Chapter 29 Savannah
SAVANNAH
When I wake up, the bruises on my wrist have turned purple. They look worse today than they did yesterday, dark and angry against my skin.
Ledger is already awake, standing at the windows in his suit, coffee in hand.
“Morning,” I say.
He turns and crosses the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. “How’s your wrist?”
“Sore. But fine.”
He takes my hand and pushes up my sleeve, examining the bruises. His jaw tightens. “I should have killed him.”
“Silas said you’re watching him. Using him to find whoever’s backing him.”
“I know what Silas said. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He releases my hand gently. “I have meetings all day. Stay inside. Don’t go anywhere without telling me first.”
“Ledger, I can’t just stay locked up in here forever.”
“Not forever. Just until we figure out what’s happening with Mason and the Kozlovs.”
“That could take weeks.”
“Then it takes weeks.” He stands and adjusts his tie. “I need to know you’re safe. That’s not negotiable.”
I throw the covers off and stand. “I’m not a prisoner, Ledger. I’m your wife.”
“Which is exactly why you need to stay safe. You’re not just yourself anymore. You’re carrying our child. That makes you a target.”
“I’ve been a target since the day I married you.”
“And now they know you’re pregnant. That changes everything.” He moves closer, his voice softer. “Savannah, please. I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to protect you.”
“It feels the same.”
“I know. I know it does. But I can’t lose you. I can’t lose either of you.” His hand covers mine on my stomach. “Just give me time to handle this. Please.”
“Okay,” I say quietly. “I’ll stay inside today.”
“Thank you.” He kisses me. “I’ll be home by six.”
After he leaves, I sit on the couch and stare at the city below. The penthouse is beautiful. Spacious. Everything I could want.
But it feels like a cage.
It’s been two days since Mason attacked me. Dr. Williams moves the ultrasound wand across my stomach. “Everything looks good. Baby’s measuring right on track. Heartbeat is strong.”
I watch the screen. Twenty-two weeks. Halfway there.
“How are you feeling? Any concerns?”
“Tired. Stressed.”
“That’s normal. But try to minimize stress where you can. It’s not good for you or the baby.”
Ledger squeezes my hand from beside me. “We’re working on that.”
I’m working in Ledger’s home office the next morning when my phone rings with a number I don’t recognize.
I almost don’t answer. But curiosity makes me pick up. “Hello?”
“Savannah.” Mason’s voice is rough. “Please don’t hang up.”
“How did you get this number?”
“I just need five minutes. Please. Just five minutes, and I’ll never bother you again.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Then just listen.” His voice breaks. “I haven’t slept in three days. Can’t eat. Can’t focus on anything except the fact that I destroyed the best thing in my life.”
“You did. And now you have to live with it.”
“I keep replaying that day. Seeing your face when you walked in. The way you looked at me.” He’s crying now. “I need to understand why. Why you chose him over me. Why you married a stranger instead of giving me another chance.”
“You killed whatever I felt for you. That’s why.”
“But we had two years together. Two years of history and—”
“And you threw it away for three months with my best friend.”
“I know. God, I know. And I hate myself for it.” He takes a shaky breath. “I’ve been having these thoughts. Dark thoughts. About ending it. Because what’s the point of living if I destroyed everything?”
My stomach twists. “Mason, if you’re having suicidal thoughts, you need to talk to someone, a professional, not me.”
“I don’t need a professional. I need closure. I need to understand so I can move on.” His desperation bleeds through the phone. “Please. Just meet me once. Let me say what I need to say, and then I’ll leave you alone forever. I swear.”
“I can’t meet you.”
“One hour. At a restaurant. Public place. Busy. Safe. Just so we can talk and end this properly.”
“Ledger would never allow it.”
“Then don’t tell him. Just you and me, one last conversation, and then I’m gone from your life.”
I want to say no, but there’s something in Mason’s voice that tugs at old guilt.
My mother liked him. We had two years together. I did love him once.
And maybe if I give him this closure, he’ll finally stop.
“Where?” I hear myself ask.
“Marelli’s. It’s busy, lots of people. You’ll be safe.” He sounds desperate, hopeful. “Tomorrow. Lunch. Please, Savannah.”
“Thirty minutes,” I say. “And then you leave me alone. Forever.”
“Yes. I promise. Thank you.”
I hang up before he can say anything else.
My hands are shaking. What did I just agree to?
The next day, I wait until the guard rotation changes at noon. Pedro is off duty, replaced by Marcus and another guard I don’t know well. They’re less strict, less familiar with Ledger’s specific instructions.
I tell Alexi I’m going shopping for nursery furniture.
“Want me to come with you?” he asks.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll just be a couple of hours.”
“Dad know you’re going out?”
“He’s in meetings all day. I’ll text him.”
Once I hear Ledger on a phone call, I grab my purse and slip out through the service entrance that the cleaning staff uses. The guards are stationed at the main elevator and front door—nobody’s watching the back stairs.
