by Kendra Leigh
Savannah stands there in the doorway like a lioness come to stake her claim. Everything about her screams power and control. She’s dressed immaculately in a tailored trouser suit and heels, briefcase in hand, her hair pinned smartly into a chignon. Physically, she is in astounding condition, mostly due to her prospering friendship and subsequent workouts with Jia. Mentally and emotionally, she’s like a flower coming in to bloom; each day she flourishes, a brand-new bud bursting forth. She glows with a rare vivacity for life that is nothing less than heartwarming to witness. Every hair on my body stands on end. Her eyes find mine and something passes between us. It’s fleeting, but it says a million things that words can’t. I tear my eyes away from her just long enough to get a glimpse at Harper. His eyes are squinting as if he can’t make out what he’s looking at, and when he finally processes it, I hear the profanity hiss from his mouth.
“What the fuck?”
“Good morning, gentlemen.” Savannah enters the room, and Ethan moves to meet her, proffering his hand for her to shake.
Harper pushes his chair back and stands as if he’s about to rush to her. “Savannah, darling, what are you doing here? Where have you been? I was so worried.”
The way he addresses her makes my skin crawl, and I’m already edging out of my seat. I don’t need to bother, though. Savannah raises her finger to her lips.
“Shush!” She warns sharply. “Sit.”
Harper’s chin hangs slack with shock, and he sits down in his chair.
Ethan, struggling to mask his amusement, addresses the board, ignoring Harper. “Ms. Marshall, you’re just in time. Gentleman, I believe you’ve already met Savannah Marshall, you’re new CEO.” The board stands, each one reaching to smile and shake her hand.
“Marshall? What the fuck? She’s Savannah Harper, my wife,” Harper exclaims dramatically as if the news will shock his audience.
The board has already been primed to expect his outburst and know that Savannah has recently reverted to her maiden name, so everyone ignores him.
“We’ll do the handover immediately, shall we? Get the paperwork out of the way, and then we can turn our attention to other matters.” Ethan pulls out a chair for Savannah, who smiles and sits down. “I trust you and your lawyer have read through the contract and you’re both happy with it?”
“Yes, everything seems entirely acceptable. Thank you, Mr. Wilde. I have payment with me for the agreed price. Shall we settle now?”
“That would be most agreeable, Ms. Marshall.”
Savannah picks up her briefcase and lays it on the table. She snaps open the locks and lifts the lid, reaching inside for the cash to buy back her company from Wilde Industries. Closing the lid, she places the entire sum on the table in front of Ethan. One single dollar bill.
Ethan, smiling, picks it up and pops it in his pocket. “Thank you, Ms. Marshall. I’ll count it later.” He hands a pen to Savannah, who scrawls her signature on the contract.
“Is this some kind of fucking joke?” Harper laughs mirthlessly.
“Pipe down, Nick,” Savannah cautions, her tone heavy with irritation as if she’s just so done with his histrionics.
Harper bangs his fist on the table. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to!”
Every man in the room pauses to glare at him, but Savannah doesn’t even flinch. I feel her hand on my leg under the table, a gentle reminder to restrain myself, and then casually she passes the contract to Ethan who signs.
Savannah claps her hands together. “It’s official, then, gentleman. I’ll see you all bright and early in our meetings, as agreed, on Monday morning.” She dismisses the board. They congratulate her as they leave the room.
“Look, I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but I think you’re all forgetting one small issue. I still own a large share of this business.” Harper folds his arms smugly. “And I’ll be fucked if I’m taking orders from you,” he snarls at Savannah.
“Well, fortunately for you, you don’t have to … because you’re fired,” she retorts calmly.
Harper bursts out laughing. “You can’t fire me, I own twenty-five percent.” He leans across the table practically spitting the words at her.
His face is contorted with anger, and for the first time I truly see him as Savannah must have time and time again. On first meeting him, I thought him a relatively attractive man but, fuck, does anger make him ugly. I see Savannah recoil, but it’s only slight, a fleeting faltering moment before she shrugs on her armor once again. Like before, she reaches into her briefcase and throws a second contract on to the table followed by a pen.
