Chapter 3
"I don’t want him here," I hissed, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear.
Colson placed his hands gently on my shoulders, his touch warm but heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. "He wants to help, Joey. I can’t turn him down… not now." His voice was calm, but I could hear the strain beneath it. "I need to repair my relationship with him before I…"
I couldn’t bear to let him finish. "Before you die," I said, my voice cracking, tears welling up in my eyes.
Colson’s hand moved to cup my chin, tilting my face so I had no choice but to meet his gaze.
His eyes, usually so piercing, were now soft, filled with a sorrow that mirrored my own.
"I wasn’t going to say that," he murmured, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down my cheek.
"Before I grow too weak to run AFC. Vaughn will ascend to my position in the interim, and when I… die… he’ll run the company. "
His words, so final, shattered the fragile control I had been clinging to.
I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably as I buried my face in his shoulder.
Colson wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly as if he could shield me from the inevitable.
It was a cruel twist of fate that in this moment, he was the one offering me comfort when it should have been the other way around.
Outside, I could hear Vaughn's voice, authoritative and cold, instructing the staff to bring in his things. The sound of his commands made my skin crawl. He would be staying in his old room, just down the hall from us.
I didn’t trust Vaughn because his ever-changing moods were dangerous. Since he found out Colson was sick, he eased up on his innuendo. There were no more predatory looks or forced kisses. But he also had postponed his wedding, using his father’s sickness as an excuse.
"He postponed his wedding, Colson. I have a feeling once you’re gone, he’ll end things with Serena for good."
A flicker of sadness passed over Colson’s face. "Serena deserves better, but Vaughn… he’s always been a difficult man to love."
"Difficult?" I scoffed, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "He’s impossible. And Serena… she’s so oblivious. She can’t even see how much he despises her."
Colson’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression pained.
"She was never the right match for him. I made a mistake. For all her upbringing, she lacks the grace and empathy that Vaughn needs. But it’s not just about Serena.
Vaughn needs someone who can bring out the best in him, and I’m not sure she’s capable of that. "
I wanted to argue, to tell him that no one could bring out the best in Vaughn because it simply didn’t exist. But I held my tongue, knowing that Colson needed to believe in his son, especially now.
Instead, I buried my face in his chest again, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothe my frayed nerves. "I’m scared, Colson," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I’m scared of what will happen when you’re gone."
He tightened his arms around me, his breath warm against my hair. "When the time comes… you’ll be strong. You’ve always been strong."
I wanted to believe him, to hold on to the illusion that I could survive this, that I could survive Vaughn. But as I listened to Colson’s heartbeat, so steady yet so fragile, I couldn’t shake the feeling that once it stopped, the darkness lurking in Vaughn would finally be unleashed.
At Colson’s urging, I started going to the office part-time, even on the days he stayed home.
I knew he wanted me to keep an eye on things, to report back if anything seemed out of the ordinary.
Occasionally, Vaughn would work in Colson’s office, a situation I loathed but couldn’t avoid.
It was like letting a wolf guard the sheep.
One day, when Colson was at a treatment session and insisted I didn’t need to accompany him—something he did more often lately—I heard a loud, angry shout echoing down the hallway. My heart skipped a beat. Vaughn.
I hurried down the hall, my heels clicking against the polished floor, and threw open the door to Colson’s office.
Vaughn was standing behind the desk, his face twisted in rage as he slammed his headset down with such force that it shattered.
The broken pieces scattered across the floor, one shard sliding dangerously close to my feet.
I sucked in a sharp breath, trying to steady my nerves as I closed the door behind me. Vaughn’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto mine. Before I could even register what was happening, he crossed the room in a few quick strides and grabbed me.
“Vaughn—” I barely managed to get his name out before he yanked me closer, his fingers tangling in my hair, pulling hard enough to sting.
His lips crashed down on mine with a force that knocked the air out of me. The kiss was brutal, violent—nothing like the forced intimacy I had endured from him before. His mouth moved over mine with a hunger that terrified me, his tongue forcing its way past my lips, tasting of anger and dominance.
I was too stunned to react at first, my mind reeling from the sudden assault. But then the reality of the situation slammed into me, and I pushed against him with all the strength I could muster. A small, desperate whimper escaped my throat as I struggled to free myself from his iron grip.
Vaughn only tightened his hold, his fingers digging painfully into my scalp. The kiss grew fiercer, more punishing, as if he was trying to consume me, to claim me in a way that made my skin crawl.
Panic surged through me, adrenaline lending me the strength I needed to fight back. I twisted in his grasp, shoving at his chest, my nails scraping against the fabric of his shirt. I tried to turn my face away, but he followed, his breath hot and heavy against my skin.
Finally, with a burst of desperation, I managed to break free, stumbling back as I wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand, my breathing ragged and uneven.
“Don’t ever touch me like that again,” I spat, my voice trembling with a mixture of fury and fear.
Vaughn’s eyes darkened, a dangerous glint flashing in them as he stared at me, chest heaving. For a moment, I thought he might try to grab me again, but then he took a step back, his expression shifting from anger to something more calculated, more sinister.
“Careful, Josephine,” he warned, his voice low and menacing. “You might find that resisting me only makes things worse for you. Colson won’t be around forever.”
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest as I forced myself to stand tall, to meet his gaze without flinching. “Stay away from me, Vaughn,” I whispered, each word laced with a quiet, fierce determination.
