28. Reese
CHAPTER 28
Reese
“Where the hell are my wife and my sister?”
I barely registered the heads snapping in my direction as I charged toward the reception desk, my heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything else.
Laurene. Jennie. The baby. My head was full of terrible what-ifs, each one worse than the last.
“Sir, you need to calm down,” a nurse started, but my glare stopped her in her tracks.
“Laurene and Jennie Ashbourne,” I demanded. “Where the fuck are they?”
“Your wife is stable, but please calm?—”
I didn’t let her finish. I couldn’t lose them. I wouldn’t allow it. I was happy. And life was fucking robbing me of that again. You should have told her.
“Take me to them!” I slammed my fist on the desk. “I need to see them.”
“Relax, man.” Erik’s voice hit me, and I turned as he stepped out of the hall. He looked wrecked—his clothes rumpled, his face pale. “Don’t call security, I got him.”
I turned back, noticing the nurse’s finger on the panic button. The thought hit me like a gut punch. This is my fault . If I’d told her they wanted me to give up ten percent of the distillery, and Laurene? They wanted her out of the gallery. No fucking way . I wasn’t about to let them. I just wanted Laurene to not have to worry.
I had a plan.
“What the hell happened?”
I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed with her.
“You need to take a breath. Panicking isn’t going to help them.” Erik motioned for me to follow.
The sterile glow of the fluorescent lights flickered overhead. The walls were too white, too clean. My skin felt clammy. Conrad. The crash. Crunch.
I couldn’t stop the flashes—the sharp sound of shattering glass, the metallic tang of blood in the air, his body crumpled, floating. It all came rushing back, punching the breath from my lungs.
Erik’s hand clamped on to my shoulder and the acrid sting of antiseptic filled my nostrils, dragging me back to the present.
I set up a meeting with one of my old contacts—a private investigator who owed me a favor. I know we didn’t want people to know. But this was bigger than us now, and I wanted a future with my wife. We couldn’t have this following us.
We were going to set up a trap. A bait and switch. I’d pretend to give in to the demands—get the blackmailer to come us, I would insist that’s the only way I’ll give up control.
All we needed was proof. A face. A name. Something to expose them for good.
Then it would be over. But we didn’t even get to that point.
The sharp beeps of monitors cut through the muffled murmurs of doctors and nurses, loved ones huddled around beds, the news playing on the waiting room TV. Everything felt too loud and too quiet at the same time, the sounds crashing together like a tide I couldn’t escape.
Nothing had changed in this place since that day.
Every face I passed felt like one I had seen before—blank, unfeeling eyes that had judged me when I came in with Conrad’s body beside me on the gurney. I still remember that awful feeling—the sharp sting of loss, the total helplessness.
“Erik,” I said, my voice strained. “I need to know what’s happening.”
I could still see Conrad lying there in my mind, motionless, a shell of the brother I’d known. Please don’t let Laurene look like that.
“It was a car crash,” Erik said. “The police are investigating.”
My tires were slashed, and now a car crash.
“Laurie… What if Jennie—” I couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t let the reality of it settle in. The fear of losing her when I had just gotten her back . And I hadn’t spoken to my sister since the wedding.
I felt so fucking stupid now for not speaking to Jennie over that damn dress.
“No.” Erik placed a hand on my chest, staring me down. “Jennie’s alive. My sister’s alive. That’s all that matters.”
I exhaled only for a moment as we reached the doors of the hospital room, and Erik stopped. His hand rested briefly on my shoulder. “Lu’s in here. Come down the hall to the left. I’ll be there with Jennie. And your mom and Nina.”
I glanced at him, my pulse quickening. “Harold isn’t here?”
Erik’s jaw clenched and he shook his head.
A cold knot formed in my stomach. Harold wasn’t here—just like he hadn’t been there when Conrad died.
Erik pushed the door open to reveal Laurene in the bed, her form small and fragile under the white sheets. Her arm was wrapped in a thick bandage, and bruises marred the side of her face. Her breathing was slow but steady, the rise and fall of her chest the only thing that kept me from losing it completely.
