Tied To You

by Kyndall, Kit

Dr. Patel nodded. “She’s having contractions, but they aren’t steady, so that’s a good sign. The best case scenario is everything will calm down, and we’ll be able to release her in a few days. She might require bed rest or modified bed rest for the duration of the pregnancy, but that’s the outcome we’re hoping for.”

  “And the worst case?” I didn’t want to ask the question, but I had to know.

  “The worst case is her contractions stabilize and become consistent, indicating labor is underway. If that happens, your son will be born much too early, and he’ll require a lot of medical support. Micro-preemies often go on to do quite well, but it’s never an ideal outcome, of course.”

  “Of course,” I repeated, feeling sick. “Can I see her? Them?”

  Dr. Patel nodded and led me back through the maze of hallways and corridors to the labor and delivery department. I hoped that meant Gabriella herself was doing better, because I knew she had started out in a trauma room. “What about my fiancée? How is her health?”

  “She has some bruises and a broken rib, along with a concussion, but she’s in surprisingly good shape considering a car hit her. It’s too soon to tell when she’ll be out of here, but right now we’re keeping her primarily because of the pregnancy. If she weren’t pregnant, she would probably just be kept for overnight observation and discharged tomorrow.”

  My heart fluttered with hope, and I was grateful I hadn’t lost her too. Obviously, I hoped our baby would hang in there and wait several more weeks to be born, since he wasn’t due for another fifteen weeks, but at least I still had Gabriella. If the worst happened, we could hold fast to each other and perhaps someday be able to face the thought of having another child. Without her, I would have had nothing left at all to which to cling.

  My throat was thick with tears when I entered her room a few moments later, Dr. Patel leaving me at the doorway. I went to her bedside and sat down, taking her hand in mine. She stirred slightly, her eyelids drifting upward, and she gave me a small smile.

  “Mykael,” she rasped.

  “Would you like some water?” At her tiny nod, I reached for the cup someone had already provided and held it for her so she could take small sips through the straw.

  “How’s the baby?”

  I frowned, wondering if they hadn’t bothered to tell her, or if she was simply not remembering in her current state. I relayed what I knew, and we clung to each other as the fear set in.

  Abruptly, she stiffened a few minutes later, leading me to do the same. Panic thrummed in me as I leaned over her bed. “What’s wrong? Did you have a contraction?” When she shook her head, my panic abated slightly. “What’s wrong then?”

  “I just remembered Annika was with me. Do you know if she got safely back to the apartment?”

  Dammit. My sister was still in the waiting room, where I had abandoned her in my rush to get to Gabriella. Feeling guilty for not making sure she was with me before Dr. Patel led me here, I pressed the nurse’s call button. I wasn’t leaving Gabriella’s side, but surely one of the nurses could escort Annika back to us. If necessary, I would explain my sister’s anxiety, but fortunately the nurse who came to our room seemed to understand Annika needed assistance without prying for details.

  As we waited for my sister to join us, I held her hand and held fast to the hope that the contractions would ease, and I’d soon be able to take home my little family, with my son still inside his mother’s womb. I was still struggling to accept that my mother’s hatred and prejudices could run so deeply that she would instigate these events.

  Chapter Nine

  Mykael

  Somewhere around two a.m., Gabriella convinced me to take Annika home so she could rest. I know she intended for me to sleep too, but I lay in our bed, finding it too large without her there, though I had slept in it for years alone before she came into my life and had never had that problem. I just couldn’t sleep. I was too preoccupied and too on edge, expecting my phone to ring at any moment to inform me Gabriella was in labor.

  By four a.m., I gave up. As I prowled the apartment, I decided now was as good a time as any to confront my mother. I didn’t give a damn if she was sleeping soundly. It would give me a strong measure of pleasure to wake her up and tell her she’d failed to separate us, and our baby was okay—at least for now.

  I dressed hurriedly in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before leaving my apartment. I hadn’t seen my mother since that last day in her office. We had gone out of our way to avoid each other during the three weeks I’d worked at the firm thereafter, and we hadn’t run into each other in the hallways of the apartment building either. In the beginning, I’d assumed we would have to sell this place and move elsewhere, but she’d never confronted us, so it had become a moot point.

  Now, I determined I would sell this place and move Gabriella and Connor somewhere far away from my mother once he was born. I wouldn’t have her so close to them. If I could prove she was behind the attempt to kill Gabriella—or at least incite a miscarriage—I would send her to prison without a dart of regret. I hadn’t given up on that yet, but I needed to see her first before hiring investigators to see what they could dig up on her plot.

  I half-expected her to have changed the locks, but my old key slipped in easily. I moved quietly through the apartment, not wanting to disturb Annika, who must surely have collapsed in her own bed by now. Instead, I went to my mother’s room and opened the door. I closed it behind me and leaned against it before turning on the overhead light with the switch. “Wake up, Mother,” I said firmly.

  Her form moved under the blankets, and a frail hand emerged. I realized it was thinner than I remembered, and her skin looked dull. When she sat up a moment later, I was shocked by how much older she looked. It had only been two months, but it might as well have been ten years.

