Chapter 12
TWELVE
Ariana
Christian really did live on a farm. Not just a house with a big yard, but an actual farm, with sheep scattered across the pastures, an old barn painted a deep shade of red, and fences that looked like a stiff breeze might take them down. What the hell was he doing here?
“Are you sure we’re at the right address, Toby?” I asked.
Toby, the man I kept on retainer to get me all the information I needed, stood beside me and muttered,
“I wasn’t sure at first, but then I knocked on his door, pretending to look for someone. The guy who answered looked exactly like the one in the picture you showed me. I said I was looking for someone named Guy, and he told me he lives alone—no one named Guy there.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Everything about it baffled me.
Christian’s family might not have been as wealthy or as affluent as the Mercers, but they still lived in one of the most upscale parts of town.
He and his brothers all went to private school, which was definitely not cheap.
He was the epitome of a spoiled rich boy—partied too much, drank too much, hooked up with girls like it was a sport, and never once, in all the time I knew him, so much as lifted a finger to work.
This was a huge departure from the person he used to be.
“Are you going to go inside?” Toby asked. “Want me to come with you?”
“No. I’ll be fine,” I replied, turning to him. “But do you want me to drop you off at that coffee shop we passed earlier?”
He shook his head.
“I’ll walk. It’s not far, and I need to kill some time while I wait for you.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks. I’ll pick you up there after.”
“Sure.” He turned around, his long hair sweeping through the air as he moved. “Call me if you need anything. And be careful.”
“I will,” I said, my eyes drifting back to the farm.
After taking a deep breath, I walked down the path toward the fence, unlatched it, and continued along the stone walkway to the front door. Sounds were coming from inside—clattering, the faint sizzle of something cooking.
If that was Christian cooking, then this was a full-blown transformation. Maybe I had the wrong Christian.
There was only one way to find out. I knocked on the door.
The sounds inside stopped.
But no one came.
So I knocked again.
Then I heard footsteps—loud, hurried, as if someone were running.
A moment later, I saw movement through the curtain beside the door. Someone was peeking out, but all I caught were reflections in the glass. I couldn’t tell if it was Christian.
And then the door opened.
I held my breath.
And there he was—the man who ruined my life.
It was really him.
Christian stood there, his eyes finding mine with an ease that unsettled me—no surprise softening his features, no confusion flickering behind his gaze, only a quiet, steady calm, as though he had been expecting me all along.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, saying nothing.
My mind flashed back to that night—how he had shattered everything, dismantled every good thing I had built, every good thing I had loved. Christian was the reason it all began. He lit the match.
But Grayson held the knife, and when the moment came, he didn’t hesitate. He drove it in himself, without a second thought, without a tremor of remorse.
That part was entirely his own.
“Christian.” My voice came out strained.
“Ariana,” he whispered.
“Well,” I cleared my throat. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “But I’ve been expecting you.”
My eyebrows lifted. “You have?”
He nodded.
“I heard you were back. And when that guy with the long hair showed up, I figured you were the one who sent him. Because no one ever looks for me.”
There was a flicker of sadness in his eyes when he said that, but he caught it and quickly masked it.
“Want to come in?” he asked gently.
“And be alone in a house with the guy who assaulted me?” I said, my voice sharp with sarcasm. “I want to talk. But we’ll do it outside.”
He lowered his head for a moment and let out a quiet sigh.
“Okay. We’ll walk around the property. Let me grab my boots.”
Christian stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him. I moved a little closer, just enough to peek inside.
His home was modest. Simple. Only the basics for furniture, but it was clear he’d made an effort to make it feel lived-in and warm. The smell of something cooking drifted from the kitchen—something that surprisingly smelled good.
And since he said he lived alone, that meant he was the one doing the cooking.
I couldn’t help it. I was damn curious.
What the hell happened to him? What made him live like this?
He came out with his boots in hand and slipped them on outside, only closing the door behind him once he was done, as if he liked to keep his house dirt-free.
We walked around to the side of the house, where I could see the barn in the distance, along with a few cows. There was a chicken coop off to the side, too. But no one else was around—just him. He probably worked here alone.
“Are you here to hurt me, Ari?” he asked, breaking the silence. “For what I did to you? I figured that’s why you came. I’ve been preparing myself for it.”
