He gripped my biceps, spinning me to him. “You aren’t.”
“So you’re going to leave Lottie?”
“Yes.”
Another gong to my chest. If it was so easy, then why have I been living in a fucking hellscape?
“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s go tell her.”
His eyes clouded. “It’s not that simple, Story—”
I put my hand up, stopping him. I already knew the words.
I’ll tell her tomorrow.
By the weekend we’ll be together.
I’m leaving her.
“If you force me to stay, you’re locking us into the very fates you spent your entire life trying to avoid.”
For a minute, I thought he might see the light. Shock and sorrow split his features.
“I couldn’t figure out why you would break us. Why you wouldn’t let me leave,” I whispered. “But it was so obvious. You want me all for yourself, Grayson Crowne, but you don’t want to keep me. Because I wasn’t good enough. Not to marry. Not to have your child—”
He gripped my face, dragging me closer, so tight his thumbs bruised, eyes mad and gleaming. “Is that what you think? That you aren’t good enough? I’m not good enough. Can you trust me? Can you trust that I won’t do that to us? I don’t want you as a mistress. I want you by my side forever.”
I stared into his blue eyes.
Trust him. Trust him after he’d shattered it forever?
“Then tell me why. Tell me why you chose her.”
I stared at him, waiting for an answer, a reason for everything he’d done to us. The clock in the room ticked and ticked. I exhaled.
Grayson Crowne had no reason.
I tried to push past him.
“I was trying to protect you,” he yelled.
GRAY
* * *
“By breaking my fucking heart?” She swiped at her nose.
“I thought you would leave. I thought you would…I didn’t think you would stay.”
Her brow furrowed. “That doesn’t explain why.”
She was finally leaving.
I should let her leave.
Why the fuck couldn’t I let her go?
The warnings I’d received, the portents of what would happen if Snitch got pregnant with my baby, hung like a storm cloud.
Even though I knew it was best… Every time I tried, I failed.
As she waited for me to form a response, some kind of answer that would make everything I did okay, the minutes stretched on, counted by the beeping of the hospital machines. Finally she exhaled, turning to leave.
Snitch.
Leaving.
Fuck.
“My grandfather was going to lock you up!” I yelled at her back.
She paused, slowly turning around. Distrust clouded her beautiful walnut eyes.
“That’s not…he can’t do that. I haven’t done anything.”
But I saw the doubt in her eyes. She knew my grandfather. She knew his reputation. She knew what he could do.
“He knows about your past, what your mother made you do. He gave me a choice, Snitch. Keep you as a mistress, let you go, or he’d cash in some favors and lock you up. I would never…” I exhaled. “I’d never ask you to be my mistress.”
She blinked. “How many other lies are you telling?”
“What?”
“How many other lies are you telling, Grayson? I thought we shared everything, but you…” She trailed off, blinking rapidly in the way I knew meant she was trying to stop herself from crying.
I wanted to go to her.
Hold her.
I opened and closed my fist until my nails seared my palm.
“Like you told me about West?” I said it before I could stop myself. “I…fuck, Snitch. I…didn’t mean—”
When her eyes found mine again, whatever vulnerability had been there was dead.
“Then let me leave,” she said, voice iron. “Let me disappear. I’m leaving Crowne Point. That was your whole plan, right? Break my heart? Force me to leave?”
She shot me a withering, hurt look, then turned to leave. She didn’t listen when I called her name. She just. Kept. Walking.
So I sprinted, cutting her off at the door, slamming my hands in the frame to lock her in the room.
She pushed at my chest.
And pushed.
“Get out of my way.”
“Do you know how useless power is when you actually have something to lose?” I asked. “That’s why my grandfather is so powerful. He couldn’t give a shit about any of us, even his own son. My dad died in a car accident on a perfectly sunny December day without any other cars around. Maybe someone was trying to get to Grandpa. Maybe my grandpa killed his own son because he wouldn’t listen. Maybe it really was an accident. Who the fuck knows?”
She stopped pushing, hands curling in the fabric of my shirt. She stared at my chest, biting her plump bottom lip.
After a moment, her stony eyes flashed to mine.
“You chose for us,” she said. “You didn’t give me the option. We could have chosen together, we could have chosen each other.”
“What would you have chosen, Story?” I backed her into the room. “Jail? Death?”
Her face went blank, eyes flickering. “I…You didn’t give me the option!”
I gripped her face, forcing her stare. “I would do it again. Every single fucking time I would take that option away from you.”
“Even now? Even after everything?”
“If it means keeping you alive. Keeping you safe. I will always fucking choose that. No matter the consequence.”
“So you get to play the martyr. You get to be Atlas.”
She pushed at me again, but I grabbed her, pulling her close. I hugged her so tight she couldn’t shove me, hugged her until maybe she could feel the truth in my heartbeat.
“I hate you, Grayson Crowne,” she mumbled against my chest. “I hate you. You broke us. You did this to us.”