In the corner, Gigi was curled up, her shoulders shaking as she cradled Walter. The small dog trembled in her arms, his soft whines muffled by the sound of Gigi’s sobs.
What surprised me most was Vincent and Yvonne standing nearby. Vincent was stoic, his hands gripping the back of a chair so tightly that his knuckles were bone white. But it was Yvonne who truly shocked me.
Her face was…emotional.
The same face that usually was so cold now showed something raw and unfiltered. Her lips quivered, her eyes rimmed with red, as if she were holding back tears.
I turned to look at my wife. My chest constricted, twisting with an ache so deep it felt like something was tearing apart inside me.
My knees buckled, a wave of dizziness washing over me as I sank to the edge of the bed, my fingers trembling as they reached out. I brushed a strand of matted hair from her forehead, careful, afraid I might break her even more.
Tears burned the backs of my eyes, blurring the sight of her battered face, but I couldn’t look away.
“I’m so sorry,” I choked out, fear and guilt overwhelming me.
She stirred, groaning softly as her eyelids fluttered, and slowly she opened her eyes. They were fuzzy, unfocused at first, but locked on to mine, the relief in her gaze enough to make me choke back a sob.
“Reese…” Her voice was hoarse, but it was the most beautiful sound I’d heard all day.
“I’m here,” I said, cradling her face. “I’m right here.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m fine. Go see Jennie.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t leave her yet.
“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” She tried to sit up but winced, sinking back into the pillows with a pained sigh, and everyone in the room sat up straighter.
“We’re here with her, Reese,” Noelle said firmly. My attention was so focused on Laurene that I didn’t even notice she and Serena had been hovering near the bed.
“It’s okay,” Serena told me. “We’re not leaving her side. ”
I leaned forward, placing a kiss on Laurene’s lips. “I love you.”
The thought that those might have been my last words to her felt like a cruel twist of fate.
“I love you too.”
She sighed, leaning back.
“I’ll be back soon.” There was no response, just the steady sound of her breathing. I kissed her forehead once again, giving me the strength to step away, even though every instinct screamed at me to stay by her side.
Erik led me to Jennie’s room, and I paused for a moment outside the door, my hand hovering over the handle. With a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The hospital bed swallowed Jennie, her body motionless and disturbingly still beneath the thin white sheet. Her head was wrapped tightly in a bloodstained bandage, with only a few stray locks of hair poking out. The oxygen mask covering her face fogged faintly with each shallow breath, and IV lines snaked from her arms, taped to bruised skin that looked too pale.
Mom sat slumped in the chair beside her, her hands knotted together. She turned to me and her eyes were bloodshot, swollen, and rimmed with deep shadows. David, Jennie’s husband, was on the other side, staring at his wife.
Nina stood behind her, arms crossed over her chest as though holding herself together. Her lip trembled, her face a pale mask of anguish.
I hugged my mom. “It’s okay.”
“I can’t…I can’t lose her. Not again ,” she wailed, grabbing on to me as I approached.
I swallowed hard, my throat burning, as I pulled her into me, holding on like we were both drowning.
“We need her to wake up. She has to pull through.” Her voice was a whisper filled with despair. “My little girl… My little girl.”
I froze, seeing her flat belly.
Panic began rising like bile. “Where’s the baby? ”
“They had to do an emergency C-section,” David said shakily. “But the baby is okay. She’s alive.”
“She?” The word stumbled out of me, disbelief and shock colliding in my chest. “It’s a girl?”
David nodded, but the world felt like it tilted as a flood of emotions crashed over me—joy, terror, relief, and a fierce, unfamiliar protectiveness that rooted me to the spot. A niece. She was here. She was alive.
“Where is she? What’s her name?” I asked.
“She’s in the NICU. We haven’t named her yet.” His voice was thick with emotion. “I want Jennie to be part of that.”
He didn’t have to said the rest. If she wakes up.
“Can I see her?”
David’s hand rested on my shoulder as he led me through the sterile hallways of the hospital, his silence heavy with exhaustion and unspoken fears. When we stopped in front of the NICU window, my breath caught. There she was—a tiny, fragile figure swaddled in a blanket, dwarfed by the machines and tubes surrounding her.
