23. Riley
23
RILEY
T he sound of the front door snicking shut wakes me from sleep. I stir in Logan’s arms, which tighten around me as he groans into my shoulder. A makeshift bed had been constructed on the living room floor when I arrived home from the hospital, piled high with pillows and blankets. I’ve been cocooned in it all day while Logan plied me with food and distractions. When none of that worked to make me relax, I’m pretty sure he dosed my juice with pain meds because I don’t remember falling asleep.
“Five more minutes,” he mumbles, making me smile despite the heavy weight that has been wrapped around my throat, choking me as it sits painfully on my chest since Bertram dropped the bomb that he has Aurora.
That weight making it impossible to breathe? It’s fear.
Terror over what Bertram has been doing with my daughter all these weeks. Dread over what he wants. What his end game is. Trepidation over how I get her back… how we get her back.
Bertram might be Aurora’s father, but that little girl is mine .
If Aurora’s going to call anyone Daddy , it won’t be him. It’ll be the three men who were as knocked off their feet as I was to discover the truth. The three men who have vowed to do whatever it takes to get her away from him. To bring her home.
I’m failing to untangle myself from Logan’s octopus arms when Royce and Grayson walk in, expressions carefully blank. Too blank. It immediately has my shoulders bunching and my earlier headache reappearing with a vengeance.
Royce comes straight to my side, crouching on the mattress as he reaches for me. “How are you feeling?”
My eyes search his.
“She’s still got a headache, but she ate and drank and has been resting,” Logan fills him in, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he sits up. The sheet falls to his waist, exposing his chest, and my gaze lingers momentarily on those hard planes before I glance away, watching as Grayson collapses into a chair. His knuckles are split and raw-looking, and my attention snaps back to Royce, noticing his are the same. “What happened?” I demand.
He sighs this long, weary sound that tells me nothing good. My heart sinks.
Grayson emits an equally exhausted groan, swiping a hand down his face, but not before I notice the dark bags under his eyes, despite the still prominent bruising from his stupid fight with Dax.
“I think we need coffee for this conversation,” Logan groans, climbing out from beneath the sheets.
“And you need more clothes.” My gaze snaps to Grayson, finding him staring at the exposed skin of my shoulder, where the oversized T-shirt I’m wearing has fallen, with a feral sort of possession that liquifies my insides.
I shift, catching a whiff of myself. “What I need is a shower.” And a moment to prepare.
“Go shower, Ry. Take as long as you need.” Royce helps me to my feet, and feeling Grayson’s heated stare on my bare legs, I pull down the hem of my T-shirt before Royce escorts me from the room.
In the shower, the hot water cascades over my skin, a temporary balm to my frayed nerves. Bertram has my daughter. It’s a terrifying sentence I never thought I’d hear. What is he doing with her? Where is he keeping her? They are questions I barely dare to ask myself.
Hands trembling, I force my eyes closed and let the steam envelop me. Flashes of another life… no, a dream, play out behind my eyelids.
Aurora’s laughter.
Royce’s smile.
Logan’s light.
The love in Grayson’s eyes when he looked at my daughter… and when he looked at me.
My heart clenches, and a sob rips from my throat. I can feel it, right there, at the tips of my fingers. It’s practically within reach, yet every time I grab for it, it slinks away. How can everything I ever wanted but never thought I’d find be so close yet so far? When I gave birth to Aurora, my life became all about her. Every breath. Every thought. Everything I did was for her. I never thought I’d find a man who would want us . Figured, I’d wait until she was grown, finishing high school, if not in college, before I considered a serious relationship with anyone.
Yet somehow, I’ve found not one but three men who accept us, who accept my little girl without even having met her.
I feel like the luckiest woman in the world.
And the unluckiest.
How much more can I take? How many more blows before I shatter completely? I’ve been barely holding on, clinging to the hope that we’ll find Aurora and that everything will be okay. But with each piece of bad news, that hope feels more like a delusion. This final one… knowing Bertram not only knows of Aurora’s existence but that he has her… I fear that it will be my undoing.
My body shakes with silent sobs, the sound of the water masking my despair.
Leaning against the cool tile, I allow myself to feel the fear that I’ve been holding at bay. It surges up, a tidal wave of anxiety and exhaustion that threatens to drown me.
Closing my eyes, I think of Aurora, her sweet face, and the way she laughs, and a fresh wave of fear grips my heart. I must be strong for her, but what if I can’t? What if this is the hit that sends me over the edge? My mind spins with the what-ifs, the terrifying possibilities that keep me awake at night.
Hidden from the rest of the world, the sound of my openly bleeding wounds masked by the rushing of water, I allow myself this moment of weakness, these precious few minutes where I can break down and feel every ounce of my fear and pain. Then, slowly, I start to pull myself back together. I take a deep breath, feeling the steam fill my lungs, and I force myself to stand tall. I can’t give in to despair. This life will not beat me down. Bertram will not destroy me.
