Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Natalie
Damn first trimester. Even caffeine was off-limits.
I sat by the window at Cloudtop, sipping sparkling water in small gulps.
Across from me, Andrew was going on about some disaster at his new band's rehearsal, his blond hair glinting in the sunlight, his smile bright enough for a toothpaste commercial.
"So at rehearsal that day, our drummer Mike showed up with his new baby—this electronic drum kit that cost enough to buy half my car.
" Andrew rolled his eyes, his fingers mimicking drum strikes on the table.
"This genius spent a whole hour trying to find the perfect snare sound, twisting knobs on his effects processor like he was defusing a bomb.
Finally, our lead singer lost it and yelled, 'Mike!
Your snare sounds like a duck with a cold stepping on a plastic keyboard!
We're supposed to be doing pop rock, not experimental noise! '"
I pictured the scene and couldn't help laughing.
Andrew always did this—used these carefree jokes to pull me out of my misery, at least for a little while.
"Thanks, Andrew." I set down my glass, genuinely grateful. "Not just for lunch, but for... that night too. You're a good friend."
Andrew's smile faded slightly. He leaned forward, elbows on the white tablecloth.
"Natalie, seriously, are you okay? That guy.
.." He paused, his tone tinged with disbelief.
"I looked him up after. Jesus, the Winston Group heir?
He's the kind of guy who could buy half of Nevada. And you're his wife?"
"Was." I corrected him. "Richard and I are divorced. There's nothing between us anymore."
Even as I said it, guilt gnawed at me. The truth was, Richard and I had been sleeping together more and more lately. God, every time Richard kissed me, we couldn't stop.
Andrew studied me for a few seconds, those usually laughing eyes sharp now.
"The story doesn't look finished. At least he doesn't think so.
The way he looked at you that night..." He seemed to shudder.
"Like a beast guarding its prey... Natalie, if he's harassing you, pressuring you with his money and power.
.. You know you can tell me. I'm no big shot, but I know people and have some connections.
At least if you need it, I can be a decent witness, or.
.. help you find a solid lawyer. Probably can't compete with his legal dream team, but still. "
Andrew's words warmed my heart, then flooded it with bitterness.
I thought I'd sealed my heart up tight, but these past days—Richard's protection, his concern, the way he'd shielded me at the press conference without hesitation... Those moments were like tiny nails, prying open the shell I'd built around myself.
God, I was hopeless.
He'd hurt me so badly. I'd sworn to escape completely. But the moment he showed me the slightest kindness, I started wavering again, started foolishly hoping.
"Thanks, Andrew." I smiled at him, my fingers absently spinning the water glass. "But I think I can handle things with Richard myself."
I paused. A familiar tightness in my lower abdomen reminded me of the little life I needed to protect.
"I have more important things to worry about now. Anyway, how's your work going? That music festival you mentioned—any luck?"
I changed the subject clumsily. Andrew was smart enough not to press, segueing into talk about work, about a local producer who wanted his band to score a film but with a budget squeezed tighter than water from a desert stone.
We chatted idly, the restaurant's soft jazz flowing around us, the aroma of food filling the air.
For a moment, I almost believed life could be this simple—lunch with a friend, work talk, griping about unreliable partners, then going home separately, without Richard's psychotic need for control.
But like every cliché script, just as I looked up to order another lemon water, I saw him.
Richard.
He was walking in from the restaurant entrance, wearing a dark blue suit. I knew Richard's wardrobe habits—he only wore that color for formal, important occasions. Probably meeting some business partner. Richard was always busy, everywhere he went.
I was about to look away when Olivia entered my field of vision.
She wore a champagne-colored dress, standing beside Richard, looking perfectly matched.
Richard had his back to me, but Olivia's smile was radiant. Clearly, they were discussing something pleasant.
In an instant, all the blood in my body seemed to freeze, then rush to my head. My fingers jerked, knocking over my water glass. Ice-cold sparkling water and lemon slices splashed across my arm and the tablecloth. A waiter rushed over, apologizing. Andrew jumped too, pulling out napkins for me.
"Natalie? You okay?" Andrew asked with concern, following my momentarily frozen gaze, but someone walking past blocked his view. He saw nothing.
"I'm fine." I took the napkin, wiping my arm clumsily, but my eyes kept drifting toward the other side of the restaurant.
I watched Olivia reach out, seeming to adjust his sleeve, though it didn't need adjusting. Richard didn't pull away. He even tilted his head slightly, listening to her. Then Olivia stood on tiptoe, leaning close to his ear, and Richard lowered his head.
God.
They were kissing.