I stroked her hair, hoping she could feel the apology in my touch.
For a few minutes it was perfect. Then she spoke again.
“Why is now different?”
She slowly pulled away from me, eyes watery and accusatory.
Why is now different? I’ve been fighting this thing since the day she kissed me in that fucking room, but it’s impossible. We’re woven together with the red thread of fate.
I took too long to answer, and she broke apart, taking a few steps back, until the back of her knees hit the hospital bed.
Her hand glanced her stomach. “I wasn’t enough to fight for…but my baby is.”
“No—fuck. Fuck no, Snitch.”
Everything I say is wrong. It’s going all wrong.
“What is the plan now, Grayson? Has your grandfather suddenly approved of me? Do we walk out of here arm in arm?”
I dragged my hands through my hair.
I don’t fucking know.
I don’t have these answers.
For her sake, I hope you wore protection.
If we walk out of here, and they find out she’s pregnant, she’s in even more danger. But I can’t let her disappear. I fucking can’t.
“I need to keep you safe,” was all I managed.
“What about what I want?” she demanded. “You want to lock me away in a tower.”
“No—”
“Will I get holidays? While you build your perfect family—the one you care so little about that you keep them around you all the time—will I at least get holidays?”
I scraped my fingers against my skull, trying to find the right words. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“We could have talked about this. You said you trusted me.”
“I do—”
“But you never told me. You just…hurt me instead.”
“Snitch—”
“I almost fell for it again. All your pretty words. But you just want to stash away the mistress, live happily ever after with
Lottie. Come visit me for holidays. Give me a nice stipend.”
“After everything, you still don’t trust me?”
“Why should I when all you do is lie!”
“I tell you the truth. You’re the only one I tell the truth to.” I gripped her wrist, begging her to see the truth in my eyes.
There was a cavern between us.
A vice grip on my heart.
She looked into my eyes, and I could see she was searching for something.
But fuck, whatever it was…she didn’t find it.
“I need you to believe me, Snitch,” I said.
Of everyone, I need her to believe me. I need her to trust me. I’d never needed anything more.
“I…” I swallowed the pain in my chest, the voice in my head calling me a fucking pussy. “I can’t have you not trust me, Snitch.”
Tears welled in her lids; then she shucked me off. “Get out of my way, Playboy Gray.”
I was losing her.
I couldn’t lose her.
“You try and leave, I will stop you.”
There was an icy-cold rush in my veins, and the closer she got to the door, the less I felt, the number I got.
She threw a look over her shoulder. “You can’t scare me into staying.”
“Snitch, I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to…” I dragged my hands down my face. I know this isn’t how you’re supposed to love. The seeds Snitch planted inside my heart in the dark had taught me that.
This is how my grandfather would handle it.
With threats and fear.
But I can’t think past my heartbeat rushing through my ears.
“I will make it impossible,” I said. “You will be put on no-fly lists. If you try and cross the border, they’ll catch you. If I have to become the Grayson Crowne you thought I once was to keep you here, I will.”
Her jaw flexed. “I can fight back now, Grayson. I have the money.”
I laughed, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “You have pennies compared to me. I’ll bleed you dry in a month.”
Her fingers froze on the buttons of her high-neck collar.
“Did you forget what you signed, Snitch? Whatever you see, discover, on my property is mine.”
She blinked. “You said our contract was void.”
“Terms to remain—”
“In perpetuity…” she finished. “But that wasn’t about a baby. It won’t hold up in court.”
“No.” I shrugged. “But you’ll have to stay in New York to fight it, and by the time the case is finished, I’ll have found a way to secure custody of my child.”
A hollow smile flickered across my face.
“You did this to us! You don’t get to just come back and decide you want me again!”
“Do you think I want to do this?” I yelled back.
Silence spread between us like bramble, cutting and catching.
“I know you’re good,” she finally said. “I know there’s good inside you. I know you care the most. Why can’t you stop pretending?”
I didn’t have an answer for her. After all, Snitch was the only one who ever saw any good in me. I don’t know if I ever really believed her.
“You don’t get to have this, Grayson Crowne. I won’t let this be my fate.”
My voice was cold when I spoke. “Good luck trying to retain a lawyer. Every big law firm from the East to West Coast is either on our payroll or trying to get on it. No one will touch you.”
Sixteen
STORY
* * *
Grayson gave me a warning the night we made love at his wedding, and I’d never understood what he meant.
Until now.
You’d never trap me, little nun. But I could trap you.
Trapped. Forced to hire a lawyer, when my only experience with them was on bus benches—and something tells me that guy isn’t going to be good enough to beat a Crowne.
I figured I had a better chance of getting a lawyer to fight Grayson Crowne if I showed them I could pay up front. I know how the world works, money talks. So I went to Crowne Point Credit Union, prepared to withdraw the money I’d been given and give it to anyone willing to help me fight a leviathan.
The teller’s eyes bugged when she saw the dollar amount residing in my account. She went speechless. Story Hale had never had anything more than a little over zero, and now she had millions.