“That crossed my mind,” I said flatly. “But right now, I just want to know why you did it.”
I stopped walking, turned around, and looked him straight in the eyes. I’d been waiting for this moment for so long.
“Why did you ruin my life, Chris? Why did you have to hurt me, assault me, on my fucking engagement day? All I ever did was be kind to you. I thought you were a friend!”
He went quiet for a moment before finally saying,
“I’m sorry, Ari. I know I hurt you. I know what I did was wrong. I can’t take it back, but I need you to know that I truly am sorry.”
“Your sorry doesn’t mean anything now, Chris.” I shook my head. “It means nothing to me. I need to know why.”
He pointed to a spot beneath a large tree, where two weathered Adirondack chairs sat facing a small wooden table. He walked toward it, and I followed. Then he pulled out a cloth from his back pocket, wiped one of the chairs, and gestured for me to sit. He took the other one without wiping it first.
When we both sat, he said, “I’m gay.”
I was taken aback.
Out of all the things I thought he’d say, that wasn’t one of them.
“My parents didn’t know,” he continued. “They’d kill me if they found out. Only my brothers knew.”
I stayed quiet, waiting for him to finish.
“I was in a relationship with Anthony. You remember him? Tony—he was my neighbor. He didn’t go to the same college as us, but I brought him along sometimes when we hung out.”
I nodded. I remembered him. Quiet. Always polite. I never gave him much thought.
“We had to keep it hidden. Both of us. Our families would’ve never accepted it. They would’ve disowned us. But that didn’t stop us from seeing each other in secret.”
He paused, his gaze drifting forward as if lost in thought.
“To keep up appearances, Tony and I hooked up with girls. But we were never actually with them. It was all just a cover. And somehow, Tony ended up hooking up with Taylor. Grayson’s sister.”
I held my breath.
Taylor.
I always thought Demi was the one behind everything. It never once crossed my mind that it could have been Taylor.
“One day, I left my phone at her house,” Christian said quietly. “It was her birthday. You were there too, if you remember. Somehow, she knew my PIN. She opened it, and she found our pictures. Videos. Of Anthony and me.”
He went quiet again; something like agony marred his expression.
“I don’t know how she did it, but she managed to transfer a lot of our pictures and videos onto her phone. Tony broke her heart, and she wanted to hurt him. I had no idea she even had them. Not until Grayson told his parents he was going to propose to you.”
He turned to look at me.
“You know they were in a financial crisis, right? Grayson was supposed to marry someone who could help get them out of it. And that wasn’t you.
They tried everything, introducing him to girls who fit their standards better.
He said no. They talked badly about you.
He didn’t believe them. And to their frustration, he even started trying to pull you into the family business, because he wanted to build a future with you. ”
I hadn’t realized he would go that far for me. I didn’t know how to feel about it.
“So Taylor threatened you?”
He swallowed hard, eyes starting to mist.
“Yes. It was all planned. I was supposed to ask you out so they could take pictures of us and show them to Grayson.”
His head dropped into his hands.
“I know I’m horrible, Ari. Fuck, I don’t think I even deserve to be sitting here talking to you. But I had to do it. I didn’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice, Chris,” I said slowly, my jaw tightening, anger simmering just under my skin. “You can choose not to hurt someone else just to protect your secret.”
He looked up at me, eyes glassy with tears.
“It wasn’t me I was protecting, Ari.” He wiped his face as a tear slipped down. “I was protecting Tony. Those photos, the videos…” He shook his head, unable to go on. “At the time, all I wanted was to keep him safe.”
“That day you came with Demi,” I said. “Was she in on it too?”
Christian nodded.
“Taylor asked her to distract Grayson. Then, at just the right moment, she was supposed to come looking for me so Grayson would catch us. She hated you that much. She thought you ruined her chance with him.”
That bitch.
She wouldn’t get away with this.
“But Ari, honestly, I never thought Grayson would react like that. I figured he’d get angry at you, maybe come after me. I never imagined he’d…”
He trailed off, noticing the shift in my expression.
“I’m sorry, Ari. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I looked at him closely.
He looked like he regretted it. Truly. But the damage was done, and there was nothing he could do to change that.