Chapter Thirty
EVELYN
We managed to get an early morning flight.
The girls slept most of the way, and when they woke, we did our best to explain what had happened to an aunt they had never met, using the simplest, gentlest words we could find.
It was obvious to me that even this—the fact of their unfamiliarity with his family—pained Logan with a fresh wave of guilt.
Camila picked us up at the airport, and I gave her a long, tight hug.
She was deeply shaken. I knew she had loved Bonnie dearly and had always held onto hope for her recovery.
The truth was, no one had expected the complications from a surgery that was supposed to be one of the final steps in her treatment.
From the airport, Camila drove us to Logan's apartment. After we dropped our things off, she left for her mother-in-law's house to pick up Alice. The four of us ordered lunch for the girls—neither Logan nor I had any appetite.
A practical problem arose: the girls owned nothing black.
Their wardrobes were a reflection of their strong personalities and well-defined tastes—predominantly blue for Anna and pink for Aurora, a preference their mother had clearly respected.
We scrambled and managed to find two pairs of jeans, white sneakers, a gray blouse with pink accents for Aurora, and a navy blue one for Anna.
It was the closest we could get to somber.
After getting them ready, we showered and dressed ourselves. We left the apartment and headed straight for the cemetery.
At the wake, Trinity was practically clinging to her granddaughter, Alice, and insisted that Anna and Aurora stay close to her as well.
Logan sat in the front row beside Michael and a devastated Sebastian, his brother's sobs wracking his shoulders as Logan held him.
I sat a few rows back with Camila, holding my best friend's hand while she cried, her head resting on my shoulder.
Besides family and close friends, a few journalists were present, taking photos. I found it intrusive, but the Turners seemed accustomed to it, a silent testament to the public nature of their lives.
“This is so unfair, Evy…” Camila repeated, her voice thick with tears.
“I know, Cami. I know.”
There wasn't much else to say. The tradition of speeches began. Bonnie's father spoke first, though he couldn't finish. Her mother, like Sebastian, was unable to speak. Trinity and Michael said a few words, as did some of Bonnie's friends. It was a long, heavy ceremony.
When it ended, people began to stand and disperse into small, murmuring groups. Camila moved away to collect Alice from her grandmother.
I remained, my gaze drifting to the three brothers. Sebastian was broken, his head bowed, his body trembling with anguish as Michael and Logan flanked him, their hands on his back in silent, steadfast support.
My attention was pulled away by a flicker of movement near a cluster of trees. At first, I glanced absently, assuming it was a latecomer or someone visiting another grave. It took less than a second for recognition to slam into me.
He was much thinner, his beard grown out, but I would have known him anywhere.
A cold wave of pure fear washed through me. Our breakup had been tumultuous, but I'd never felt this specific, primal dread for Peter before. Something in him had shifted; I'd heard it in his voice during our last call. Seeing him in person, that change was terrifyingly evident.
He stopped behind a tree, turning his head just enough to lock eyes with me. He raised his hand, showing me the cell phone he held, and gave it a little shake before bringing it to his ear.
At that exact moment, my phone vibrated in my purse.
I walked quickly away from the chairs, putting distance between myself and the mourners before answering. “What are you doing here?” I hissed.
“I saw the news about your fake boyfriend’s sister-in-law. I had a feeling you’d show up.”
“I’m not playing games, Peter. Get out of here, or I’ll call security and have the police escort you out.”
“Go ahead. We can give the journalists here a much bigger story than a funeral. Let’s tell them all how you’re not the mother of those two cute little girls.”
Even from this distance, I saw his gaze slide from me to where the girls stood with their grandmother. My panic spiked, sharp and cold.
“Take your eyes off them,” I snarled, my voice low and venomous. “Don’t you dare take one step closer to them, or I’ll—”
“Or you’ll what?” He laughed, his eyes snapping back to me. “Seriously, Evy? Playing the overprotective mother? They are nothing to you.”
He was so wrong. Those girls were everything to me. In that moment, I knew with chilling certainty that I would tear him apart with my bare hands if he so much as looked at them again.
“What do you want, Peter?” My voice was taut with barely controlled rage. “I gave you what you wanted. I know the check cleared.”
“It did. And you know… you gave it to me so easily. No negotiation, no argument… It made me realize that fifty thousand was just a drop in the bucket for you now. There’s so much more where that came from.”
A sickening realization dawned. I’d been so desperate to make him disappear; I hadn't considered that my compliance would only whet his appetite. I had shown him a well, and now he had come back with a bigger bucket.
My immediate, desperate instinct was to give him whatever he asked for—to offer every last penny from my deal with Logan if it would make him vanish for good.
But I knew that would be a catastrophic mistake. If he’d blown through fifty thousand in days, any new sum would vanish just as fast. He would keep coming back, a leech with a bottomless appetite, until I had nothing left. And then what would he demand?
I should have told Logan the first time Peter called. But I’d thought it was settled, that fifty thousand would buy our peace. My gaze drifted to Logan, still comforting his grieving brother. Now was not the time. Once again, I had to handle this myself.
“You’re right,” I said, my voice cold as I looked back at Peter. “I have more. But not much.”
“For now, I’ll settle for five hundred thousand.”
A desperate, naive part of me screamed to just agree. But the rational part knew better—this would never end. He would bleed me dry, and then what?
“Are you insane?” I bluffed. “I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Oh, you do. And if you don’t, you’ll find it. You’re sleeping with a millionaire, Evy. I’m sure he’s showered you with jewelry by now. Get me some.”
“Jewelry?”
“Isn’t that how rich men pay for their personal whores?”
“Shut your mouth, you piece of shit,” I snarled. My insult only made him laugh, a raw, jagged sound. And that’s when it clicked. “Are you on drugs?”
“Look, I just sell, okay? …Fine, maybe I started using a little after you left, but it’s under control.”
“You sell drugs? Did you sell them when we were together?”
“Some clients took forever to pay… some bastards skipped town and left me holding the bag. I had to pay my supplier, or he’d end me.”
“Is that what you spent all my money on?”
“After I cleaned out your account, I had nothing left! I started buying expensive things with your card to use as payment. I was going to pay you back as soon as my clients did!”
“You… what?” A wave of nauseating horror washed over me. “You were selling drugs out of our home?”
The risks I had unknowingly taken crashed down on me. The police could have raided our apartment. I could have been arrested as an accomplice. Or worse, one of his suppliers or clients could have come to settle a score with violence.
“The easy money was tempting. It still is. I just need to pay off my debt, and then I’ll get it all back.”
“No one is going to pay you, you idiot! You’re in over your head. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“I’m in too deep to back out now, Evy.”
“So deep you’re asking me for half a million? I told you, I don’t have it.”
“Fine. Have it your way.”
He stepped out from behind the tree and started walking toward the funeral. My blood ran cold.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, my voice trembling. “Stop right there, or I’ll—”
“I have nothing to lose. I’ll tell them everything right now. Give me the five hundred thousand, and I walk away.”
“Stop… Just stop!” But he kept advancing, closing the distance. He was only a few feet away from the mourners. Panic seized me. “Okay! Okay, I’ll get you the money!”
He halted, a twisted half-smile on his face. “You know the address.”
Then he ended the call, turned, and walked away.
I sank into a chair, my hands shaking uncontrollably. A cold certainty settled in my bones: this was not over. It was only beginning.
Camila returned to me then, Alice in her arms. She took one look at my face and knew.
“Evy? What’s wrong?”
I could only nod, pointing a trembling finger toward the man disappearing toward the cemetery gates.
“It’s Peter,” I whispered.