“I…” She blinked. “I think there’s some kind of computer error.” She picked up the phone, dialing as her eyes remained on the screen.
“It’s not wrong. I need to make a withdrawal.”
Her gaze flickered to mine, but still she kept her phone shouldered, speaking low.
“How much?” she asked.
I chewed my lip, thinking. Not all of it, just enough to retain the best lawyer possible. “Five hundred thousand.”
Her fingers slipped and the phone clattered to the desk.
“You…” She swallowed. “You can only withdraw ten thousand at a time.”
“But I have millions in my account.”
“It’s federal law.”
My eyes landed on the pen chained to the desk. Green. Why did it have to be fucking green?
All these months wondering why Grayson chose Lottie over me. Agonizing. And in the end, it was because he didn’t trust me. I was pissed, but mostly because I still couldn’t hate him.
Protect me? He was trying to fucking protect me?
Grayson Crowne doesn’t just set himself on fire to keep others warm, he bleeds himself dry to keep them alive.
So when there’s nothing left of him…nothing left to be saved…he’s not there to see the ruin.
“Miss Hale?” I looked up, finding another woman in a maroon blazer had appeared behind the teller. She had straw hair and crow’s-feet spreading from her brown eyes. When she saw the computer, the same bug-eyed look fell across her face.
“Yes.”
“You were inquiring about a large withdrawal?”
“Five hundred thousand,” the first teller supplied.
“We’re a small credit union, Miss Hale. We don’t even have that much money on-site. If you want to draw more than that, it will take at least a week. But if I can give you my advice, with this kind of balance, you’re better suited elsewhere.”
“A week?” I exhaled as my shoulders dropped. “I don’t have a week.”
They exchanged a look, and I realized distantly what I must look like to them. A desperate woman who suddenly had millions, trying to get it all out.
“If you’re in trouble—” the manager started.
“I’m fine. I just need my money.”
Silence.
I wasn’t going to get five hundred thousand. It was locked away.
“I’ll take the ten thousand.” I sighed.
They gave me my money, and, dejected, I went outside to an unusually warm Crowne Point autumn day. By some joke of fate, a lawyer grinned on the bus bench at my back.
I still had the card from my uncle’s lawyer. It was thick, white stock and felt expensive. He’d told me to call him when I had a new place to live…but maybe he could help me.
After speaking to his assistant, I was put through to him.
“Miss Hale,” he said. “Have you secured a place of residence?”
“I…” I trailed off. He sounded so happy I’d called, and I felt awkward bringing up this problem over the phone. A place to live?
I hadn’t been back to Crowne Hall, I’d been sleeping in the motel.
“I need help fighting for custody,” I finally said. “Can you help?”
There was an audible pause. A car drove by, kicking up wind as I waited.
“I work in estates, Miss Hale. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t really know where to start.”
He continued to talk, offering platitudes. I murmured responses as I stared down Crowne Point’s Main Street, stretching long in front of me. The sun suddenly felt too hot on my back.
He ended the call, and
though I was terrified, I was determined not to give up. Because for the first time, I wasn’t alone. I had someone else depending on me.
I googled big law firms and found most of them resided in New York. So I took the train, trying to come up with a plan of action. My chest ached, though. I wanted a happily ever after with Grayson. Not…this.
Parallel to me, two girls who looked about fifteen watched me.
“Excuse me,” the blonde one finally asked. “Is your name Story?”
My throat seized.
“No,” I lied.
They didn’t seem entirely convinced, watching me the entire ride there, and even held up their phone to—I swear—take a photo of me. I scrambled off the train as quickly as possible.
My first stop was a towering, silver skyscraper. A lawyer I’d read rarely lost a case.
“She doesn’t take walk-ins,” the receptionist said without looking up.
“I’m…Story Hale,” I said cautiously, wondering for the first time if my name would register with someone.
Her eyes lifted, narrowing in interest. She buzzed me in and escorted me to a large conference room that overlooked New York City. The people were ants beneath me. Again, that lung-shrinking fear overcame me.
I was fighting back.
I was using my name.
I wanted to hide.
“Ms. Hale?”
I turned, finding a woman in a sharp black suit and sharper eyes.
“Usually the mistress doesn’t come in person,” she said.
The word hit me like a stab in the chest, but I powered through it.
“I’m not a mistress. I need someone to help me fight Grayson Crowne. I can pay in cash.” I piled stack after stack on the table. “I have more of this.”
She eyed it and, without any emotion, met my eyes. “You want to retain me against the Crownes?”
I nodded.
She stood up, eyes cold, buttoning her suit.
“We’re done.”
“But—”
The door slammed.
And that was how every interaction went, up and down New York City, finally concluding with the last lawyer, who said, “Let me give you a piece of advice, Miss Hale. There isn’t a spot on this earth the Crowne hand doesn’t hold. Whatever fight you have with Mr. Grayson Crowne, give up the idea you can win.”
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