32. Laurene
CHAPTER 32
Laurene
“Nina, what the hell are you doing?”
She held the gun steady, her eyes icy. “Be quiet and do what I tell you.”
I swallowed, my voice shaky, but I pushed through. “What do you want from me?”
“What do I want?” She stepped forward, the barrel of the gun still locked on me, and she laughed. “Everything.”
I backed up, not taking my eyes off her.
“Move again, and I’ll shoot,” she warned.
“What are you talking about? What did I do?”
Her eyes hardened as she took another step closer. “You killed Conrad. That’s what you did.”
The words hit me like a punch in the gut. My breath caught in my throat, my heart racing as I processed what she said. “What? I didn’t?—”
She swung her free hand, palm colliding hard with the side of my face. My head whipped to the right and a sharp pain radiated through my temple.
“Shut the fuck up.” Nina’s eyes were wild, almost unrecognizable. “Be cool, Laurene. You don’t want this to get messy. ”
I stood there, dazed, my face burning with the sting of her slap.
“You’re going to do exactly what I tell you, or I swear to God, it’ll be your funeral next.”
Her fingers tightened on the gun, and I locked my eyes on the barrel, terrified that one wrong move would be the end of me.
“Now walk.”
I walked. As I stepped out of the hospital room, I glanced toward where the security detail usually stood—but they were gone. The hallway was quiet, too quiet. No guards. No Reese. No one.
“Where are the?—”
“Getting rid of them was a nightmare,” Nina cut in, sounding weirdly happy about it. “But I managed. You’re welcome.”
Welcome? I bit my tongue.
I forced myself to walk steadily past all the nurses and doctors, who were busy with other things. A conversation about a patient’s vitals. The beep of machines in nearby rooms. A clipboard tucked under an arm. Life moved on around me like nothing was wrong, like I wasn’t walking toward something I might not survive.
The elevator doors slid open. I hesitated for half a second—long enough for Nina to push me forward.
“Inside.”
I stepped in, and she followed, close enough that I could feel the heat of her breath at my shoulder. The doors shut with a soft ding , sealing us in.
The metallic walls reflected us back—me, standing stiff and controlled, and Nina, standing behind me, the gun hidden from anyone who might see. But I could see it. The black shape against my back. The slight shake in her fingers.
I had only a few seconds to figure it out before we hit the ground floor. Before she got me outside .
Outside meant fewer people. Fewer distractions. Fewer chances to run.
I needed to act now .
The numbers above the doors ticked down.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Nina shifted behind me, adjusting her grip.
Six.
Five.
I had to do something.
Four.
Three.
I exhaled slowly, schooling my voice into something careful. “Nina?—”
“Shut up,” she snapped, pressing the gun harder against my back.
Two.
One.
The doors slid open.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Nina shook her head. “Too late.”
The cool night air rushed in from the hospital’s main entrance, but it didn’t soothe the fire burning under my skin. My pulse pounded, my instincts screaming at me to run, but before I could take a full run?—
Pain exploded at my scalp.
I gasped as Nina yanked me back by my hair, her fingers twisting at the roots, sharp and unrelenting.
“Not so fast,” she hissed, her breath hot against my ear.
She forced me across the dimly lit parking lot, dragging me toward a sleek black sedan, and I saw the dents in them.
She’d been the one that hit us.
“Get in the car.” She shoved me toward the driver’s side. “Drive. ”
She slid into the passenger seat, the gun pointed directly at me.
I swallowed hard, gripping the wheel. My mind raced, searching for an opening, a way out. But she was too close. And I didn’t doubt for a second she’d pull the trigger if I so much as hesitated.
“Where?” I asked, barely a whisper.
Nina smirked.
“I’ll tell you.”
The directions were short and clipped, forcing us farther and farther from Lush. The city lights faded behind us, swallowed by the thick woods lining the road. I gripped the wheel, my mind racing.
Finally, we turned onto a gravel road, the tires crunching as we pulled up to a secluded cabin. It was old, the wood darkened with time, but something about it sent a jolt through me.
“Out.”
I crept up, eyes glued to the place, my stomach churning as we got closer to those steps.
Then I saw it—the faintly carved emblem by the door.
Ashbourne.
“Hurry up,” Nina hissed, her fingers tightening in my hair as she forced me up the steps. Her eyes flicked around, scanning the trees like she expected someone to be watching. The door creaked open, and the second I stepped inside, my breath caught.
The cabin wasn’t abandoned.
A fire crackled low in the stone fireplace, the scent of burnt wood and something faintly spiced hanging in the air. A jacket was slung over the back of the couch, boots tucked neatly by the door.
“Sit,” Nina ordered, shoving me toward a worn wooden chair in the middle of the room.