“Not for long, sign this. I’ll save you the bother of reading it. It just states that you’re signing over your shares to me and that I will now be the sole owner of Marshall’s.”
“Not a fucking chance. I’ll rot in Hell first.”
“Well, if you don’t, that’s exactly what you’ll be doing.”
This time, she retrieves an envelope from the case and reaches in for the contents. One by one, she lays them down in front of him, each one a photograph of Savannah’s separate injuries. They were taken the day she woke up, and all are sickening.
Harper looks confounded as he gapes at them, and for a mere moment I see a glimpse of shame—but it’s only a glimpse.
“You can’t prove this was me.” His tone is hostile.
“That’s what I thought you’d say. So I took the precaution of obtaining these.” She lines up a set of statements in front of him. “A statement from Erin giving a detailed account of what she witnessed on the night I ended up looking like that. One from Helen. One from each of the previous board members, and finally, one from Eric Baldwin, the lovely man who drove us on the evening you met Mr. Wilde. Do you remember? He was also good enough to come pick me up on the night you almost killed me. The details of what he saw are all in his statement. The same for the others. So sign the contract, Nick, and when you’ve done that, you can sign these too.” She delivers her final blow, handing him two more separate documents. “The first is a contract signing over the house to me. That house is mine and I want you out. Tonight. The second is divorce papers. Sign them all, or I’ll make damn sure you’re rotting in a jail cell before the week is out, you sorry piece of shit.”
In a flying rage, he hauls himself across the table, grabbing at her arm and the front of her jacket. Enough is enough. I’m not risking my Sparrow. Not again. My fist drives through the air landing against his jaw with a crunch. The impact sends him soaring back over the table and landing in a heap on the floor. As I live and breathe, I have never wanted to damage someone as I do right now, but somehow I manage to rein in my anger. Striding around the table, I grip him by his collar and drag him to his feet.
“If you ever touch her again, I will end you!” I heave him back into his chair, straighten his tie, and slap him once hard across the face. “Now sign, fucker.”
Nick Harper glares from one to the other as he rubs his jaw, anger emanating from him so strong, you can smell it. “You’ve not heard the last of thi—”
I don’t give him a chance to finish, just one last slap across the back of his head before I pick up the pen and force it into his hand. He doesn’t hesitate this time but leans in to sign the documents. I check them and nod to Savannah, who makes her way across the room and opens the door. Two security guards stand side by side waiting for instruction.
“See to it that Mr. Harper is escorted from the premises without delay.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Harper snarls again before getting to his feet begrudgingly. “I’ll see you in court for this, Wilde.”
Ethan laughs. “Really?”
I’m close on his heels as he walks slowly to the door, his gaze fixed on Savannah. I want to be right there at hand if he lunges for her again. He’s about to walk past her when she holds out her hand.
“I believe your car is technically company property. Hand over the keys.”
He sticks hi
s face out toward her. “Kiss my—”
I dig him hard in the back, driving my knuckle into his spine. Seething, he removes the keys from his pocket and throws them on the floor.
“Keep walking, then.” Savannah waves her hand at the exit and just as he’s about to walk through, she adds, “Remember, Nick, I want you out of my house. Tonight.”
She shoves the door closed the second he’s through and turns to me, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face. Squealing, she launches herself into my arms and we’re laughing. Ethan joins us in a celebratory group hug, the three of us high-fiving and punching the air.
“I did it. I literally pulled it off.” Savannah is as euphoric as I’ve ever seen her.
Ethan grins. “You were on fire!”
“I never doubted you for a minute,” I say. “There isn’t anything you can’t do, Sparrow. Not a damn thing.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Savannah
IT SEEMS STRANGE TO BE back at the house after all these weeks. A house I’ve called home for so long, but realize now never was. Prison would be more accurate. I’m meeting the realtor, finally putting the place on the market, drawing a firm line under the past once and for all. While I’m here, I’m having the locks changed, so if Nick didn’t move out last night, it’s his bad because he won’t be getting in again. I’m a woman who sticks by my word these days.
