the church, he’d picked the grave for his father. Angelo had never said where he wanted to be buried should he die, and it hadn’t been in the man’s Last Will and Testament, either. This spot seemed like the perfect place.

Next to Caesar’s mother, Isabella.

Angelo would like that.

Turning on his heels, Caesar moved to step back on the path. But not before he called over his shoulder to Martina, saying, “It seemed appropriate that he be buried next to the only woman he ever loved, doesn’t it? You’ve lived for two decades knowing you were a replacement—I’m sure you can manage for a few more hours.”