My gaze flicked to the table beside me, where two plates sat, remnants of a meal still clinging to them. The silverware was stacked, a half-full glass of wine and a half a cup of milk still waiting to be finished.
“Why are you really doing this, Nina?”
“I already told you,” she snapped. “You killed Conrad.”
“Has it been you the entire time?” My voice was quiet but steady. “The notes. The photos. The threats…” I swallowed. “The car crash?”
Nina’s expression filled with satisfaction. “You and your damn family, pushing him, controlling him, suffocating him until there was nothing left of who he was. You were his fiancée. Not me. And you never deserved him.”
My engagement to Conrad had been more of a formality—it had never been about love, not for me. But for Nina…
“He loved me,” she hissed. “Not you. Never you.”
Oh my God.
“How long?”
Nina’s fingers flexed on the gun, her jaw tight.
“Longer than you,” she said. “Long enough for him to need me before you ever got your claws in him.”
I stared at her, the pieces clicking into place.
Did Reese know? Pauline? Harold or Jennie?
My stomach turned. “When, Nina?”
Her lips curled into something almost smug. “Eight years ago.”
I felt the floor tilt beneath me. That meant?—
“And yet, you got to be the fiancée.”
“How? When?” I asked. Why hadn’t Conrad come forward with her? Why did he agree to marry me?
Nina began to pace in front of me. Swinging the gun back and forth in her hand.
“Two years before… you , he hired me as an assistant. I was just a nobody fresh out of school. But I was smart, and I was good , and he saw that.” Her voice dropped, turning almost dreamy. “It started slow. Late nights. Takeout in his office. A hand on my back when I did something right. Then one night, we were celebrating a big deal, just the two of us, I kissed him first. I knew he wanted me, but he wouldn’t cross that line—so I did it for him.”
I clenched my jaw, heart pounding.
“That night was the first of many. We were careful. Secretive. But when we were together, it was real. I knew him in a way you never did.”
“Then why did you both never take it public?”
“You think I didn’t want to?” she snapped.
I held her gaze, ignoring the way my pulse hammered in my throat. Keep her talking. Keep her distracted. “So why didn’t he?”
“Because he couldn’t. Harold made that clear. He had a plan for Conrad, and I was never part of it. Conrad had to marry someone with money, not a poor girl from Kansas like me. He told him—straight to his face—that if he married someone like me, he could kiss the company goodbye.” Her lips curled. “But you ? You were perfect. Lush royalty. You had the name, the connections, the pedigree.”
The gun in her hand wavered slightly as she spoke, her fingers tightening and loosening around the grip. What a fucking bastard.
I shifted slightly in the chair, careful not to move too fast. “You think I asked for the engagement?”
“Conrad had a plan. He was gonna get us out of here. He was giving me money… Then it stopped.” Her head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing. “The second he put that ring on your finger, he changed. Stopped calling. Stopped looking at me like I was his .”
“We were trying to find a way out,” I told her. “Reese and I.”
“You ruined everything! You destroyed my life, and now you’re going to pay for it!”
“I’m sorry, Nina. Truly, I am. I didn’t know. Maybe all of us could have come to an agreement or helped each other out?—”
I took in the room around me as Nina ranted, searching for any clue that might give me an out. My gaze fell on an old family portrait on the wall. The Ashbourne family, all smiles.
“So why stay after the accident?”
Nina froze for just a moment, her eyes flickering to the portrait as if she could see Conrad’s ghost haunting her. She didn’t answer right away.
“Conrad left me millions,” she said at last, her voice almost wistful, but her eyes were hard as stone. “Took it from the company. He left this cabin for me too. But I’m running out of money. I have a lifestyle to maintain.”
My stomach churned.
“And you want to know the best part?” She took a step closer, pointing the gun at me again, the barrel steady against my chest. “I’ve been stealing from the company. Pauline gave me access to all the books. All the accounts. I was pulling money from every angle I could—nobody noticed. Till Reese stopped things. That’s when I demanded my twenty million. So where is it, Laurene?”
Shit, Reese had been right to not pay.
I steadied my breath, looking directly into her eyes. She was broken—there was no question about that. But there was something else beneath her anger. Something raw. Desperate. Maybe, just maybe, I could get through to her.
“Nina,” I said gently. “You’ve been through hell, I know that. But taking me isn’t going to fix anything. It won’t bring Conrad back. It won’t make anything right.”
“You don’t get what you’ve done. What you took from me. He was mine.”
“I didn’t take anything from you.” I shook my head. “Conrad…he loved you. But he was trapped, Nina. Trapped by the same things I was. We were all trapped.”
The gun wavered just slightly in her hands, but the fire in her eyes remained. “And Reese? What about him? He hated Conrad. I’m sure that’s what you two planned, kill him off?”
