Chapter 32
ASHTON
After bringing Bailey back to her cottage, I finally decided to pay Lynda a visit.
She had been calling nonstop, and my anger had been building ever since I learned what she did to Marie’s shop.
Seeing her ridicule Bailey at the country club, surrounded by her friends, shattered the last of my restraint.
Now I stood in front of Lynda’s two story townhouse, tucked into a quiet, well kept neighborhood.
It struck me that I had never been inside.
I had always dropped her off and left. Occasionally, she showed up at my house, usually to talk about plans for social gatherings.
The realization made me note that I needed to change the access code to my own place.
She rarely visited, yet she had always moved through my life as if everything I owned already belonged to her.
I knocked. Movement stirred inside. The door unlocked.
Lynda stood there in her pajamas, hair loose, face bare. She froze when she saw me, surprise flickering across her eyes before she forced herself to breathe.
“Let’s talk, Lynda.”
She stepped aside. “Come in, Ashton.”
Without her makeup, designer clothes, and dark glasses, she looked exposed. Vulnerable in a way I had never seen before.
“Do you want a drink?” she asked.
“I am not here for that,” I said. “I am here to give you one chance to confess what you did to the bakery. Your revenge has gone too far. You wanted my attention. You have it.”
Her lips trembled. “It is a little late, isn’t it? I tried to meet you. You blocked me.”
“I already said everything the other day.”
She laughed bitterly. “You played me the entire time while I was planning our wedding. No wonder you never cared. You kept your distance.”
“You should have read the signs,” I replied. “You only pushed for a real marriage after you heard Marie left her bakery to Bailey. You knew it was only a matter of time before she came back.”
Her laughter sharpened. “So you let me make a fool of myself over a girl from your past.”
“She was never just a girl,” I said. “She is the mother of my son. A truth you chose not to reveal. Worse, you pressured Bailey to abort my child.”
As I spoke, my gaze drifted around the living room. It was neat, carefully arranged. Then I saw the photos lined along the shelves. Too many of them. Lynda and me at galas, lunches, social events. Perfect angles. Professional shots.
I picked one up.
We looked like lovers. She was laughing, eyes bright, her hand resting on my shoulder.
“Do we look good together?” she said softly as she stepped closer. “This was taken after we announced our engagement. You looked so at ease, like I lifted the weight of your family business from you.”
“No,” I said flatly. “I was pretending to laugh because the board was watching.”
“Photos never lie,” she insisted. “Look at them. We were happy. People admired us.”
I was about to shut her down when something caught my eye. A photo hidden behind the others. I set the frame in my hand down and pulled it free.
Lynda stiffened.
My blood rushed violently.
It was a photo of me asleep on a bed, my bare back exposed, a white sheet draped low over my waist.
“When did you take this?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“You don’t remember?” she whispered. “It was the morning after we spent the night together at the hotel.”
“You took this without my knowledge.”
“I couldn’t help it,” she said, eyes shining. “You looked so peaceful. That night was the best night of my life. I fell in love with you then. Meeting you again was fate. I only needed to make you see that we were meant to be together.”
Something inside me broke.
I smashed the frame onto the floor. Glass exploded across the tiles. Lynda startled.
“There is no us,” I said coldly. “That night was the worst mistake of my life.”
I grabbed another photo and hurled it down. Then another. Frames shattered. Lynda screamed, begging me to stop.
Then I saw the crystal swans on the shelf. My gift. The one she had flaunted to her friends at her birthday party, believing it proved my devotion. She never knew I had not even chosen it myself.
I walked toward the shelf.
“Please,” she sobbed, rushing forward. “You are angry, I understand, but let me keep the only thing you ever gave me.”
I remembered her cruel words to Bailey.
I released the crystal.
It shattered effortlessly.
“That was for calling my son a bastard.”
I headed for the door.
“I’m giving you three days,” I said. “Leave this town.”
Her crying stopped. “What?”
“Pack your things. Quit your job. Say goodbye to your friends. The movers are already arranged.”
“You cannot do this,” she said, standing abruptly. “This is my hometown.”
“If you stay, I will release the evidence of you and Donna approaching those kids in the alley,” I replied. “There is camera footage. My lawyers have secured it. Donna is ready to testify. Angela too.”
Her eyes widened in terror.
“I will clear Bailey’s name and tell the truth about what happened eight years ago,” I continued. “She will get her justice, even if I have to face the consequences of my own actions.”
I turned to leave when her voice broke behind me.
“You want the truth?” Lynda said hoarsely. “I hated you at first. Not you, really. Your father. His company threw my family out of our home in the middle of the night. No warning. No mercy. He wanted the land.”
I stopped but did not turn.
“Then I learned you were dating Bailey,” she continued. “I started to hate you both. I saw my chance when you broke up.”
I was breathing hard, my hand already on the handle, but I let her keep talking.
“I saw you years later,” she said. “I hesitated. I almost walked away. But I thought it was my chance. I wanted to break you even more. I wanted you to hurt the way my family did.”
Her voice trembled. “I approached you to ruin you. To make sure you never healed from that heartbreak.”
Silence stretched between us.
“But then we became close,” she said softly. “And I stayed. Not because of revenge anymore. Because I wanted what you had. The respect. The power. The world that looked down on people like me.”
I finally understood.
She had never loved me.
She loved the status. The acceptance. The control.
I turned back to face her.
“I am sorry for what my father did to your family,” I said quietly. “You did not deserve it. But that does not excuse what you have done. This ends now. I wish you the best, Lynda. You have three days to leave.”
Her shoulders collapsed. Whatever fight she had left drained away.
I walked out and closed the door behind me.
The night air was cold. The sky stretched wide and dark above me.
For the first time in a long while, I breathed freely.
It was over.
And I was ready to move on.