“She’s a fighter. Like Jennie,” David said softly, tears spilling from his eyes and down his face.
I stepped closer, my heart pounding as I leaned toward the glass.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I’m your uncle Reese.”
Saying the words felt like stepping into a dream I hadn’t known I needed. My hand hovered over the glass, my fingers brushing against the barrier as if I could somehow protect her through it.
Her tiny fingers twitched, just the faintest movement, but it sent a rush of warmth through my chest. Tears stung the backs of my eyes as I swallowed hard.
This shit had to end now.
“You’ve got a whole family out here ready to love you, you know? We’ll always be here for you. Always. ”
I stood there, transfixed, the rhythmic hum of the monitors fading into the background as the world narrowed to just her.
“She’s perfect,” I said.
David was gazing at his daughter with all the love in the world. Already a father who would do anything for his child. I know if I was him I would have been burning down this entire building, maybe even the town.
Fucking Harold.
The thought of him—of how he hadn’t even bothered to show his face, not even a phone call while his daughter and his newborn granddaughter fought for their lives right now.
My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms as I stormed out of the room. The hospital doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, and the cold air slapped against my face.
When I reached my car, I yanked the door open so hard it groaned in protest, then slammed it shut with enough force to make the whole vehicle shake.
He’s going to regret this.
The tires screeched as I punched the gas. It took a quick call to his assistant to discover he’d landed nearly an hour ago and had headed home.
I pulled up to my parents’ house, tires screaming against the pavement as the car lurched to a halt. My chest heaved, the anger roiling inside me like a wildfire. I didn’t even bother shutting the door behind me as I stormed toward the entrance, the slam of my boots against the ground echoing in the cold night air.
“Harold!” My voice tore through the silence, jagged and raw, but the mansion remained still, eerily hollow. I passed the grand staircase, fists clenched so tightly my knuckles ached.
“Where the hell are you?” I bellowed, the words ricocheting off the pristine walls. Each door I passed I slammed open with enough force to rattle the frames, but they all revealed the same thing: nothing. No Harold. No answers.
I stormed down the hallway, my voice cracking as I yelled his name again, frustration bubbling into something darker. And then the blackmailer flared in my head.
They’d done this. They’d hurt my family, and it all started with the goddamn accident.
With Conrad .
I rounded the corner and stopped dead in front of his door. That door. Always locked. Always closed. It stared back at me, mocking me, daring me to step inside.
A growl ripped from my chest, and before I even knew what I was doing, my foot collided with the door. The door splintered, the hinges shrieking before the door crashed open, slamming against the wall with a thunderous crack.
The room was still. Frozen in time. Dust coated the furniture, the faint smell of leather and stale air hitting me like a punch to the gut. Conrad’s room, untouched, preserved like a damn shrine. The perfect facade for the perfect son.
“This is your fault,” I hissed into the emptiness. “You did this. Because you were a fucking bastard.”
My fists shook at my sides, nails digging into my palms.
“You were supposed to be my big brother. You were supposed to protect us. But instead, you just…left. You left us in all the bullshit!”
I staggered forward, grabbing the edge of the desk, my grip so tight it felt like my fingers would snap.
“Because of you, I lost the woman I loved. Because of you , there’s a blackmailer. Because of you , Jennie and Laurene are in the hospital.” My voice cracked, and I slammed my fist against the desk, the dull thud reverberating through the empty room.
“You ruined everything, Conrad. And you’re not even here to fucking face it.”
The words tumbled out in a choked whisper, my anger and grief bleeding together. My knees buckled under the weight, and I sank to the floor, my chest heaving as I gasped for air.
I forced myself to stand, trembling, and stared at the desk like it held all the answers I never got. My vision blurred with rage, and with a guttural roar, I swept the papers and books off the surface.
They scattered across the floor, a storm of forgotten memories and meaningless legacies.
It wasn’t enough.
The anger clawed at my insides, demanding more. I turned to the shelves, yanking at the books, tearing them down one by one, their heavy spines crashing against the floor. The noise echoed in the silent room, a hollow, pitiful sound compared to the screaming in my head.