“No, Nina. That’s not what happened.” I was trying to stay calm, trying to make her understand. “We just wanted Conrad to end the engagement. He took it too far.”
Nina’s face twisted, disbelief flashing across her expression, but she didn’t lower the gun. “Liar.”
I caught the glint of something on the table—a knife resting just inches away.
“On the boat, when I went downstairs, I needed a moment to myself before we told him. When I came out the bathroom, Conrad was there. I thought I could convince him. Conrad said no. That’s the truth.”
“That’s a lie.”
I shifted slightly in my chair, careful not to draw attention to my subtle movements toward the knife.
“He said he wouldn’t lose the life he had.”
Nina’s face twisted, confusion and rage battling for dominance. “You’re a liar. Before we got on the boat, he told me he wanted out. He said we’d be free together. He promised me.”
“Nina—”
“You did something. You and Reese—he wouldn’t have changed his mind. Not unless you forced him to.”
I could see it now—the way she was breaking , piece by piece.
“You backed him into a corner, didn’t you?” she accused, stepping closer. The gun shook, but her voice sharpened. “You turned him against me.”
I shook my head. “No, Nina. That’s not?—”
“Shut up!” She slammed her free hand against the wall. The gun jerked with the motion, and for a split second, I thought she was going to pull the trigger. “I know what I heard. I know what he told me. And you—you’re just trying to twist it.”
I swallowed hard. “I think you’re grieving, Nina.”
“So that’s what you’re saying?” Her voice dropped, low and lethal. “That Conrad turned on me?”
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
“Why else would he have said no? Why he wouldn’t have agreed to our deal? Unless he had another plan,” I said. “ Conrad loved his life, and he might have loved it more than you.”
The gun wavered—it moved like she was deciding whether to aim it right at my head or heart.
“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” she whispered. “You’re trying to get inside my head, make me doubt him.”
She started pacing, sharp, jerky movements, her free hand pulling at her hair.
“He wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t.” Nina’s head snapped toward me, her entire face contorted in fury. “Say it!” she screamed. “Say that Conrad didn’t turn on me!”
My heart slammed against my ribs. If I lied, she might see through it. If I told the truth?—
“Maybe he was never going to leave with you. He loved his status. Would he give that up for you like you thought?”
Her breath caught.
“Maybe he wanted you to believe that,” I continued, “so you wouldn’t question what he was really doing.”
“Stop it.”
“Maybe Conrad was only telling you what you wanted to hear.”
“Stop it!”
Her hand jerked—her finger pulling against the trigger just slightly.
I swallowed, forcing my voice to stay calm. “He stole money, Nina. He stole Reese’s ideas. That was never about you. He said he changed things, maybe he wanted to give the money back and stay? This life is the only one he knew.”
“You don’t know that,” she whispered.
I tilted my head. “Neither do you.”
Her lips parted, and for a second, I could see her working through it—every possibility, every question she never let herself ask.
Then, I struck.
“But Reese does. He found Conrad’s journal. ”
Her entire body snapped taut.
“If you want the truth, you need his journal. Maybe Conrad did plan to run off with you, but he changed his mind at some point. Maybe he was gonna tell you or not,” I said, voice quiet but firm. “You need to know what he wrote.”
Nina’s fingers twitched around the gun, and she lowered it slightly. I launched myself sideways out of the chair, my arm swinging out to grab the knife.
Bang!
A deafening gunshot ripped through the air. The bullet punched into the wooden chair where I’d been sitting.
Too close.
I crashed into the table, grabbing the knife. I twisted on the ground, the steel handle cold in my fingers. Nina was already turning back toward me, her face twisting in rage.
I swung.
The knife sliced through the air, catching her across the arm. A shallow gash, not deep enough to stop her, but enough to make her scream in pain. She staggered back, clutching her arm in pain, and I lunged forward, our bodies colliding with a thud. Hard.
We hit the floor, and the gun skidded across the wooden planks. Her long nails dug into my skin, leaving burning red marks as her knee smashed into my ribs. I started to lift the knife, but she grabbed my wrist and pulled it away. I twisted, feeling the muscles in my back strain as I used my weight to roll us over. The cabin spun. Nina was under me, and I was on top.
I drove the knife down.
Her fingers closed around my wrist, a surprising firmness in her grip. We struggled, arms shaking, the blade inches from her throat. I pressed down and she dug her fingers into me; it was scary how strong she was, even hurt.
“Fucking die!” she screamed, bucking beneath me.
With a sharp twist, she wrenched my arm sideways, and I heard a sickening crack. The knife slipped from my grasp. A cold wave of fear washed over me, and my stomach lurched violently.
Then she punched me square in the jaw.
My head snapped back, vision blurring for a split second.
That was all she needed.