Aurora needs me, and for her, I’ll be strong.
The water washes away my tears, and with them, some of my fear. I start to rebuild my walls, brick by brick, fortifying myself against the onslaught of emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. I can do this. I have to do this.
I turn off the shower and open the steamed-up door. Royce stands there with a towel already in his hands.
“Wanted to check on you,” he says at my look of surprise. I hadn’t even heard him come in. His gaze drops to my thighs, shadows swimming in his eyes, and I realize he was worried I would do something stupid like I did when I found out about Bertram’s release.
I step into the open towel and continue until I’m pressed against him, my cheek resting against the hard lines of his muscles. “That was a moment of terror-fueled stupidity,” I tell him. “I’m… I’m not okay. I’m so far from being okay, but I don’t want to hurt myself. I haven’t truly wanted to hurt myself for a long time. Since I found out I was pregnant with Aurora.” I shake my head. “It was a moment of weakness that I regret.”
His large, calloused hand slides between the wet, heavy strands of my hair. “Don’t regret a moment of weakness, James.” His voice is deep and earnest. “Showing weakness isn’t a failure. It’s a necessary part of the journey. Those moments of vulnerability allow us to grow and find our true strength. Without them, we’d never know the full extent of our resilience. It’s in those cracks that our light shines through the brightest.”
His words hit me hard, resonating deep within. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let them fall. “I just... I don’t want to let anyone down. Especially not Aurora.”
“You won’t,” he assures me, his grip tightening on the back of my head and tilting it so I’m looking into his face. “You’ve already shown more strength and resilience than most people ever do. The fact that you can admit to feeling weak and then find the courage to move forward, that’s what makes you truly strong.”
His breath dances across my lips before he seals it with a kiss, one that infuses me with more strength than I thought possible. I feel the cracks in my armor sealing over, melding together.
“And in those moments where you can’t be strong,” he whispers when he pulls back, still holding me. “I’ll be strong for you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice filled with gratitude.
His responding smile is a thing of beauty before he helps me change into a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved top of his. Before we exit the bathroom, though, he places a hand on my arm. “I want to show you something.”
I glance up at him, searching his eyes. “Okay.”
With a small smile at my display of trust, he trails his fingers down my arm before slotting them through mine and leading me out of the bathroom.
We cross the hall to his room before he drops my hand, moving to flick on the bedside lamp before opening a drawer in his dresser. “I don’t think I ever told you I snuck into Lydia’s house once.”
“You did?” My eyebrows hitch in surprise. “Why?”
Back still turned to me, he shrugs those broad shoulders of his. “I didn’t like the things you said about her—how she was withholding Aurora from you. So, I went to do a little digging.”
I huff humorlessly. “Of course you did. Wait, is that how you found out she was up to something?”
He nods. Lifting something out of his dresser drawer, he turns to face me. “I went there to better understand Lydia… but also because I was curious about Aurora.”
I go still, hanging on his every word as he takes a step toward me.
“I saw the effort you’d put into her room.” Step. “Ensuring she felt at home in that house.” Step. “That she was loved.”
The light from the bedside table glints off the box in his hand, a sparkle of glitter catching my eye. My gaze snaps to the pink box he’s holding, a hand flying to cover my mouth as a gasp rips free. “Royce.”
His name is choked. Strangled.
“I found this hidden under her bed.”
My gulp is audible as I swallow, throat thick and dry. “H-how do you have that?”
Hands shaking, I drag my finger over the writing on the lid, scrawled in glitter pen:
Aurora and Mommy’s box of memories.
“I went back to her house the day after… She had the house packed up already. Her room…” Something in his tone has me lifting my eyes. He merely shakes his head and frowns. I focus back on the box. “I paid the movers to deliver everything she didn’t want here. It’s taken me a while to go through it all. I hadn’t wanted to say anything until I found it.”
Throat constricting around nothing, I croak, “Have you looked inside?”
One side of his lips tilts in a mischievous smile like he’s been caught doing something naughty. Despite the chaotic storm of emotions raging inside, I can’t help but laugh at his expression. “I might have peeked inside when I was in her room that night.”
I slowly take the box from him, holding it carefully in my arms as I sit on the edge of his bed. I pat the space beside me, waiting until he sits before reaching for the lid. “We made this when I found out I’d gotten into Halston. I wanted her to have keepsakes.” I swallow roughly. “I was worried my mother would toss out any nicknacks or reminders of me, so we put them all in here. Along with all the memories we made last summer.”
Breathing shallowly, I delicately lift the lid, setting it gently on the bedside table before I look down at the contents of the box. My lips tremble with the onslaught of memories. Craft days spent together. Birthdays. Movie dates. Our trip to the carnival last summer.