I will never be Conrad. I’ll never measure up.
But it wasn’t true.
I’ll never be Conrad—because I’m so much more than he ever was.
I fought, not for glory, not for some twisted sense of approval. I fought to protect what mattered most. To protect Laurene. To protect my family. I fought for love, for something pure and real—something Conrad would’ve never understood.
He was a shadow, a ghost of who I never wanted to be. Cold, ruthless, never looking out for anyone but himself. And I…I was alive . I was me. I had purpose. I mattered. I’ve always mattered.
My hand found a framed photo on the desk—Conrad’s smug, perfect face staring back at me. My grip tightened around the frame until the edges bit into my palm. With a yell, I hurled it against the wall.
The glass exploded into a thousand jagged shards, scattering across the floor like splinters of everything he’d left behind.
I glanced down and froze. A leather-bound book peeked out from beneath a pile of broken glass and crumpled paper. I picked it up carefully, shards of glass tumbling from its cover, and flipped it open.
The pages felt stiff under my hands. Then I saw it. The handwriting on the first page.
Messy, slanted, unmistakable.
Conrad .
My chest tightened as I scanned the words, the ink smudged in places, as though he’d written in a rush. The air seemed to still around me as I turned the pages, each one pulling me deeper into a part of him I’d never been allowed to see.
He had been keeping secrets too.
I never thought I’d see the day where everything would feel so isolating.
They expect so much from me. I’ve become a stranger even to myself.
Every choice I make feels like it’s for them, for Dad and the family, never for me. I’m simply a role to fill, a name to uphold. Somewhere along the way, I stopped asking myself what I wanted.
I turned the page and found another entry.
I’ve buried so much—dreams, fears, even joy—so deep that I can’t remember what they looked like.
She sees me. No one else does. She brings me a kind of freedom I thought I lost.
I paused. Who was she? Laurene?
I see myself, the man I’ve buried, in her eyes. With her, I’m not the heir, the leader, or the name everyone expects me to be. I’m just…me.
When I’m with her, I can breathe again, free from the burden of Ashbourne Capital. She sees the parts of me no one else even thinks to look for. I can’t marry Laurene. To stand at that altar would be a betrayal—not just of her, but of myself.
Of the love I’ve found in someone else.
My jaw dropped as the words sank in. How the hell did he keep this from us? When did this happen? And who was she?
I can’t live this life anymore. She deserves more. I know what I’m doing is wrong, but…it has to be done. I’ll be there at the engagement party—I’ll smile, toast, and pretend like everything is fine.
By this time tomorrow, they’ll be too busy cleaning up Reese’s mess to even notice I’m missing. He won’t even see it coming. I put everything on a backup file in Avalon, just in case she needs it.
Reese is so predictable. He’ll take the bait—he always does. Bringing him more into the company has been rough, but now it’s worth it. A little nudge here, a word there, and he’ll spiral out of control.
Everyone will look at him. I’ve planted everything I need to make it look like Reese has been the one mismanaging accounts, siphoning funds, and pulling reckless stunts with the company’s name attached. The paper trail is flawless. No one will doubt it’s him.
My heart raced… No. He couldn’t have. I was praying this wa sn’t true.
Dad will see him as the screw-up he always knew he was. The Kings will turn on him. He’ll get the blame while I’m long gone with her. The money’s ready, she’s ready, and by the time the smoke clears, they won’t even know where to start looking for me.
Reese will be left holding the bag, and I’ll finally be free.
The journal slipped from my hands.
Conrad.
Laurene and I had had a plan. But Conrad had a plan too.
All those years of rivalry, of resentment, and he’d weaponized them against me.
My pulse thundered in my ears as it all clicked into place. The missing money. The discrepancies in the accounts I’d been chasing for months. Every lead that felt like a dead end. Holy shit.
Conrad had planned to frame me.
My knees felt weak as I stared down at the journal in my hands, the truth staring back at me. All this time, I thought I was uncovering some external threat, some outside force threatening the company. But it was him. Conrad.
It wasn’t enough for him to leave and disappear. He needed someone to take the blame for his mess.
Me.