With a sudden, harsh shove, she sent me tumbling. I hit the floor, gasping, but I was already up and moving. I scrambled for the knife, and she went for the gun.
I’m not dying tonight.
I grabbed the knife, twisted—and drove it into her side.
A gurgle escaped her lips, as the gun clattered to the ground. For a second, neither of us moved. Her fingers trembled against her side, blood pooling beneath her palm.
I took a shaky step back.
“I can’t die, Laurene.” She turned her head. “I can’t… My son.”
What the fuck?
“Your son? What son?”
She nodded, and she stumbled, clutching the knife in her side.
“Conrad’s son,” she rasped.
Conrad’s son?
Conrad had a son. A child.
She lifted her blood-soaked hand, as if to reach out to me. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”
I took a step back. She was still standing, but then a moment of evil clarity appeared in her eyes, and Nina’s gaze flicked to the gun on the floor.
I bolted.
The door burst open behind me as I hurled myself through it, my balance breaking. I tumbled down the stairs, my knees slamming into the dirt, but I barely felt it. Adrenaline burned through my veins.
A gunshot cracked the air.
I flinched, ducking instinctively, but I didn’t stop .
My legs were already driving forward, knees pumping high, feet tearing through the thick, clawing underbrush. Thorns scraped at my skin, twigs snapped underfoot, and dry leaves crunched as the woods swallowed me whole.
I heard Nina behind me. “You can’t run away!”
Another shot rang out, the bullet whizzing past me into a tree.
I had to live. For my siblings, for the dream of owning my gallery, for Reese. I envisioned a future with him: kids, a house, growing old together.
I couldn’t let her win.
The staccato bursts of gunfire echoed around me, and I wondered how many bullets she had left as I ducked and dodged. I crashed through the clearing, lungs on fire, sweat blurring my vision. Each breath was like swallowing glass, sharp and ragged. The only thought pounding in my head—I had to make it to the road.
Back to town. Back to someone. Anyone.
I burst through the tree line, and my feet hit concrete, but I was moving too fast—I stumbled and pitched forward, hitting the ground. My palms scraped against the rough pavement, skin tearing. Dazed, I lifted my head—just in time to see the blinding glare of headlights bearing down on me.
Tires screamed.
The car swerved, skidding across the asphalt, missing me by inches. The wind from it blasted against my skin, the scent of burnt rubber choking the air.
I pushed myself up, turning to see the car skidded to a halt, into the ditch on the side of the road.
Then the door opened.
Reese.
And beside him, Dante?
A sob clawed up my throat, but no sound came out. My body locked up, torn between relief and the sheer terror still clinging to my skin .
“Laurene!”
He was already moving, his feet pounding against the pavement.
Before I could blink, he was in front of me, kneeling, his hands gripping my arms as he lifted me to my feet. Heat radiated off him, his chest rising and falling just as fast as mine.
“Nina,” I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been Nina the whole time.”
I turned to Dante, and there were no sly looks and grins. He looked both relieved and horrified to see me.
Reese looked back at him and said, “He stayed at the hospital. He saw her take you just as I got there.”
Then— crunch.
My blood ran cold.
Nina.
She lurched forward from the tree line, her body swaying, a grotesque silhouette against the moonlight. Blood soaked her side, dripping in thick rivulets down her arm, but she barely seemed to notice.
With an eerie slowness, she reached down, fingers curling around the hilt of the knife buried in her flesh. She yanked it free. The sound—a nasty, wet suction of steel leaving muscle—turned my stomach.
A wicked smile stretched across her lips, her hand shaking violently as she lifted the gun.
“No!”
The shot rang out.
Reese thrust me aside with a grunt, the force knocking me off-balance. I hit the ground hard, just in time to see the bullet punch into his chest.
No.
A strangled scream ripped from my throat. Reese stumbled, his body jerking from the impact before crumpling onto the concrete. Blood spilled beneath him, dark and spreading fast .
“Reese! No— no !” My voice cracked, panic choking me as I scrambled toward him.
Dante was already moving, his attack so sudden that Nina barely had time to react. He tackled her to the ground, the gun flying from her grasp as they tumbled, the dirt spraying up around them.
But it didn’t matter.
Not while the shallow, rasping sound of Reese’s breath filled the air.
His eyes were hazy, unfocused, but they found mine.
“Reese, please,” I begged. “Please, don’t—don’t leave me. I love you, stay awake. Stay with me, baby.”
His trembling hand weakly reached for mine, his skin cold and clammy.
“I love you too,” he breathed, the words barely audible. A sudden darkness clouded his eyes; his hand, growing cold and still, slipped from my grasp.
A cacophony of sirens filled the air, growing louder and closer, a desperate, hopeless sound, but it was agonizingly too late.