  I hardened my heart, shoving aside the dart of concern spearing me. She was clearly not thriving in our separation, but if she was feeling well enough to arrange for someone to hit Gabriella with a car, she must be fine.

  She frowned at me, her gaze blurred with sleep for a few seconds until she blinked rapidly. Then she looked more like my mother, especially with her stiff expression and cold eyes. “What are you doing here?” Her tone started cold, but then softened as concern flashed across her face. “Is Annika all right?”

  I nodded as I pushed away from the door and approached her bed. I stood a few feet away, crossing my arms over my chest as I looked down at her with all the disgust I felt blazing in my expression. “How could you?”

  She flinched, but I didn’t know if it was from my gaze or the anger crackling in my tone. “How could I what?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me.” I practically roared the words at her. “You nearly succeeded in killing Gabriella and our child. I want to know who you hired. They’re going to prison, and you’ll be lucky to escape a similar fate.”

  My mother held up a hand, her face reflecting confusion. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Mykael. What’s happened?”

  “The car ‘accident’ you arranged nearly succeeded. Gabriella is in the hospital, and Connor could come at any time.”

  She frowned, and it was convincing. “I’m still confused. That…your girlfriend is in the hospital, and she was hit by a car?”

  I started to shout at her again, but I hesitated. My mother could be cool and aloof, and she was a good manipulator, but she seemed genuinely confused. Could it be I had incorrectly assumed she was the one who’d gone after Gabriella? “She was deliberately hit by a car that jumped the curb to run her over yesterday afternoon. She’s going to be okay, but the baby won’t do well if he comes this early.”

  Her already wan face paled further, taking on a gray tinge that was unhealthy. “And you thought I had arranged that?” A small sob escaped her, but she turned away from me rather than letting me see it. “Oh, what have I done?”

  Now I was as confused as she pretended to be, if she was pretending. She seemed genuinel
y hurt, and she hadn’t made a point of showing me her emotional reaction. “Did you hire someone to hit her with a car?”

  She shook her head, her face swinging back to me as her gaze seemed to implore me to believe her. “I didn’t, son. I swear it to you. I swear on your father’s grave that I had nothing to do with it. That you think I could…” Another sob rose in her throat, and she buried her face in her hands.

  I didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, her being guilty was the only logical conclusion. However, it was difficult to doubt her sincerity when she was behaving so contrary to her usual patterns of manipulative behavior when she wanted to bend someone to her will. If it wasn’t her, then who had tried to kill my fiancée and our child?

  ***

  Gabriella

  I had sent Mykael home to get some rest, hoping to do the same. They had given me some amazing painkillers for my broken rib and assorted aches, and I had drifted off easily. Now, I woke with a vague sensation of panic, feeling as though I was dipped in molasses and trying to fight my way out of a thick layer of material determined to keep me captive. Even in that state, I knew I wasn’t alone. I also knew it wasn’t the familiar and comforting presence of Mykael in the room. “Who’s there?”

  A figure coalesced from the shadows, one I had hoped to never see again. Wayne stepped closer to the bed, and my blood felt like it froze in my veins as I stared up at the handsome face framed by light blond waves and hazel eyes that should be warm, but never were for me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to realize if I want something done right, I’m going to have to do it myself.”

  He didn’t expound on his enigmatic statement, and I looked at him with mounting fear. He had never physically hurt me before, but something about him like this had all my internal alarms screaming. I reached for the remote that would allow me to call the nurse, only to discover it wasn’t near my hand, where I had left it. I fumbled around for the cord, hoping to drag it up to me if it had fallen over the side of the bed, but found nothing.

  He chuckled, his fake cocktail party sound of amusement, as he lifted the remote. The cord was cut, and I didn’t know how he had managed that, but it certainly wasn’t going to work now.

  I tried to swallow my fear and put on a brave face. “What are you doing here? You should know you’re the last person I’d ever want to visit me.”

  He shook his head, clicking his tongue in an exaggerated fashion. “There you go again, Gabriella. You’re always so difficult. Difficult to put up with, difficult to manipulate, and difficult to get rid of. You’re so much like your father in that regard.”

  I stared at him with uncertainty as fear crept up my spine like an ice cube trailed across my back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means Gabriel was too damn stubborn to die too. It took three attempts before he finally succumbed to cut brake lines.”

  I stifled a gasp with my hand, trying to avoid surrendering to the emotions suddenly welling in me. “Why would you kill my father? Did you want my mother that badly?” I had only a few vague memories of my dad, since he had died when I was just four, but he had been a big man full of life and usually laughing. I remembered he had loved me, and I knew it with absolute certainty. I didn’t know whether to break down in tears or to scream at the man who had taken my father from me.

  “Of course I wanted Sophie, but I’ll admit that wasn’t my primary motivation. Your father and I had been friends for a while, and his company was doing quite well. He was producing green energy before it became fashionable or highly funded, and he was already having good results. Even in the business environment of two decades ago, when oil was still king, he was making good progress and had several financial backers with deep pockets. I must admit to the sin of envy.” He winked at me as he spoke the words in a lighthearted fashion, as though we were sharing a joke.

