Chapter Seventeen
Jayla
Kissing Malachi created a new problem.
Before the kiss, I could classify him as a dangerous man I temporarily needed. He was controlling, secretive, occasionally terrifying, and far too comfortable carrying multiple weapons beneath tailored clothing.
After the kiss, he was still all those things.
Now I knew his mouth was soft.
That felt unnecessarily complicated.
I found him inside the kitchen the following morning, staring at two mugs of coffee as if they had personally disappointed him.
“Good morning,” I said.
His eyes moved to my lips before returning to my face.
“Morning.”
“Is something wrong with the coffee?”
“I don’t remember how you take it.”
“You could ask.”
“I am aware.”
“But instead, you made two different versions?”
“One has vanilla. The other has hazelnut.”
“Neither.”
His jaw tightened.
I opened the refrigerator and reached for the caramel creamer.
“This is why communication matters.”
“I ordered every flavor.”
I looked inside.
An entire shelf was filled with creamers.
“You bought a grocery store because you didn’t know what I liked?”
“I had someone buy it.”
“That is somehow worse.”
He handed me the plain mug.
Our fingers brushed.
We both noticed.
“So,” I said.
“So?”
“Are we going to discuss last night?”
“What about it?”
“You kissed me.”
“You kissed me first.”
“Are you assigning blame?”
“I’m establishing facts.”
I poured caramel into my coffee.
“It happened twice.”
“Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
His expression remained serious.
“I requested additional information.”
A laugh escaped me.
“I’m going to assume that means yes.”
“Did you?”
“I didn’t request a third sample.”
“You fell asleep.”
“Still.”
He stepped closer but left space between us.
“Would you like another sample?”
Heat traveled through me before common sense could stop it.
“Not while your entire family is downstairs.”
“They’re on the other side of the house.”
“You know that for certain?”
“I monitor my home.”
“That sentence killed the mood.”
His phone vibrated.
The moment disappeared.
Malachi read the message and handed me a folder.
“What is this?”
“The loan agreement for your studio.”
I opened it.
Every condition I requested was listed. No interest. No claim on my business. No creative control. Repayment wouldn’t begin until my accounts were released.
“You actually listened.”
“You sound surprised.”
“You announced our engagement without asking me.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
He looked at me.
“Before I understood that keeping you safe doesn’t give me the right to control you.”
I closed the folder.
“That sounds suspiciously healthy.”
“My therapist will be pleased.”
“Your therapist deserves a yacht.”
“I already offered. She refused.”
I couldn’t tell whether he was joking.
With Malachi, that was becoming part of the fun.
Nia Devereaux sat at the dining-room table surrounded by the four children she had left behind.
Nobody ate.
Noelle stared at her mother with tears filling her eyes. Micah refused to look at her. Asha held a legal pad as if she intended to cross-examine Nia before allowing herself to feel anything.
Malachi sat at the opposite end.
The empty space between him and his mother felt wider than the table.
I chose the chair beside Imani.
“This feels private,” I whispered.
“It is,” she replied. “But Simone threatened me when I tried to leave.”
Simone sat near Nia, watching everyone carefully.
“Start with the morning of the explosion,” Asha said.
Nia folded her hands.
“Your father learned Victor had discovered the archive. Sebastian planned to move us that evening.”
“You sent Malachi to school,” Noelle said.
“I wanted at least one of you outside the house.”
“Why only him?” Micah demanded.
“Because he was old enough to understand if something went wrong.”
Malachi’s face revealed nothing.
Nia continued.
“Sebastian wasn’t inside the car when it exploded. He had already gone to meet Lenora. The body the police identified belonged to his driver.”
Malachi leaned forward.
“My father survived?”
“For three days.”
Everyone stopped breathing.
“Where was he?” Malachi asked.
“At the winter garden.”
“You were with him?”
“Yes.”
“And you let us bury him without saying goodbye?”
“Victor controlled the police. We couldn’t risk bringing you there.”
Malachi stood so quickly his chair struck the floor.
“You could have brought me.”
“You were seventeen.”
“I was raising your children two weeks later!”
Nia’s face crumpled.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Malachi left the room.
Nobody tried to stop him.
I wanted to follow.
Instead, I remained because this family had spent years making him carry everything alone. Chasing him immediately might only give everyone another excuse to wait for him to return with their answers.
“What happened to Sebastian?” Asha asked.
“His injuries were too severe. Before he died, he gave Lenora the final records he had collected. Victor found me the following week.”
Nia rubbed her thumb against her finger.
“He told me he would kill all four of you if I returned. Lenora hid me and helped me challenge the custody order, but Victor had doctors declare me unstable.”
“You could’ve contacted us after Malachi killed Victor,” Micah said.
The room changed.
I looked at him.
“Killed?”
Nia closed her eyes.
Imani touched my arm.
“Maybe this isn’t—”
“No.” I looked at Asha. “What does he mean?”
Asha’s silence answered before anyone spoke.
Nia finally looked at me.
“Malachi arranged Victor’s death.”
The man whose company had been taken. The uncle he said died of heart failure. The murder he had conveniently discussed without using the word murder.
Another omission.
“Why didn’t you return afterward?” Noelle asked.
Nia’s tears fell.
“By then, Lenora had shown me what Malachi became.”
“What he became?” Asha repeated. “He became our parent.”
“I saw photographs. Reports. Men he had ordered killed.”
“You believed Lenora over your own son?”
