45. Rosenna
Chapter forty-five
Rosenna
S itting in a conference room with Vincent, Beckham, and Kira, discussing my divorce, felt almost unreal. If someone had told me months ago that I would have an affair and end up divorcing my husband after he attempted to extort money from me to pay off his debt, I would have never believed them.
But now, sitting with the evidence compiled over the last week or so, reality was surely settling in. Trying not to spiral seemed like more of a challenge as I was reminded daily of the people I so desperately wanted to forget.
My beloved father, unfortunately, sent me a “save the date” given he and my mother needed to head back home soon, and I was avoiding both them and the upcoming family gathering like the plague. I could no longer put off going as they continued rescheduling solely for the purpose of me being present.
I was slowly beginning to think this would be less of a get-together and more of an intervention for me and my new addiction to the man beside me, who was shamelessly holding onto my thigh possessively.
Saying Gavin and I weren’t on good terms with my father, or going through a “rough patch,” as he had described it, may have been the understatement of the year, considering I would gladly be on all fours for my personal incubus.
Vincent explained, “Your soon-to-be ex-husband, Rosenna, is going to play the game the same way we do. If we go the blackmail route, we feed the media your reputation for the next two to three years when he inevitably leaks the videos he has. If we go the legal route, he and Mr. Sullivan are going to exhaust every option within the law they can come up with in their firm to stay in control of you, your assets, and your profits.”
Kira shook her head. “If I know Gaslight Gavin like I think I do, he’ll come up with a way to screw us all over if he can. His ego won’t let him do anything else.”
Earlier, I’d informed them Brent wanted to discuss something, though we collectively decided I should stay away from him. It wasn’t known what his intent was to speak to me, but I didn’t truly care to find out.
“Where do we go from here?” I asked, and Vincent tilted his head.
“Mr. Johnson has already shown us he isn’t willing to play by the rules or play fair. Unluckily for him, I happen to know a few people who aren’t afraid to get their hands a bit dirty…”
His phone rang as if on cue, and a smile came to his face.
“Right on time.”
He answered as he stood up, and I sent worried glances to both Kira and Beckham.
“ Killian Russel. It’s been a while since we’ve spoken… How is the family?” My eyes widened as he laughed at Killian’s response. “That’s good to hear. I was actually looking to ask a favor from you… well, from Newman—”
Beckham stood up abruptly before he grabbed the phone from his father and ended the call.
“I’m sorry… am I missing something?” I muttered in confusion.
Beckham’s jaw clenched. “The Russels are notorious for having people who threaten their circle disappear. Gavin is lucky their family serial killer doesn’t know his name.”
“Mr. Garcia, you can not call a hitman on my husband,” I said, my eyes wide in surprise.
Kira shrugged beside me. “Why not? He’s going low. We should go lower.”
“Precisely my thought, Kira,” Vincent agreed.
I looked between the both of them in shock. Beckham seemed to be the only one with common sense.
“Actually…” Kira began before she let out a sigh. “We can’t do anything too abrupt yet. He’s expected to be at the family gathering coming up.”
Vincent nodded. “Afterward, then. If our progress is stunted, then we’ll plan. How does that sound, Ms. Hart?”
“It sounds absolutely ludicrous—”
Beckham cut me off. “Fine. But nothing falls on her if it goes south. You’ll be responsible for cleaning up the aftermath.”
I could only hold my head in my hands as I let out an exasperated breath.
After a moment, I stood, grabbing my belongings.
“Where are you going?” Kira asked.
“I am already on the brink of losing my sanity. Listening to you all plan Gavin’s death won’t make me any better.”
Beckham grabbed my purse from my hand before placing his on the small part of my back as we exited the conference room.
“So Mr. Garcia is treading carefully in the legal waters of my divorce, but killing the man would hold less repercussions?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Billionaires have their strengths and weaknesses, lawyers too. Gavin can drag this thing out for years, and obviously, my father is no stranger to well-thought-out lawsuits or allegations. Removing him from the equation would be easier, and cost us less in legal fees. But your shitty husband will be fine. Despite me wanting him dead, I won’t let my father go that route.” He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear as he placed a small kiss on my temple. “Get some fresh air, then head back to the office. Let me take care of these two.”
Placing a small kiss on his lips, I grabbed my bag before heading to the elevator.
Part of me was ecstatic at the idea of Gavin being permanently out of my life, but annoyingly, there was a part of me, a stupid but still rational part, that didn’t want to see him dead despite all he’s done. And maybe that makes me a good person, but in reality, I know it’s just the years of feeling like I owed something to him stopping me.