I take the stairs down three flights to the parking garage, then call a car service from there. By the time anyone realizes I’m gone, I’ll already be at the restaurant and back.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
The restaurant is busy when I arrive—families, business lunches, tourists. Safe.
Mason is already there in a booth near the back. He looks terrible. Thinner, clothes hanging loose, face gaunt. He’s lost at least fifteen pounds.
He stands when he sees me. “Savannah. Thank you for coming.”
“Thirty minutes. That’s it.”
“That’s all I need.” He gestures to the booth. “Please.”
I slide in across from him, keeping my purse close. A waitress appears.
“Water for me,” I say.
“Same,” Mason adds.
We sit in awkward silence. His wrist is in a cast.
“How’s your wrist?” I ask.
“Healing. Your stepson has a mean right hook.” He looks at the cast. “But I deserved it.”
“You did.”
“Savannah, I need to tell you something. About that day. About how everything really happened with Lizzy.” He leans forward. “Because you deserve to know the truth.”
“I already know the truth. You cheated on me for three months, and it wasn’t the first time you did it.”
“But you don’t know how it started. How it really went down.” He takes a drink of water, his hands shaking slightly. “It wasn’t what you thought. I didn’t just decide one day to betray you.”
“Then what was it?”
“It was right after your mom’s funeral. You remember that week? How bad it was?”
I don’t want to remember. Those days are a blur of grief and pain I’ve tried to forget.
“You were in bed for days,” he continues. “Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t talk. I tried everything to help you, but you shut me out completely. And I get it—you were grieving. But I felt useless. Like I couldn’t do anything right.”
“So you slept with my best friend.”
“No. Not right away.” He shakes his head. “Lizzy came over that first week. Brought food, tried to get you to eat. You wouldn’t even look at her. So she sat with me in the living room while you stayed locked in the bedroom.”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
“You need to hear it. Because what happened wasn’t just my fault.
” He meets my eyes. “Lizzy told me she understood what I was going through. That watching someone you love fall apart is its own kind of hell. And for the first time in weeks, someone was actually seeing me. Not just focusing on you and your pain.”
“Are you seriously blaming me for your affair?”
“I’m not blaming you. I’m explaining how it started, how one conversation led to another. How she started coming over more often, always when you were asleep or too out of it to notice.”
The waitress returns. “Ready to order?”
“Just water,” I say. “We won’t be long.”
She leaves, and Mason continues as if he wasn’t interrupted.
“It went on like that for two weeks. Her coming over, us talking, me feeling less alone. And then one night—it was about three weeks after the funeral—you were having one of your really bad nights. Crying, wouldn’t let me touch you, told me to leave you alone.”
“Because I was grieving my mother.”
“I know. But in the moment, it felt like you were pushing me away permanently. Like you didn’t need me anymore.” He runs his hand through his hair. “So I went to the living room. Had some whiskey. And Lizzy texted asking if you were okay. I told her to come over.”
“And you slept with her.”
“Not that night. That night we just talked. Drank. She told me about her own problems—some guy who’d ghosted her, her job stress. Normal stuff that felt like a relief after weeks of only focusing on death and grief.”
“This isn’t making it better, Mason.”
“I’m getting there.” He leans back. “She kissed me that night. Just once, when she was leaving, and I should have stopped it and told her it was wrong. But I didn’t. I kissed her back.”
My stomach turns. Hearing the details makes it worse, not better.
“After that, it was like a dam broke. She’d come over during my lunch breaks when you were sleeping. We’d meet at her apartment when you thought I was working late. It was easy. Too easy.”
“Three months of easy.”
“Yeah. Three months of me being a coward and a cheat.” He looks down at his hands.
“And the worst part? Lizzy wasn’t even pretending to feel guilty.
She’d talk about you right after we’d—” He stops himself.
“She’d say things like ‘Savannah will never know’ or ‘She’s too wrapped up in her grief to notice.
’ Like you were this obstacle instead of her best friend. ”
“She wasn’t my best friend. Neither were you.”
“I know that now. But at the time, I convinced myself I was helping you. That by having an outlet for my own stress, I could be more patient with your grief. How fucked up is that?”
“Very.”
“I’ve regretted it every single day since.” He looks at me with red-rimmed eyes. “These past few months have been hell, Savannah. I don’t have a job.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“I know it’s not. But I need you to understand what my life has been like. I’ve been couch-surfing at my cousin’s place. He’s got three roommates in a two-bedroom apartment. I sleep on the floor most nights.”
“You made your choices.”
“I did. And I’m paying for them.” He takes another drink. “I can’t afford my car payment, so they repossessed it last week. Had to take the bus here. The bus, Savannah. At thirty-two years old, I’m taking the bus because I destroyed my entire life.”
Part of me wants to feel sorry for him. But mostly I just feel tired.
My phone buzzes on the table. Ledger’s name flashes on the screen.
I decline the call.
Mason notices, and a strange smile crosses his face. “He keeps tabs on you, doesn’t he?”
“This conversation is over.” I reach for my purse, ready to leave.