ONE MONTH LATER
“I’ve never met anyone so fucking stupid. It amazes me our father put you in charge of the company and the family, because you’re a fucking train wreck.” Wynter has been yelling at me for the last half an hour. Her hands rest on her swollen belly anytime they’re not flying around as she yells.
I bring my whiskey to my lips and drain the glass, my third for the night. This is a habit I’ve gotten into because I can’t bring myself to go to my bedroom, not when it still smells like her. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I change the sheets, or how often the housekeeper cleans the room, her scent is engrained in the very fiber of it. Just like she is me.
Sending her away was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But it was for the best and that’s what I’ve told myself over and over again for the last thirty-three days and sixteen hours.
I couldn’t even bear to watch her leave, not after all the disgusting things that came out of my mouth, but it was the only way she would go. She needed to hate me in order to leave.
She thinks I dumped her in a little town outside Montreal with nothing but a new name and an apartment, but she has at least six men watching her at all times. They’re hired help, but they’re the best of the best, and that’s what I need protecting my life.
Even if I can never be with her again. Even if I have to watch from the shadows as she lives a beautiful life, it’s worth it because I know she’s safe.
This isn’t the first time Wynter has lost her shit at me in the last month, and I’m pretty sure it won’t be the last, but I’m certainly getting better at taking it.
“Dove, maybe you should sit down,” Everett says carefully. She’s been more agitated than usual as she gets further into her pregnancy, and he’s walking on eggshells so she doesn’t set her sights on him.
“I don’t want to sit down,” she snaps. “I want this fucking asshole to go get that poor girl. You fucking broke her, Storm. Jesus.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“I read the report from the security team. She didn’t get out of bed for the first two weeks because of you. How could you do that to her? How could you hurt her after her family fucking sold her?”
“It was for her own good. Annalise was going to get to her. I had to do something. I had to keep her safe.” But even as the words come out of my mouth, I’m not sure I believe them. That was the reason at the time, but now? Now that I’ve calmed down and really thought about it? I don’t know why the fuck I did it.
“You can tell yourself that all you like, Storm, but I’m telling you that you’re a fucking idiot and if I wasn’t seven and a half months pregnant, I would be throttling you for being such a goddamn asshole.”
“It’s for her own good,” I repeat. But the more I say it, the less meaning it has. Because the only place that’s good for her is right here by my side.