He didn’t respond, but the smirk that curled at the corner of his lips told me everything I needed to know.
I didn’t tell Colson what Vaughn had done.
I never had before, though I knew Colson was aware of his son’s obsession with me.
We were lying in bed that night, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
As with all his treatments, Colson was utterly fatigued, his body sinking deeper into the mattress.
“I need surgery,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
My head shot up from where it rested against his chest. “Why?”
“It’s spread, Joey.” His words were like a lead weight sinking in my stomach.
There was no doubt about what “it” was.
“Where?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
“My liver,” he admitted, his gaze distant. “I’m not sure it will help. I’m on borrowed time.”
I stared at him, my heart constricting with fear and sorrow.
“Please, you have to try,” I pleaded, my voice trembling.
I grabbed his hand and pulled it to my belly, where our child was growing inside me.
Two months along, and I couldn’t shake the dreadful feeling that Colson wouldn’t live to see the birth of our baby.
Seven more months—could he really have that much time left?
“Joey…” he began, his tone heavy with resignation.
I silenced him with a kiss, pressing my lips to his.
They were dry, chapped from the relentless treatments, but he kissed me back, his tongue sliding gently against mine.
It was a sweet, tender kiss, filled with the passion of love and the sadness of knowing time was slipping through our fingers.
When he finally pulled away, he cupped my face in his hands, his touch warm and comforting.
“I have secrets I want to tell you,” he murmured, his thumb stroking my cheek. “And I know you have some too.”
Tears welled in my eyes, and I shook my head, my voice cracking as I cried, “I don’t want to know.” The truth was, I did want to know, but hearing his secrets would make everything feel so final, like an admission that his life was ending, and nothing else mattered.
The anger I had buried deep inside—the anger for what he had done to my family—would come roaring back to the surface if he told me the truth. And I couldn’t hate him, not when I loved him so desperately.
“Please, Joey,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Let me tell you.”
I pressed my forehead to his, my tears falling onto his skin. “Not tonight,” I begged, my heart breaking. “Let me just have tonight.”
Colson sighed, his breath warm against my face. He nodded slowly, his hands never leaving my cheeks. “Okay,” he agreed softly. “Just tonight.”
We lay there in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between us.
I held him close, feeling the steady but weak beat of his heart against mine, and I prayed—prayed for more time, prayed for a miracle, prayed that somehow, we could escape the inevitable.
But deep down, I knew the truth was lurking, waiting for the right moment to shatter the fragile peace we had found in each other’s arms.
Colson had fallen asleep, his breathing steady but shallow beside me. Restless and unable to sleep, I slipped from the bed, pulling my silk robe tightly around me. The coolness of the night air made my skin prickle as I padded down the stairs, my bare feet silent on the polished wood floors.
The house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt almost oppressive. I needed something to calm the storm inside me, and a cup of tea usually did the trick. But tonight, I wasn’t sure if it was the situation or my pregnancy that had my stomach in knots.
In the kitchen, I set the teapot on the burner, the quiet click of the stove echoing in the stillness. As I waited for the water to boil, I felt a wave of nausea hit me, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the turmoil of emotions or the baby growing inside me.
I was staring at the granite countertop, lost in thought, when I heard Vaughn’s voice, soft but firm, cutting through the silence.
“Joey, he’s not going to get better.”
The bluntness of his words struck me like a physical blow. I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles white as I kept my eyes fixed on the cool stone beneath my hands. I knew Colson was dying, that our child would never know their father, and that I would be a widow at just twenty-four.
Tears blurred my vision, and before I knew it, Vaughn had turned me to face him.
His arms wrapped around me, and despite the constant tension between us, I sank into his embrace, letting the tears I’d been holding back finally fall.
My body shook as I cried against his chest, my sobs muffled by the soft fabric of his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” Vaughn murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
I didn’t know what he was apologizing for, and I didn’t have the energy to ask.
I just let him hold me, drawing what little comfort I could from his warmth.
The high-pitched whistle of the teapot broke the moment, and I pulled away, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand as I turned to shut off the burner.
The steam rose in delicate tendrils as I poured the hot water into my mug, the mundane task grounding me in the midst of the chaos.
“Joey,” Vaughn started again, but I cut him off.
“There’s nothing you can say to make this better,” I said, my voice raw with grief.
He moved closer, his hands resting on my shoulders as he began to massage them gently, his touch surprisingly tender. “He was so weak at Toast,” Vaughn continued, his voice barely a whisper. “His hand was shaking when he sipped his wine.”
The image of Colson struggling, trying to maintain the facade of strength, was too much. I felt like I was drowning. “Oh God,” I choked out, the panic rising in my chest. “How will I do this? How will I go on without him?”
Vaughn leaned in, his breath warm against the back of my neck. “We have no choice,” he murmured, his voice a mix of determination and sorrow. “You have our family and yours. The baby will be well taken care of.”
I tried to steady my trembling hands as I dunked the teabag into the hot water, watching as the color slowly seeped into the liquid. “Without their father,” I whispered, the sadness in my voice almost unbearable.
Vaughn’s hands squeezed my shoulders, offering silent support, but the weight of the future pressed down on me, heavy and unrelenting. The tea sat untouched as I stared at the swirling liquid, knowing that nothing would ever truly ease the ache in my heart.