Embrace Me Forever (Hartley Brothers #3)

37. Georgia-May

37

GEORGIA-MAY

As expected, Abner Bertram vehemently denied any involvement in my abduction and the attack on Blake and Coco. However, the groundwork we had laid prior to my capture, aimed at exposing his illicit activities, quickly bore fruit. It wasn’t long before the international courts empowered the authorities to commence a formal investigation.

The breakthrough came shortly thereafter. Despite Bertram’s minions having obliterated physical evidence at Maravino Point, where I was held, they overlooked one critical mistake—Bertram’s live appearance on screen. His visage, that disdainful sneer as he coerced me to work, became a pivotal piece of evidence. In a final sweep, law enforcement discovered a discreet satellite connector hidden atop a stack of empty containers at the dock. It’s pretty advanced stuff, using a ground-penetrating Wi-Fi signal. Once analyzed, this device directly links back to one of Bertram’s opulent residences in London.

With the mounting evidence, Bertram’s empire began to crumble, halting all operations. Meanwhile, the Greek Prince, Clayton’s infamous BFF—basketball friend forever—has been pulling strings behind the scenes to form a consortium of insurance companies. These firms are now banding together to assist Bertram’s clientele. This collective effort is setting the stage for a support system to mitigate the fallout from Bertram’s demise.

Our bodyguard, Lowe, is still recuperating from stab wounds, though doctors are optimistic about a full recovery. He was ambushed from behind by Hark, disguised as an orderly innocently coming out of the men’s room. It’s astonishing how a simple disguise in a place as unassuming as a hospital can deceive even seasoned professionals.

While I got away with a bruised rib, thanks to Hark’s brass knuckles, Blake’s injury on his shoulder required two surgeries. Today, he’s finally being discharged. I choose to wear the blue dress I never got to buy that day, thanks to Cristo’s unexpected visit. Around my neck, the gold chain with the infinity pendant dangles, a token I thought was lost forever in the chaos of that dark basement with Hark.

“Here comes my stylish chauffeur,” Blake grins with a wink as he greets me. “You look stunning, sweetheart.”

“Daddy!” Coco exclaims, scrambling up to reach him. She’s finally mastered his name, though to be honest, Blake never really minded when she called him ‘Black.’ But these days, Coco always calls him daddy, which sends him over the moon.

Blake insists on lifting Coco, even though his left shoulder remains snugly bound in a heavy bandage.

“Hurt?” Coco’s small finger points at the bandage. She’s stringing together short sentences now, though she sometimes falls back on simpler, familiar phrases.

“A bit, sweetie, but I’m fine,” Blake reassures her, masking the discomfort with a smile.

As I steer the car through the quiet streets toward our home, a serene calm fills the space between us. However, my mind buzzes quietly with a singular resolve. To make Blake’s recovery as smooth and pampering as it can be.

After arriving home, I quickly gather the mail scattered in our mailbox. Among the assorted envelopes, one letter catches my eye. It’s the color, the texture. It takes me back to the days of faking my contract with Obsidian Moon Interactive, a deceit that once prompted a letter from a ‘Christian Cartwright.’ I slip it into my bag discreetly, deciding to deal with it later. Right now, Blake needs me.

In the bedroom, I help him settle comfortably on the bed, knowing well how the bustling environment of the hospital robbed him of proper rest.

I start with a light massage.

“You know, you’re a better masseuse than I am,” he murmurs appreciatively as I work his neck.

I lean down and kiss him softly. “Don’t get too used to it. I’m not running a spa here,” I jibe. But deep down, I know I’d do anything to make him feel better, pampering or not.

As Blake settles into a deep, healing sleep and Coco plays with Poppy on the mat in front of me, I take the opportunity to open the letter I discreetly tucked away earlier. The typeface and setup are familiar. Even before reading, I know it’s from Cristo. I unfold the paper with a mix of anticipation and resignation.

Dear Georgia-May,

I trust this note finds you thriving, even after all that’s come to pass. I’ve been keeping a respectful distance, but I wanted to reach out just this once.

I must tell you, I am genuinely proud of you. Sebastian wasn’t wrong when he told me that you were a veritable force of nature—and he wasn’t talking about StarCraft or Halo . In your fight, you’ve truly honored his memory.

As for me, I’ve decided it’s time for a new chapter, far away from any old aliases or haunts. Christian Cartwright will be no more. I’m off to seek new horizons, where no tracks, digital or otherwise, can follow.

Before I go, there’s something you should know. The Thames Valley Police stumbled across some remains near the old cottage in Chiltern Hills. I leave what you do with that information to your discretion.

All my life, hellos and goodbyes were never necessary. So I leave you with these words: Live fully, never look back unless it brings a smile. And take care of Coco and your man.

Yours,

Cristo

Time seems to stretch and bend as I sit, absorbed in thought, while Coco plays with the robot dog, full of laughter. I’m so lost in watching her that I hardly notice Blake’s approach until he’s right beside me.

He sits down, his hand reaching out to caress my back, soothing without needing to ask why my face is etched with sadness.

“It’s from Cristo,” I finally say, handing him the letter.

He skims it, his eyes scanning the words that have weighed so heavily on me. After a moment, he wraps an arm around me, his embrace firm and supportive. “What are you going to do?” he asks, his voice a soft rumble of solidarity.

“I need to go there. I need closure,” I admit, the weight of the words seeming to lift some of the burden from my shoulders.

“I’m with you, Georgia-May,” Blake responds, his voice soft and resolute. He leans in to kiss my forehead tenderly. “We’ll go there as a family.” His eyes linger on Coco, her voice forming a sweet soundtrack to our somber conversation.

“Yeah, we could bring Anne with us. She could look after Coco while we sort out everything with the Thames Valley Police,” I suggest, still unable to utter the words ‘Sebastian’s remains.’

Blake stays silent, his quiet infused with empathy and accord, while his hand rests on my shoulder. In his eyes, I find an unspoken promise. He will stand by me through breakdowns or breakthroughs. This journey might dredge up the past involving another love, but the bond Blake and I share is rooted deeper than an age-old oak tree, transcending what once was.

I was blessed to have had a man like Sebastian. Now, to have Blake, who’s willing to go through hell and back, staying by my side as my past is unearthed and my future begins, is a miracle.