After taking Beckham up on his suggestion, I found the rest of my day was relatively relaxing, despite me watching Kira pout endlessly as she was annoyed that Gaslight Gavin wasn’t going to be fully kicked to the curb.
Currently, in my car, I was planning to make my way to Beckham’s. However, I reluctantly found myself passing by my old home, parking in the driveway.
I always wondered what it would look like to see our children running through the yard. The memory is somewhat distant now, not filling my heart in any way that it previously did.
Stepping out of my car, I hesitated as I walked toward the door of what used to be my home. Thankfully, Gavin wasn’t here, but I was sure I wouldn’t have much time to reminisce and grab a few more of my things to take to Beckham’s.
After entering the quiet home, I ascended the steps, sighing as I gazed over to the guest bedroom, which was my refuge when my fights got bad with Gavin. It was my safe space in the home that should’ve been a safe space already.
Thinking back to the number of times I found myself in this room, I tried not to rationalize why I thought fighting once a week and sleeping separately every other week was a relationship worth fighting for, worth crying endless nights over.
Grabbing a bag, I went into my closet to gather more of my belongings. Thankfully, Gavin wasn’t too petty to throw out my clothes or rip and burn them like I probably would’ve done to him after I reached my breaking point.
I couldn’t look at the bed as my mind raced with the thoughts of Beckham and me creasing the sheets—and Gavin potentially doing the same with Jessica.
Stepping out of the bedroom, ignoring the negativity, I descended the steps and paused as the key in the door turned before it was pushed open.
I fully expected to lock eyes on Gavin, however the man I’d actively been told to ignore turned around and made eye contact with me, genuine surprise in his eyes.
“Rosenna…” Brent muttered.
I gulped. Brent stood right between me and my escape.
Deciding to make my getaway, or at least attempt it, I descended the stairs and turned down the hall to the patio sliding door.
Brent followed behind me quickly. Before I could get far, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “Wait, we need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you, Brent,” I seethed.
“What are you even doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m getting some of my stuff. I wasn’t planning on burning the place down, don’t worry,” I muttered, pulling out of his hold.
He rolled his eyes, walking closer as I went for the door once again. “Rose, don’t be like that.”
“Like what? A bitter wife who’s tired of being tossed around? A bitch? A little bit of both?” I asked, finally sliding the door open. However, Brent immediately closed it.
The audacity of him standing between me and the door, like I owed him a conversation. Like I owed him anything.
“Would you fucking stop for once?” he seethed.
I scoffed. “I’m not the one forcing you to talk to your friend’s soon-to-be ex-wife.”
Holding his temples between his fingers as he let out a sigh, he spoke, his words continuing to make my irritation skyrocket. “Rosenna, just give me five minutes to talk, that’s all I need.”
“You have two,” I uttered, unimpressed.
He removed his hand from the door as he ran it through his hair.
I could feel the heat of his body in front of me, close enough that I caught the faint scent of his cologne, something darker, heavier than the one Gavin used to wear. It was grounding and suffocating all at once.
“You shouldn’t go through with the divorce.”
I blinked twice. “One minute and forty-five seconds.”
“Things weren’t supposed to play out like this.”
I smiled sarcastically. “Oh, you mean the threat of being outed as a backstabbing whore of a wife that cheated on her husband wasn’t supposed to be the result of going through with the divorce?”
“Rosenna, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“Please enlighten me then.” I crossed my arms. “Because it seems like you and Gavin want me to ignore all that he’s done and patch things up like it’s my responsibility to forgive and forget.”
“I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking you to make the right decision.”
“And in your mind, the right decision would be to stay with a man who doesn’t value me instead of the one who does?”
Brent’s jaw ticked slightly, a hint of distaste peeking through his voice. “Garcia doesn’t deserve you.”
“And you think Gavin does?”
Brent’s eyes seemed to darken, another emotion floating around with the anger that showed through them.
“Gavin… doesn’t deserve you either.”
I furrowed my eyebrows. “Well, if you have all the answers, then who deserves me, Brent? Who do I deserve to be with?”
The silence was deafening.
Brent opened and closed his mouth like he was struggling to speak—and immediately I understood exactly what was holding him back. The words he couldn’t bring himself to say were written all over his face, in the tension of his jaw, the way his eyes avoided mine.
And as the silence thickened, I silently wished I’d never been curious as to what his answer would be.