“I believed Malachi no longer wanted me.”
Micah pushed back from the table.
“You didn’t ask.”
“I was ashamed.”
“You should be.”
He walked out.
Noelle followed him, crying.
Asha closed her legal pad.
“You’ll remain here until we find Rochelle. After that, I don’t know what relationship you expect from us.”
“I don’t expect anything.”
“That may be the first fair thing you’ve said.”
Asha left too.
Nia covered her face.
I wanted to feel sympathy for her. Part of me did.
Another part saw too much of my mother inside her excuses.
“Malachi spent seventeen years believing you abandoned him,” I said.
“I thought staying away protected them.”
“Maybe it did in the beginning.”
Nia lowered her hands.
“But not after Victor died,” I continued. “After that, you stayed away because facing them would’ve been hard.”
Her eyes filled again.
“I didn’t know how to come back.”
“You start by showing up.”
I left before she could answer.
Malachi wasn’t inside his bedroom or office.
I found him in the estate’s private gym, hitting a heavy bag without gloves. Blood marked his knuckles.
I stayed near the entrance.
“You lied to me.”
He struck the bag again.
“I omitted.”
“Do not use that word today.”
Another punch.
“Did you kill Victor?”
“Yes.”
The direct answer stopped some of my anger.
Not all of it.
“How?”
“I arranged for him to be poisoned.”
“Why?”
“He murdered my father. He threatened my mother, trafficked women through our ports, and told me my siblings would disappear if I continued investigating.”
“So you executed him.”
“Yes.”
He hit the bag again.
“Do you regret it?”
“No.”
The answer frightened me.
The honesty steadied me.
Both could be true.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You never asked whether I killed him.”
“That is a ridiculous excuse.”
“I didn’t know how you would see me afterward.”
“So you decided for me.”
He stopped.
Blood ran across his fingers.
“Yes.”
“You keep promising not to control me, but withholding the truth controls the choices I make about you.”
His breathing remained heavy.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I do now.”
I retrieved a towel and held it out.
He looked at my hand.
“You aren’t afraid of me?” he asked.
“I didn’t say that.”
His face hardened.
“I’m afraid of what you’re capable of,” I continued. “I’m not afraid you’ll hurt me.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Trust.”
He accepted the towel.
“I don’t expect you to approve.”
“I don’t.”
“Do you want to end our arrangement?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Pain flickered through his eyes before disappearing.
“That’s fair.”
I hated that he accepted the possibility without trying to pressure me.
It made walking away more difficult.
“Let me see your hands.”
“I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
He held them out.
I cleaned his knuckles while he watched me.
“If there are other bodies you forgot to mention, now would be a wonderful time.”
“There are.”
I stopped.
“Malachi.”
“You requested honesty.”
“How many?”
“Do you want an exact number?”
“No. I changed my mind.”
His mouth moved slightly.
“This is not funny.”
“I didn’t laugh.”
“Your face tried.”
My phone chimed.
A message from Micah appeared.
Everyone to the security room. We found the Saint Lucia leak.
Malachi and I arrived together.
Micah held an electronic scanner beside my engagement ring.
A red light flashed.
“What is that?” I asked.
“A transmitter.”
I pulled the ring from my finger.
“Someone bugged the ring?”
“The signal activates when it detects voices,” Micah explained. “It transmitted every conversation near Jayla.”
Malachi took it carefully.
“This came from my family vault.”
“The setting was altered recently,” Micah said. “The jeweler’s records show Julian removed it three weeks before the engagement announcement.”
That explained how Bishop knew about the duplicate keys.
Our arguments.
Our plans.
Potentially every private conversation Malachi and I had shared.
“Can we use it?” I asked.
Micah smiled.
“Now you’re thinking like a Devereaux.”
“I take offense to that.”
Malachi placed the ring on the table.
“We feed Lenora false information.”
“About what?” Dorian asked.
I thought about Grandma’s warning.
Trust Kenzie only after she sacrifices something she cannot replace.
“Kenzie,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
“She still has access to Bishop’s accounts. We make Lenora believe Kenzie is delivering the original archive and keys.”
“Kenzie won’t agree,” Malachi said.
“Let her decide.”
He looked at me.
There it was again—the instinct to protect by controlling.
Then he nodded.
“Call her.”
Kenzie appeared on-screen from the protected medical facility. Her face was pale, and her arm remained secured in a sling.
I explained the plan.
“You want me to meet Lenora?” she asked.
“We want her to believe you’re meeting one of her people,” I said.
“And if they take me again?”
“We won’t let them,” Dorian replied.
Kenzie looked at Malachi.
“You promise?”
“No,” he answered. “I promise we’ll prepare for every possibility. Anyone promising perfect safety is lying.”
Kenzie absorbed that.
“What do I have to do?”
“Give up your access to Bishop’s offshore accounts,” Micah said. “We transfer everything to a federal evidence account. Once you do, the money is gone.”
“How much?” I asked.
Kenzie looked down.
“Almost four million.”
More money than she could spend in a lifetime.
More money than she had betrayed me to obtain.
“If you cooperate,” Asha said, “I may negotiate a reduced sentence. I cannot promise you’ll avoid prison.”
Kenzie’s eyes found mine through the screen.
“If I do this, will you forgive me?”
“No.”
Her face fell.
“But I’ll believe some part of our friendship was real.”
She closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she nodded.
“Take the money.”
For the first time since learning the truth, I believed Kenzie had chosen someone besides herself.