Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
REBECCA
Today is our sixth day at Oakleigh, and my initial discomfort has vanished. Isla has settled into life here as though she was born to it, and every person we’ve met, from the family to the housekeeping staff, to the bodyguards who patrol the estate each night and day, have been incredibly kind.
When Tobias first suggested I become his assistant, I’d suspected he didn’t really need one, and it turns out he doesn’t. I’ve met his assistant a couple of times, and she’s got everything he needs handled. I should be annoyed at him for lying to me, but his intentions were good.
It’s funny. I don’t think of us as strangers any longer. Tobias works incredibly hard to make sure our paths don’t cross all that often, but he still feels more like a friend. This entire family works hard, and I’m starting to feel like a spare part.
I’ll be honest, though, I’m enjoying the time and space to rediscover who I am. Five years of marriage to Marcus had me constantly on edge, picking my way through eggshells, terrified one would crack and bring his rage down on me.
I shudder. The memories of those years have scarred me deeply. I doubt they’ll ever go away, even ten, fifteen, fifty years from now. But Oakleigh is so peaceful, and precisely what Isla and I needed to stop jumping out of our skin at the slightest noise.
I’ve thought deeply about Tobias’s therapy suggestion.
The idea of him forking out more money over and above the legal fees to fight the La Salles doesn’t sit right, but Isla needs this.
The trauma she’s suffered because of Marcus could affect her future in ways I can’t even fathom right now.
As much as I’m prideful, I cannot allow that pride to get in the way of the help Isla needs.
At least while we’re living behind gates guarded by armed guards, the La Salles can’t get to us.
And as Isla’s not due to start school for months, leaving the sanctuary of Oakleigh isn’t something I have to worry about.
Tobias and his family have made it clear we’re welcome to stay as long as I wish us to, but I’ve already made up my mind.
As soon as Felicity and Preston are off my back, I’m leaving.
It’s unfair of me to foist myself and my child on a family who’ve shown me this much kindness for a second longer than is absolutely necessary.
Isla stirs in her bed, then burrows beneath the covers.
I’ll leave her for another half hour or so, then wake her up, or I risk her not sleeping tonight.
After the first few days of disturbed sleep, both of us have virtually passed out each evening.
I think we’re catching up on years of fitful rest, always with one ear cocked for signs of danger.
For the first time in my twenty-three years, I feel safe. With Mum, I never knew if she’d fly into an alcoholic rage. My brother, when he wasn’t in jail, was always bringing his creepy friends back to the house. Then I met Marcus and thought I’d escaped all of that. How wrong I was.
I’m doom scrolling an online news app when an article catches my attention. I zoom in, my eyes bugging out. You have got to be kidding me.
The La Salles are offering a reward to anyone who finds out where I’m living.
They’re basically accusing me of kidnapping my own daughter and preventing them from seeing their dead son’s child.
It goes on and on. Marcus, the hero. Me, the scheming bitch who married above her station, who showed her gratitude for being dragged out of the gutter by getting him killed.
I’ve always known they thought their precious Marcus was too good for a working-class girl from a council estate, but this level of persecution and vitriol is something I did not expect, and I don’t know what to do.
There’s still no news from Tobias’s solicitor on the custody front, and despite Tobias’s buoyant insistence that he can make this go away, I’m beginning to lose hope. Felicity is a determined woman who won’t stop until either the law stops her, or she gains custody of Isla.
A soft tapping at the outer door that leads to the hallway forces me to put my phone down. Isla’s still fast asleep. I peel back the covers and pad into the living room, closing the door behind me, then go to see who it is. The sight of Tobias’s cheerful grin should bolster my spirits.
Instead, I burst into tears.
His grin vanishes. “What’s wrong?”
Stuffing the balls of my hands into my eyes, I shake my head.
“Rebecca, talk to me. Can I come in?”
That he asks for consent for every tiny thing only makes me cry harder. It’s impossible to ignore how he doesn’t touch me, either. He doesn’t pull me into a hug or invade my personal space, just offers quiet strength and compassion.
Nodding, I step back. After taking a few deep breaths and blowing my nose, I sink onto the couch and drop my head into my hands.
