Chapter 31 #2
“Oh my God,” Dani hisses. “I think that was her.”
“Who?” I ask, a shiver racing up my spine.
“The woman who took me last year. Her eyes … they were so dark and cold. I would never forget them. And the way she walked … I think that was her.”
“What’s wrong?” Matteo asks, immediately noticing Dani’s distress.
“That woman,” Dani whispers, staring into the distance since said woman has already disappeared into the crowd, “the one who gave Kane her card—I think it’s her.”
While Matteo calls someone, barking orders to find the woman in question, I reach into Kane’s pocket and pull the card out, gasping when I see what’s written on it.
Leysa Santiago
It’s not too late to change your mind.
“What were Carlos’s daughters’ names?” I ask Kane.
He glances down at me, his brows furrowing in confusion.
“His daughters. You said one was killed in an accident and the other was in school,” I prompt, referring to the conversation we had one night during dinner when he told me what my brothers found out about the Santiago family when Matteo sent one of his men to find out info on them.
“Leysa and Laura,” Matteo answers, despite being on the phone.
“It was her.” I hand Matteo the card, and he curses under his breath. “And I don’t think she died in that accident after all.”
Since we don’t want to draw attention, Dominick walks over and insists everyone act normal and stay together. So, as a family, we make our way into the banquet hall, where a five-course dinner is being served.
While the first and second courses are brought out, several people speak about the organization and the good it’s accomplished. And then, before the third course is brought out, Kane is called to the podium.
“While Morgan Enterprises has graciously donated five million dollars to the cause, Mr. Morgan has matched the company’s donation himself. Kane, please come on up, so we can thank you.”
He gives my hand a quick squeeze and then walks up to the podium, shaking the gentleman’s hand.
“There are many charities worthy of our donations, and Morgan Enterprises takes great pride in being able to donate and make a difference where we can,” Kane begins.
“But this cause has recently become personal to me.” His eyes briefly meet mine as his words wrap around my heart like a heated blanket, warming it up and melting the ice from it.
“Someone close to me went through something life-changing. She’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever known, but her journey hasn’t been easy, and my hope is that the donations we’ve given will help others like her heal. ”
He smiles at the audience, but it’s sad, reminding me of the way he’s been looking at me recently.
“It wasn’t until I did my research that I learned nearly five hundred million people a year are sexually assaulted in the US.
One in three women and one in six men experience sexual violence during their lifetime.
So, I encourage you to open your hearts and wallets to give to an organization that needs your help. ”
He shakes the gentleman’s hand again and then steps down, walking back over to me. He leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth, and there’s so much I want to say, but I’m too choked up to speak.
During the rest of the meal, other donors are recognized for their donations. And after dessert is served, everyone is encouraged to head outside for the fireworks display.
They announce that over fifty million dollars has been raised tonight, and then the fireworks start. I’m surprised when Kane steps up, enveloping me from behind, but rather than question it, I lean back against him and soak up the comfort he provides.
The first firework goes off and then another, and I’m so lost in the beautiful display in front of me that I don’t realize when the sound of the fireworks morphs into something else.
“Get down!” Kane yells, not missing a beat.
He gently guides me onto the ground as explosives erupt around us.
People scream and cry out of shock and fear, but Kane stays calm, shielding me from the sparks flying every which way.
It feels like it goes on forever, and my heart not only aches for those who are hit in the cross fire, but for the charity function that has now been tainted.
Eventually, the fireworks, as well as the explosions, go silent.
“Don’t move,” Kane murmurs, leaving me on the ground while he assesses the situation.
“Sir, Dominick said all is clear,” Giani tells him.
“All right, let’s get you into the limo,” Kane says, helping me onto my feet.
He wraps his arms around me protectively and guides me to the limo with Giani and Kiril flanking us.
“I hate that fucking bitch,” I hiss, pissed that she ruined such an important cause just to send yet another message. “When my brothers find her, I hope they string her up like a hog and torture her.”
“She’s getting desperate,” Kane says, holding me close.
“The mayor said she donated to his campaign with the agreement that he’d force your family out of Harbor Point, not realizing that he didn’t have the means to do so.
