Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
SHATTERED
Omar
I flip through the newspaper clippings slowly. I read every word, some of them more than once and inspect every photograph closely. As Jules sits quietly next to me in the warm kitchen, I’m colder than I’ve ever been. This is death by a dozen heartbreaks. Everything I know about her past is a lie.
The girl in the photos is her—a younger version but her. Her real name, Crown Jewel Hayford, is as absurd as the myth of lies she’s told me since the first day we met. The only thing that was true is that her father died when she was thirteen.
She left out the part where she was convicted of his murder after being seen on CCTV buying the gasoline that soaked her father’s workshop and the flat above it where they lived. There were witnesses who testified to hearing them argue, hearing her scream that she wished he was dead. And despite her insistence that there had been someone else in the shop that night, neither forensics nor witness statements confirmed it. She shocked everyone on her first day of trial by pleading guilty.
I can’t bring myself to look at her.
I’m afraid to. This can’t be real.
I want to be dreaming and wake up to find that I was hit by a truck on my way to her house that night. That Conrad never came here and she was just Jules Quist.
I dig my nails into my palms, and my chest tightens at the sting. I’m not dreaming, and the woman I love is not at all who she said she was.
“Omar…” Her voice is the same, and my heart responds the way it has since the first time I heard it—it lifts a little. But now, there’s also quiver of unease in my stomach where the truth has settled. “So this is what you’ve been keeping from me?”
“Yes.”
“And this is what Conrad is holding over you?”
“Yes.”
“How does he know?”
She sighs and focuses her eyes again, and the bleakness in them twists my heart. “He worked for my father. When I was charged, everyone in town turned against me. Except him. He was my sole character witness. He told them I would never hurt my dad. I was so grateful even though I was still remanded.”
“So what happened to turn him into your enemy?”
“I don’t know. I literally bumped into him at King’s Cross Station one night a few years after I moved to London. He was busking for money and homeless. I brought him home with me, let him stay. Tried to encourage him to get a proper job. Made the mistake of telling him how much money I’d managed to save from mine.”
“He wanted it?”
She nods. “He started by asking me for help. Money for a debt. He needed a car. But one day he asked me to lend him more than half of what I had left to invest in some business deal. Of course, I said no. Told him I’d had enough and he needed to sort himself out. And that’s when my pet snake turned on me.”
“What did he do?” I demand, so angry I wish I’d kicked him out this morning.
“Threatened to write a letter to the college I attended to tell them what I’d failed to disclose if I didn’t. All I have is my future, Omar. I just want to build a life and make sure youth offenders have good representation in court. So I gave him what he asked for. Got on with my life. Last year, he found me again. I gave him half of my savings, and he fucked off to Ibiza.”
“The calls from Spain?”
“Yup. I blocked his number. I’m not listed. He doesn’t know where I live. I figured as long as he couldn’t reach me I’d be fine. And he wouldn’t ever give up the dirt he had on me because then he’d have to find someone else to sponge off.”
She presses her lips together and then releases them with a long exhalation. “But then there was the IG video and the Architectural Digest ’s cover. He found me in no time. Except now, I have a real golden goose.”
“Shit.” I close my eyes. “Fuck that . Go to the police.”
“I paid him.”
“Why?”
“I omitted my conviction when I applied to the Bar. If I out him, I out myself. I lose my job. I can make more money, but if he reports me, I’ll be disbarred, and it would have all been for nothing. I sold some of my investments. I have half a million pounds in my account waiting to be transferred.”
I grab her by the shoulders. “Are you out of your mind?”
“No. He can report me to the Bar. I could lose my job.”
I rewind to the first bomb she dropped. “You lied o n your application?”
She closes her eyes. “I only decided to read law because I wanted to find a way to clear my name, and I knew that the best way to beat the system was to be part of it. My plan was, once I qualified as a barrister, I’d be able to access court records and hunt for the evidence the police and my expensive-ass lawyer missed. But then I became a barrister and met Reena and Dominic and Jodi and…you.” Her eyes soften, and she swallows audibly, and I’m torn. I want to comfort her, but I can’t.
“I decided I didn’t want to dredge it all up again. I’ve made a name for myself . I love my job. It’s all I have. I can’t risk it for anything.”
“Good to know I count as nothing.”
Her head snaps up, her eyes blazing. “Omar, be fair. This was supposed to be a temporary, enjoyable interlude that would end when you went back to America. I hoped I’d never have to tell you. That we’d get to walk away with nothing but fond memories.”
“Wow, I wish you’d told me that before I fell in love with you.”
“I did tell you that. You didn’t listen.”
“Oh, so this is my fault?”
“No, but it’s not my fault that I’m alone in this world and can’t rely on anyone but myself.”
“You could have relied on me.”
“Not if you’d known this.”
“Well, I’d much rather know your shit than live on your lies. They are fucking poison. The truth is terrible sometimes, but it’s necessary. And I just can’t understand what I’ve done to make you think I wouldn’t show you the same compassion you showed me.”
Her swallow is audible and wet, and her voice quavers with an anguish that’s as palpable as my own. “When it started, I didn’t expect us .” She waves a hand between us. “And this isn’t the kind of thing I tell people on a first date. Not because I want to deceive you but because it’s been used against me. I didn’t know I would love you and that you would love me, too.”
“Fine. But when you did, you kept on lying. You should have told me.”
She purses her lips and eyes me with skeptical eyes. “So if I’d said, ‘I was convicted of killing my father when I was thirteen. I didn’t do it, I couldn’t have because I loved him more than I loved to breathe, but I pled guilty because my lawyers told me to and I was a scared thirteen-year-old girl with not a soul in the world to hold my hand. I served my time, but I can’t live my life as I choose because of a crime I didn’t commit. So I changed my name and started a new life. And I wanted the temporary pleasure you’re offering.’” Her voice breaks. “If I’d said all of that, would you have brought my iPad back to my place, or danced with me and made love to me?”
“We’ll never know because you didn’t give us a chance to find out.”
She closes her eyes and blows out a harsh breath. “You haven’t spoken to your father for the better part of a year. I knew.” She opens her eyes again and the bleakness in them is nearly unbearable. “You were supposed to leave. You said so.”
I laugh to keep from bellowing. “Sorry I ruined your plans.”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m just telling you what my rationale was.”
“There’s no rationale for misleading me like this. Were you never going to tell me?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t kill my father. I wanted something in my life to not be tarnished by that.” She sounds so tired.
“Then why aren’t you trying to clear your name?”
“I just wanted a clean slate. I’m so sorry, sorrier than I can say that I dragged you into this. But nothing has to change. If you can see past the name and see it’s me—the same woman you’ve always loved—can’t we please go on, just as we are?”
“What, with you paying a blackmailer and practicing law illegally? No. We can’t do that. At least not together.”
She starts to sob, and my soul rejects the sound. I swore I’d never make her cry anything other happy tears. I’m breaking my word and breaking her heart. I hate seeing her hurting, but I can’t comfort her.
“I have to go.”
“Please don’t go,” she whispers, and I shake my head. I can’t stay here and listen to her cry.
“I have to. I can’t think here.” I grab my wallet.
“Where are you going?” She stands right in front of me.
“I don’t know.” I walk to my office and grab my laptop, my iPad, my passport, and my Kindle. While I gather, I plan what I’m doing next.
I’ll buy a ticket at the airport and fly straight to LA and then drive to my house in Calabasas. I can be alone there and think.
I can’t look at her. Because then I’ll want to stay, and I can’t. I walk back out to the foyer where she’s still sitting on the stairs, sniffling loudly. “When will you be back?” she calls after me when I turn for the door.
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”