“There’s so much happiness in this box,” I murmur, taking my time as I flick through the stack of photos. In every single one, Aurora is smiling up at the camera. Happy .
“So much love, too,” Royce adds, leaning in to peer at the pictures.
“Yeah,” I agree.
“You’re obviously a great mom.”
I make a noise of self-deprecation. “I dunno about that. There’s a lot I’ve done wrong.”
“Yeah, but there’s also a lot you’ve done right, and the way your daughter looks at you in these photos, I’d say you’ve done a hell of a lot more right than you have wrong.”
“I feel like I’m always failing her,” I admit aloud. “Like, no matter what I do, I always make the wrong decision.”
“I don’t think that’s true. Every decision you make, you do it with her best interests in mind. Sure, they might not always work out the way you intended.” I snort derisively. “ But , they were decisions made with love, which is all any kid really needs.” Royce is silent for a moment before he confesses. “I’d readily give up every dollar to the King name if it meant having parents who loved me. Who cared .”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I’d give up anything to have that too.”
Noticing something, he leans closer, dipping his hand into the box. “What’s this?” he asks, beads dangling from his fingertips.
Smiling fondly, I take the bracelet from him. Riley is spelled out on white beads, each letter brightly colored in a different vibrant hue. At either end are tiny, shiny gold beads that add a pretty sparkle to the bracelet, while the rest is filled with shades of pink from soft pastels to deep rose, creating a beautiful gradient. It’s playful and eye-catching, and I remember being so delighted when Grayson gave it to me.
“This is the only gift I’ve ever received from Grayson,” I share with Royce.
“No way, Gray got you this?”
I nod my head. “For my fifteenth birthday. We’d only been living in his house for a month or so. We hardly knew each other, but I was already crushing on him,” I chuckle, remembering. “My mom hated it. She said it was cheap. I mean, it was a kid’s bracelet; of course, it was cheap, but I loved it. She refused to let me wear it, so I kept it hidden in my jewelry box, scared that if she saw it, she’d throw it in the trash.
“This bracelet was my lifeline. When I was feeling so desperately alone and isolated, I’d hide in my closet, clutching this in my hand, and I’d think about Grayson and whatever stupid thing he’d done that day to make me smile.”
I stroke my finger reverently over the beads spelling out my name. “It gave me hope that there was someone out there who cared, who saw me. It made me feel like I wasn’t entirely alone in the world.”
My lips are bone dry as I continue. “When I left for Halston, I gave it to Aurora, hoping it would offer her the same comfort—that when she was missing me or felt alone, she could lift it out and know that I was always with her.”
“How about you keep it safe until you can give it back to her.” Royce carefully takes the bracelet from me, before sliding it over my hand. “Now, she can always be with you. And Grayson, too, which I’m sure he’ll get a kick out of.”
My responding laugh is wet as I swipe at my eyes. “He’s totally going to see this as a sign of possession.”
Smirking, Royce teases, “Hey, it could be worse. It could be a choker.”
“Oh my god!” I smack him in the chest with the back of my hand, even though I’m laughing, the moment of levity broken. “Wait, do you think that’s what he was doing with this? Claiming me?”
Royce snorts. “I have no doubt.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, barely feeling the heat from my scalding coffee as it sears into my palms. I can feel the coolness of the bracelet against my wrist, hidden beneath Royce’s top, and thank goodness for its inherent powers because I am in need of its strength after that bomb drop—something Royce somehow knew.
Taking a steadying breath, I look into each of their faces. The four of us are seated around the kitchen table for this discussion.
I’m not sure if I’m in a state of shock or denial.
Both.
I’m definitely experiencing both.
Or perhaps that concussion was more severe than the doctor thought, and this is all some sort of twisted hallucination.
“My mother paid this guy, this… Vincent, to kill me?”
There’s no way I heard that right.
Except, the mixture of outright hostile and sympathetic expressions they are each sporting says that’s exactly what Grayson just said.
“Why?”
Okay, that’s probably a stupid question. There is no love lost between me and Lydia. Still, outright murdering me sounds… ridiculous. Yeah, so did finding out she sold your daughter…
…To fucking Bertram!
The three of them share an uneasy look. It’s Grayson who spells it out for me. “You’re an… inconvenience. A problem. A… nuisance.” Logan growls in warning, one leg bouncing erratically under the table. Grayson’s hard stare slides his way. “Obviously, none of us think that,” he drawls, glowering at Logan. “But I imagine it’s what your mo—” It’s my turn to glare at him, and he quickly corrects himself. “ Lydia is thinking.” He sighs. “I don’t know what her plans were after she offloaded Aurora”—Cue another furious hiss from Logan—“but I’m guessing she knows she can’t put you off indefinitely. At some point, you’ll go to the police and become a problem she can’t handle.”