So, now she’s pissed and lashing out. I don’t want you taking any unnecessary risks. ”
He leans in and kisses my collarbone, and I tilt my head to the side to give him easier access, craving his touch, but rather than taking the hint, he pulls back and takes another piece of my heart right along with him.
“Kane,” I choke out, unable to handle another moment of his distance, “when we get home—”
His phone rings, cutting me off, and I sigh in annoyance, wanting to talk to him about what’s going on with him. Not too long ago, he said he didn’t want any walls between us. What’s changed since then?
“Yeah,” Kane says to whoever is on the other end. “Okay, let me drop Brielle off and make sure she’s safe, and then I’ll meet you there.”
“You’re leaving?” I ask once he hangs up, the hurt in my tone evident.
“Eddy found footage of the guy who had dug up my father’s grave and linked him back to Carlos Santiago. Matteo’s men found him, and they’re holding him at the warehouse.”
Since I know this is life or death, I simply nod in understanding.
“What were you saying before?” he asks.
“Nothing. It can wait until you get home.”
After Kane ensures I’m inside and the guards are in place, he takes off, leaving me to shower alone. I’ve just taken off my dress when my phone rings with a number I don’t recognize.
“I’m looking for Brielle Antonov-Morgan,” the person says on the other line.
“This is she.”
“This is Timothy Reynolds. I own the plaza where your studio is located.”
“Oh, yes! How can I help you?”
“A vandalism has been reported at your place of business, and we need you to come down to speak to the officer.”
“What?” I gasp. “Someone vandalized my studio? Why didn’t the alarm go off?”
“Yes, ma’am. Unfortunately, the alarm was down, and we’re trying to pull up the footage, but the software is a bit outdated, so we’re not sure who is responsible yet, but the police are investigating it.
I suggest bringing any insurance paperwork you have so it can be attached to the statement, and then you can start the process of filing a claim in the morning. The damage looks to be pretty bad.”
“Okay, thanks,” I choke out, feeling like the hits keep coming.
First Kane pushing me away.
Then the gala being ruined.
Now my studio, which was in the process of being renovated, has been destroyed. Not only will it set the timeline back, but I hate that I’m being sucked into my brothers’ bullshit. I have nothing to do with their business, yet I’m being dragged into it anyway.
Not bothering to remove my makeup, I throw on a pair of shorts and shirt and then go in search of the insurance documents.
Since Kane was the one who helped me acquire it, he has a folder with all the paperwork.
He told me he’d make me copies for my own records, but he hasn’t gotten around to it yet.
I look through the folders on his desk, but none of them are it. I consider calling him, but he’s probably at the warehouse by now, and I don’t want to disturb him. The studio is my baby, and I need to handle it.
I open his side drawer since I’ve seen him put folders in there and flip through them. I’m about to close it when the label on one of the folders catches my attention—Divorce Papers.
My heart drops.
Has Kane been married before? He told me he had no desire to get married until he met me, so that doesn’t make any sense.
I pull the file out and set it on the desk when something else catches my eye—a pharmacy bag. I open it, and my heart stops when I see what’s inside. Birth control pills.
The same ones I use.
The same ones I took and still ended up pregnant.
Oh God.
I pull the bag out to deal with it later, then open the file. It’s a petition for dissolution of marriage. My eyes descend to the names—Kane Morgan and Brielle Antonov-Morgan.
My stomach roils, and since there’s no way I’m going to make it to the bathroom, I lean over the garbage can next to Kane’s desk and throw up everything I ate and drank this evening.
He wants a divorce.
After everything he went through to force me into this marriage. After spending months trying to convince me that he actually cared about me. He wants a divorce.
I look at the date on the paperwork and find it’s a few days after he found out I was raped and forced to have an abortion.
“… you’re now damaged goods.”
A single tear slides down my cheek as my father’s words play on repeat in my head.
I’m pregnant with Kane’s baby.
And from the pharmacy bag, my guess is, I’m pregnant because he fucked with my birth control.
Against my better judgment, I let him in.
I fell in love with him.
And now he no longer wants me because I’m damaged goods.
“Meow.”
I glance down at Molly circling my feet, and I pick her up, holding her close to my chest.
“C’mon, pretty girl,” I say through a sob. “We need to pack.”