“The La Salles are offering a reward to find out where I am. There’s this horrible article about me. They’re making Marcus out to be perfect and painting me as the wicked witch who as good as murdered him.”
The levity I’ve come to know him for vanishes. His features darken, eyes narrowing, brows sinking low. He slides his phone from his trouser pocket and taps on the screen a few times. I can tell when he finds the article because a flash of fury crosses his face.
“I know, right? They’re not going to give up. Not ever. And they’ll win, I know they will.”
He puts his phone on the arm of the couch and sits next to me, leaving plenty of space between us. “They won’t win.”
“You can’t say that, Tobias. Judges only take the safety of the child into consideration, and if the La Salles can convince them I’m some kind of unstable, almost-murderer, while they’re this upstanding family who serve in His Majesty’s Government, I’m toast. I can’t lose her. I can’t.”
Another flood of tears trek down my face.
I can’t even find the energy to brush them away, so I just let them fall.
Tobias sits quietly, probably waiting for me to pull myself together and regretting his life choices in bringing me here in the first place.
But when I stop bawling and pluck up the courage to look at him, his expression is filled with understanding, sympathy, and a determination I’m envious of.
“I’m sorry. I’m so useless.”
“You are not useless. Far from it. Please don’t talk shit about yourself. Your brain does not know the difference. You are a wonderful mother who has brought up an incredible daughter in the most difficult of circumstances. That is not useless. Not even close.”
It’s hard not to be down on myself when others have talked shit about me my entire life, but I don’t say that aloud.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“Oh?” My stomach sinks to the floor.
“Is Isla likely to interrupt us?”
Oh, look. It hadn’t hit the floor before. It has now. What if he’s here to ask me to leave? Says I’m too much trouble, too emotional, carrying too much baggage?
“She’s flat out. I think we’re both catching up on much-needed sleep. Why?” I lick my lips and swallow. My throat is as dry as sand.
“Because I have a proposal to make. Just hear me out, because your first instinct will probably be to tell me I’ve lost my mind.”
This is the least collected I’ve seen Tobias in the short time I’ve known him. He was calmer than this with a gun pointed at his chest. My nerves surge, my palms sticky with sweat.
“Okay.”
“It was Xan’s idea, and my father happens to agree with him. I scoffed at first, but I’ve had some time to think about it, and of course, you can take a few days, a week, a month to think about it, too.”
He’s rambling, and my nerves aren’t surging now. They’re flatlining.
“Please just say it, whatever it is.”
“Marry me.”
There’s a delay, a kind of glitch where my brain can’t process what he’s just said. I open my mouth, shut it, open it, shut it again. When I find my voice, the only word that comes out is, “Huh?”
“It’s ridiculous, I know, but the more I think about it, the more it sounds like the perfect solution. Once you take my name, the La Salles power will vanish. They won’t dare go up against my family.”
“But… but…” I shake my head. This can’t be real. Am I dreaming? “Marcus died two and a half weeks ago. I can’t possibly marry you. Thanks to Felicity, the press already thinks I’m unhinged. Even if I thought this was a good idea, which I don’t, marrying you this soon… they’ll vilify me.”
“No, they won’t. Our PR department will spin this. Trust me, we’ll take care of everything.”
He’s lost his mind. He must have. “Why would you marry a woman you hardly know? You’re giving up a chance of a happy marriage with someone you love for a stranger.”
“Because this agreement benefits me as well as you.”
“How?”
He straightens his cuffs, his gaze sliding to the window. After a beat, he shakes his head. “I don’t want to go into details. Please just believe me when I say I am getting far more out of this deal than you are.”
A snort almost bursts out of me. I stop it in the nick of time. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s the truth.” He gazes into my eyes, his swimming with sincerity. “I will never outright lie to you, Rebecca. I might explain that I’d rather keep certain private thoughts to myself, but tell you a straight lie? No.”
I rub my face. “My head is spinning.”
“Mine was, too, when Xan first proposed this. I almost had him sectioned.” He grins.
“Why did he, though? What was the catalyst?”
“Here’s one of those truths I promised you.” He glances over his shoulder at the bedroom door and, satisfied we’re still alone, looks back at me.