  My stomach hurt, and I wasn’t certain if I was having a contraction or if it was just everything I had learned penetrating my mind and manifesting itself as a physical ache. “Why are you trying to kill me?” I didn’t have to be Agatha Christie to figure out he was the man behind the car trying to hit me, even if he hadn’t been driving. “It wasn’t you behind the wheel?”

  He answered my second question first. “No, that was Louis, who can’t drive for shit apparently. How hard is it to run down a pregnant woman? You’re the size of a house, for fuck’s sake.”

  I guessed his words were meant to hurt me or be another dig about my weight, which had always been one of his favorite areas to criticize. This time, it didn’t even bother me. I had more important things to worry about than whether or not I was a perfect size-two. “Why would Louis help you try to kill me?”

  His smarmy politician smile broke through. “I’m of the J. Edgar Hoover school of friendship, I guess you could say. It’s beneficial to have dirt on everyone.”

  Remembering something Mykael had said to me the first night we’d been together, I asked, “Isn’t it his and Rich’s gun company that’s providing your neo-Nazi friends their illegal weapons?”

  His expression iced over, and he seemed genuinely shocked that I knew about that. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything, since he clearly hadn’t realized anyone was on to him, but it was satisfying to throw him off-kilter, event temporarily.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  I let it go, more concerned about my life and Connor’s than I was about the guns he was illegally providing to dangerous people, at least for the moment. “Why do you hate me enough to want to kill me? I’m out of your life, and you’re out of mine. You could have just let it go.”

  Wayne moved closer to the bed, sighing for dramatic effect. “It’s not that simple, Gabriella. It never is, is it?”

  I shrugged as my stomach tightened again, and this time I was certain it was a contraction. Panic was trying to well in me, and I didn’t know what to do. I could scream for help, perhaps before he could close the distance between us, but I wanted to know his motivations before I did so. Of course, I wouldn’t hesitate if the danger escalated, even if I didn’t get the answers I needed.

  “It’s not about hate, dear,” he said with absolutely no warmth. “Of course, that’s not entirely true. I do hate you, because you’re proof that Sophie was Gabriel’s first. She loved him insanely and intensely, and it took far too long to convince her to move on. Unfortunately, you were part of the deal. I tried to get rid of you once, but you survived that incident, and I was afraid to try again. Who knew you could hold your breath for so long?”

  I blinked in shock as a memory came to me, being a little girl and playing in Wayne’s pool. I think it was before he and my mother had married, and before he had become such a dick to me. He’d never been overly nice, but until after the wedding, I think I remembered he at least treated me with the appearance of kindness.

  I don’t remember the circumstances to this day, but I recalled being trapped underwater and nearly drowning. At the time, Wayne had convinced my mother and myself that my long hair must have gotten caught in the drain, preventing me from surfacing.

  He had been the one to pull me from the pool, and now I speculated that he had been the one holding me underwater and had “miraculously” rescued me when my mother had appeared faster than he’d planned, not allowing him time to finish the job. I shuddered, realizing just how ruthless he was.

  “Your hate makes no sense. You sent me away and out of your hair right after my mother died. I came back after graduation, but left within a week. I don’t understand why you’re doing this now.”

  “For one thing, I won’t endure the humiliation of my stepdaughter marrying a ni…black man. I will not tolerate your mixed-race bastard being associated with my name.”

  I glared at him with all the hatred I’d felt throughout the years, hoping he could see it in my eyes. “So I’ll change it. I plan to as soon as Mykael and I get married anyway.” I shook my head. “I have no intention of being pa
rt of your family, and you know it. Your actions make no sense.”

  “If you want to oversimplify things, it all comes down to money. Your father split his company in his will, with half going to your mother and half to you. Sophie was your executor, and she was happy to turn over the operations to me, and Craig was valuable for running the company, since my political career takes up most of my time.

  “When Sophie died, I learned just how complicated the trust was that your father had set up. It was like he expected someone to come along and knock him off and planned to foil that person’s plans.” He gave a bitter laugh. “He didn’t see it coming, of course. To the bitter end, he thought we were friends, and he had no idea how much I coveted his wife and his company.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment as the horror overwhelmed me. Almost immediately, I forced my eyelids up again, knowing it was imperative to keep my gaze on him at all times. “This has something to do with money then?”

  “As I just said,” he said impatiently. “Your mother was allowed to have anyone she wanted administering her shares of the company and your trust, but when she died, everything went to you instead of me. I wasn’t even the executor of your trust fund.”

  “But you said—” I broke off, realizing Wayne must have lied to me when he had very briefly told me everything that had been my mother’s was now his. That conversation had taken place shortly before he’d sent me to boarding school to finish high school, and then on to a Swiss university, claiming it was the only one he would pay for as the executor of my trust. I had been a damned fool to trust him. “I can’t believe no one told me the truth.”

  “Oh, Emil Mancuso tried. You had an unusually dedicated attorney who kept trying to reach you. It started two days after your mother’s funeral, and it culminated with him coming to the house demanding to see you.” Wayne shook his head, mock-puzzled. “Why, it was almost as if Mancuso suspected I had shady plans for your inheritance.” His rich baritone projected a hearty laugh.