All sound vanished in that instant. My ears rang. My heart felt like someone had squeezed it tight, the pain stealing my breath.
So Richard's interest in me was just possessiveness?
He simply wasn't used to something that once belonged to him slipping from his control, so he'd chased me to Las Vegas, fooled around with me, tried to drag me back.
He just saw me as a pastime, a diversion mixing physical needs with ownership confirmation.
And Olivia, the woman he'd always considered perfect for him, had perhaps never really left his options. Otherwise, why would Richard still be making dates with Olivia while toying with me? Even kissing her.
I was a complete fool.
I'd actually believed—after Richard barged into my life so aggressively, controlling everything—that just because he showed up at the press conference, because of those warm embraces these past days, that Richard cared about me.
How laughable. Reality slapped me senseless.
"Natalie?" Andrew's voice pulled me back.
"I'm sorry, Andrew." I stood, my voice trembling uncontrollably. "I'm suddenly not feeling well. I need to go. I'll get the bill. I'll take you to dinner again to make it up."
I had to leave.
I couldn't stay in this space another second. Every breath seemed contaminated with Olivia's perfume and Richard's scent, suffocating me.
I fumbled for my bag, nearly fell when I stood—my legs gave out—but Andrew caught me.
I practically ran out of the restaurant.
Cold wind hit my face, stinging, but it cleared my head slightly.
I could finally breathe, but then came more violent trembling and cold. I bit my lip hard, refusing to let those damn tears fall.
Back at the apartment, I opened the door and immediately saw Richard's slippers by the entrance, his coat on the sofa, groceries he'd bought on the kitchen counter, the water glass he'd used on the nightstand...
Richard's traces everywhere. I took a deep breath. My eyes welled up. The tears finally fell. I had to throw all this out. I wouldn't let Richard affect me anymore. Wouldn't hurt for him anymore. Wouldn't harbor any unrealistic fantasies about him.
I started frantically cleaning, stuffing all of Richard's things into a huge black garbage bag. I even sprayed disinfectant on the sofa where he'd sat, as if that could erase every trace of his existence.
Just as I threw the last item in the bag, the doorbell rang.
Emma. She held a garment bag, looking excited.
"Babe! Ready? Tonight's Starlight Charity Gala is your first official appearance since your identity reveal!
I picked you a killer dress, it'll absolutely.
.." She stopped mid-sentence, staring at the wrecked living room and me crouched by the trash, eyes red, clutching a men's shirt.
"Oh my God, Natalie, did you break up with Mr. Winston?" Emma came in, carefully setting the garment bag on a clean dining chair, looking around.
Break up? Richard and I were never together.
"Cleaning out trash." I stood, shoving the shirt deep into the already-full garbage bag.
Emma watched me silently for a few seconds, then sighed and put her arm around my shoulders.
"Listen, honey, I don't know what happened with you and Mr. Winston, but.
.." She lowered her voice. "Think about it.
The Winston family—what kind of elite dynasty is that?
You know how many women, no, how many families are dying to connect with Mr. Winston?
And now he's..." Emma glanced at my expression, choosing her words carefully.
"So attentive to you, handled all your problems, providing protection.
.. It's like winning the lottery! I know he's maybe a little controlling?
But God, I swear, for rich people, control is practically a virtue.
Natalie, think about it—with him, you and your baby would never worry about anything for the rest of your lives. "
"My child's father cannot be a man with a messy personal life!" I pulled away from her, my voice shaking. "Richard is a complete bastard who played me like a fool! A man like that could never be a good father!"
Emma flinched at my outburst. Then her expression turned complicated as she looked me up and down, her gaze settling on my abdomen. "Natalie, this baby, is it..." She didn't finish, but the meaning was clear.
I jumped back like I'd been burned, my heart pounding. "That's none of your business, Emma. From today on, I don't want you mentioning anything about Richard. Things between us are completely over."
Emma opened her mouth to say something, but seeing my resolve, swallowed her words and just shook her head helplessly.
"Fine, fine, you're the boss. Go wash your face.
We need to do hair and makeup. Let's run through the schedule again, too.
Sweetheart, I have a feeling you're about to become a superstar. "
The joke didn't improve my mood. I forced a smile and walked into the bathroom to shower. Just as I set my phone on the sink, a new message came through.
Richard: "I have a last-minute meeting tonight. I'll be back late. Don't wait for me for dinner."
Was his meeting at the restaurant where he'd just been kissing Olivia?
Was he coming back late because of Olivia?
I stared at those words, fury and hatred surging to my head. I opened his contact, my fingers trembling with force, and decisively blocked Richard.
Screw coming back late.
Richard never needed to come back at all.