After my triumph in the boardroom yesterday, I still feel six feet tall, despite being back in my sneakers. It’s a feeling I want to hold on to, so for that reason I want to spend as little time in this house as I can. I’m going to pack up the few things I want to keep and the rest will go to house clearance, including all the furniture. I don’t want to retain any part of my past that I shared with Nick.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” Jackson asks. “I’m not comfortable leaving you here. What if he comes back?”
“The realtor and the locksmith will be here any minute. If I’m left alone, I’ll put the deadbolt on, and I’ll have Eric come for me when I’m done.”
Eric, at Jackson’s insistence, is now officially on Wilde Industries’ payroll, my personal driver for wherever and whenever I need to travel alone. Eric was delighted with the offer, and Jackson’s mind is at rest whenever he isn’t able to drive me, so it’s win-win all round, I guess.
“I’d still rather come in with you.”
I smile and reach to graze my thumb over his stubbly chin. “You have to work. And I don’t want any part of my past to merge with my future. Seeing you in there—I don’t know—it just feels wrong.”
“I could stay in the kitchen. I’ve already been in there, remember?”
I’m not even sure I can go in the kitchen. The last memory I have of it is waking up on the floor in agony, my vision so distorted I didn’t know where I was at first. Jackson doesn’t know that, and I don’t want the mental picture forming in his head.
“I remember. I’ll compromise. You can see me to the door.”
He pouts. “Call me, then. I want frequent updates.” He takes my cell out of my hands and taps the screen a few times. “There. One tap of your cell and it will video call me. I’m right at the top of your recent calls. That way I can see that you’re alright too.”
Laughing, I release the door handle and climb out of the car. Jackson comes round to join me as I look up at the house. Suddenly, I hear a voice from behind.
“Yoo-hoo. Hi there. Savannah, isn’t it?”
Jackson and I exchange glances. “Is that your nosy neighbor?”
“I believe so.”
We turn as she joins us on the sidewalk.
“I’m Rosemary Draper from across the—”
“I know who you are, Mrs. Draper. A good friend of my ex-husband’s from all accounts.”
“Ex-husband?”
“Almost.”
“Oh dear. I did wonder. He told me you left him, but I think he was hoping you’d return when you got better. Asked me to keep an eye out for you. I was just thinking what bad luck, you coming home today and him having left just last night. I saw him packing the car up and then he just took off. I know you struggle with your illness, my dear, but it would be such a shame if things didn’t work out for the two of you. He’s been devastated since you upped and left.”
“Mrs. Draper, what reason did he give you for me leaving him? And what illness are you talking about?”
“Your psychosis, my dear. Bipolar, isn’t it? I had an aunt who suffered, you see, so I can sympathize with your husband. Oh, and you, of course.” I see Jackson bristle beside me as he reaches for his phone. “He said this was a particularly bad episode and that you might be gone for some time. Only I was worried about what to do with the little one.”
Jackson holds his phone out, practically pushing it into her face. “This is why Savannah left him, Mrs. Draper.”
I know the photo he’s showing her is one taken the day after the last attack. I’m still unconscious, so the image is even more disturbing; tubes and machines will do that. Mrs. Draper’s hand flutters to her mouth as it falls open in shock.
“Oh … oh my goodness.”
“Savannah doesn’t suffer from bipolar or any other kind of disorder. She’s a survivor of domestic abuse, Mrs. Draper. Controlled and beaten by her husband in a brutal, loveless marriage. And when you reported back to him, you were enabling that abuse—”
“That’s enough, Jackson.” He’s angry, I get that. But I can see from the look on her face that she had no clue what she was enabling. Nick was a manipulator. I know this more than anyone. What she’s telling me doesn’t surprise me at all.