“Now, with Bertram going after you…” Royce adds with a grimace.
I bark out a cold, caustic laugh that doesn’t even sound like it comes from me. “She’s jealous.” Another arctic snort that doesn’t feel like mine. “My mother tried to kill me because she’s fucking jealous.”
It would be hilarious if it wasn’t fucking insane .
Except I’m now bent over the table, laughing hysterically. Because obviously, this is what breaks me. This is the line from which I won’t return.
“My mother tried to kill me,” I wheeze out.
“Uhh.” Logan. “Is she okay?”
“Does she look fucking okay to you?” Grayson grinds out.
“Riley?” A hand rests against my upper arm.
My entire body continues to shake with laughter. The kind that signifies to those around them that you have fucking snapped. Spilled your marbles all over the floor. Warning! Warning! Get the straitjacket!
“I mean, who can say they were nearly murdered by their own mother?” Tears overflow and stream down my face. “What is that called? There must be a name for that. Like patricide but…”
“Filicide.”
Blinking through the film covering my eyes, I stare at Royce.
“That’s what it’s called—Filicide. Although technically, since she didn’t succeed, it doesn’t apply.”
“Yet. She didn’t succeed yet. ” Because Lydia James—or Van Doren, I guess—is anything if not persistent.
It’s that acknowledgment that zaps the energy from me. My shoulders slump. I deflate, and those cackles of laughter turn into sobs. Heavy, heart-wrenching sobs.
I shouldn’t be this upset, not after everything.
I’m not even sure that I am that upset. It’s more the shock of it all. The realization—not that I needed it—that I mean so little to my own mother. The woman who carried me in her womb for nine months. Who gave birth to me. Who raised me.
I would lay down my life for Aurora. Would willingly have done so from the moment those pink lines showed up on the pregnancy test.
So why could my mother never do the same for me?
What is so inherently wrong with me that my own mother would hate me so much that she would steal every ounce of happiness I try to obtain for myself?
“Hey, shush.” I’m wrapped up in strong arms as I’m carried from the room before being deposited on someone’s lap on the sofa. I inhale, breathing in the crisp scent of Logan’s body wash. The others settle around us while I sob quietly into Logan’s t-shirt—one he put on while I was showering. The entire time, Logan murmurs soothingly into my ear while Royce’s grounding presence presses in on my left side as he rubs calming circles up and down my back, and a smooth hand that can only belong to Grayson holds tightly onto mine, anchoring me.
Slowly, my wracking sobs turn to hiccupped whimpers until there is nothing but silence. The four of us sit in that silence. Words feel inadequate and unnecessary at this moment. They understand that nothing they can say will change what’s happened or make the pain disappear. All they can do is be here, and that’s precisely what they’re doing. Their unspoken support fills the room, making it clear that I’m not alone. And that’s all I truly need right now.
“She’s got no idea she sold my daughter to Bertram, does she?” My voice is hoarse, cracking over the syllables when I finally speak.
“I wouldn’t think so,” Royce answers softly.
“What a messed up twist of fate, that is.”
Logan snorts, still holding me firmly against him.
“How are we going to get her back?” I ask the room. While discussing how my mother paid some thug to hit me with his car, they haven’t once mentioned locating Aurora’s whereabouts, so I’m assuming we still don’t know.
That knowledge leaves me cold and empty. Perhaps I’d cry if I had any more tears left in me. As it stands, all I feel is hollow.
“Dax and Blue are working on it,” Royce assures me, his voice strong and steady. “They’ll have something for us soon.”
He sounds so sure, but I’m too numb to feel… anything.
“Dax had offered to… question Lydia.” Grayson’s statement rings like a bell in the otherwise quiet room. I shuffle so I’m looking directly at him. “We’d said no ’cause we were worried about my father finding out about Aurora…”
“We don’t need to question her anymore, do we?” My voice is small. Flat. Dead.
“I wasn’t thinking about questioning her.”
Pushing upright, I meet Grayson’s hard, unwavering stare. There’s no uncertainty there—only cold, hard determination.
Determination to keep me safe. To get revenge.
“Do it.”
Was that my voice, so sharp and deadly?
“Do it,” I repeat, pushing up from Logan’s chest. I don’t bother to wipe away the tears. I’m not ashamed of them. They aren’t a sign of weakness. They’re healing tears. Acceptance tears. Ones that needed to be shed to give way for strength. “But not Dax’s guys.” I glance at each of them. “Us. We do it. We go after Lydia. I want her to see that she failed. That she’ll continue to fail. That I’m fucking done yielding to her. We can use the video footage from campus and the driver she paid to keep her quiet.”
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Royce asks softly, even as determination blazes in the cold depths of those ice-blue eyes.
I hold his stare, letting him see the volition burning in mine. Then, I answer his question for all three of them to hear. “Yes.”