“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. He asked me to keep an eye out, keep a note of your comings and goings so that he wouldn’t worry when he wasn’t here. I felt sorry for him. You looked so much better recently, after your spell in hospital. That was when I took in the little one. Mr. Harper was afraid you’d try to hurt her, he said.”
She’s clearly very confused. “Hurt who? What little one are you talking about?”
“Your cat. Little Shadow. She’s missed you terribly. Keeps scraping at the door to come home.”
“What?” My mind can’t process. I look from her to Jackson, hoping he might know what to make of what she’s saying, but he looks just as confused. “Mrs. Draper … are you saying you have my cat?”
“Why yes, dear.”
“But she’s dead. Nick killed her and buried her in the yard.”
Bewildered, she shakes her head and points across the street to her apartment. “She’s just had her afternoon snack. She’ll be delighted to see you.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Savannah
I CAN’T BELIEVE IT. MY Shadow is alive and well, and Mrs. Draper was right. She is thrilled to see me. I’ve never heard her purr so loud. Reluctantly, though, I have to tear myself away from her and leave her with Mrs. Draper for a short time longer, vowing to return and collect her when I’m ready to leave for the day. The realtor and the man to change the locks have arrived, so, wiping away my tears of joy, I give her one last cuddle and go back across the street to meet them.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Jackson asks, climbing into the car.
“I’m certain. I’ll be even quicker now I know Shadow is waiting for me. Are you sure it’s okay for her to come and live at the apartment?”
“Of course. She’s a part of you, and it’s your home, so it’s hers too.” He kisses me through the open window. “I’m so happy you have her back. I’ll see you this evening.”
I wave him off and then turn my attention back to the house. I leave the locksmith to his job while I speak to the realtor, and then while she’s taking her measurements and pictures, I go off to pack a few boxes. I split my clothes into separate bags, one lot to keep and the other—anything Nick picked out for me—for the thrift store. Next, I go through my drawers, packing items from my childhood, little mementoes from Mom and Dad, and any bits
of jewelry I want to keep, the rest I put out for the garbage. In between, I check in with Jackson, making video calls as promised and updating him with my progress. The locksmith and realtor leave, so I deadbolt the door behind them while I take care of the last few things before I go across the street for Shadow and call Eric. I make a list of things I want to come back for—my books and boxes of stuff from Mom and Dad’s house that are down in the basement, and then I put Post-its on everything, labeling items of furniture to be sold and things to be collected.
With the job complete, I feel satisfied and excited about collecting Shadow from Mrs. Draper’s. I’ve promised I’ll have a cup of tea with her—despite her erroneous fondness for Nick, I realize it’s not really her fault, and she has been kindly taking care of my cat—so I decide to call Eric while I’m there and when he arrives, I’ll have the excuse to say my goodbyes. I text Jackson quickly to let him know my plans.
When I open the door a cold wind blows in and it’s begun to rain a little, so I dash upstairs and grab the first thing I come to in the clothes bag marked to keep. It’s one of the hooded zip tops I wear for working out. A bit tatty, but it’s one of my favorites and it will keep the rain off. Pulling it on, I tuck my hands in my pockets to huddle into it and feel the sharp edge of a piece of card. Instantly, I’m reminded of Annie and the time I first met her when I last wore the jacket. Every time she visits the apartment now, we end up sitting and talking for hours. She’s become the dearest friend. I can hear her voice now, her strong New York accent, “Tell me all about your asshole.” Smiling, I turn to make for the stairs.
What I’m faced with stops me dead in my tracks.
Nick looks as menacing as I’ve ever seen him, standing there in the doorway of my bedroom, and I feel my blood run cold as ice.
“Well, look what we have here,” he sneers.
“What do you want, Nick?”
“What do I want?” He spits the words with exaggerated aggression, spittle flying from his mouth. “You’ve taken everything from me, you cunt. I’ve looked after you for all these years, my parents took you in when you had no one, and you repay me like this.”