Chapter 29
All For Us
Fenella
“Fenella, please don’t do this. Alan’s dangerous enough for us. Going after Peter is a bigger risk than we can imagine. That bossy old man just wants to hide behind us and throw us out as sacrifices,” Laird says, referring to Golden.
“But, Laird, you’re the one who said we needed to lock them up. We want him out of our lives. So we should do it all the way.”
He cups my face. His voice drops low, his emerald eyes locked on mine. “But it’s dangerous. We don’t have to get dragged into his do-or-die mess.” His thumb strokes my cheek like he’s shielding me from the air itself.
“But I’m tired of being the helpless, foolish girl,” I say.
“You’ve done more than enough.” Each word lands heavy.
“Please. I just want to end all of this once and for all,” I insist.
“I just want to protect you,” he whispers, desperate, squeezing both my hands.
“I know. You always do. In the end, you always jump into the fire with me. Since school, you’ve always shown up.
” I chuckle softly. “It’s amazing, you know, having a backup army always ready to fight for me.
I can’t thank you enough, but this time, only I can do it.
” I shake my head, still a little in disbelief, and run my hand along his cheek, smiling wide.
“What are you trying so hard to protect?” he asks.
“You. Us.”
I study every line of Laird’s face. The light stubble along his jaw, the faint crease on his forehead, the strong tip of his nose, the thick brown lips stained from smoking. I even know how the corner of his right lip tilts slightly when he smiles unevenly.
“I don’t want to be separated from you. As long as Alan, Amy, and Peter are free, we’ll never know what they’ll do to tear us apart,” I say, pausing to steady my voice.
“And my mom. I can’t let Amy keep exploiting the state foundation funds while Mom works her ass off selling second-hand stuff at bazaars, freezing in the cold, baking cakes and making eggnogs for donations. ” I squeeze his hand.
“And the kids at the hospital who wait for volunteers like me to cheer them up. They deserve those funds, not to have them stolen for someone’s personal gain.” I shake my head.
“And Jessy. He’s an easy target for Alan. How many times has Alan used his weakness against him? I don’t want Jessy to be forced into becoming his accomplice.”
Laird watches me quietly. Our breathing evens out in my room as we take in everything I just said, making sure we’re both ready for what comes next.
“Not to mention all the people who still don’t know Peter’s been embezzling their money,” he finally says. “Everyone’s been fooled.”
“Exactly. You see it too. We need to stop them.” I nod quickly, a small smile breaking through.
“Alright. I get it.” He nods back, exhaling slow.
“It’s dangerous, but I know you’ll help me.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll always help you.” He squeezes my hand tight.
We’ve reached an understanding. I’m the only one who can get into their circle. I’ve already proven I can shake them just by showing up. This time will be no different. We’ll get their confession and end this.
“Thank you, Laird.”
I wrap my arms around him and press a kiss to his cheek. He pulls me closer; his arms locked around my waist and back like he’ll never let me go. His lips brush my cheek, and then he inhales against my neck, slow and deep.
* * *
“You good?” Laird asks.
“Uh huh.” I nod quickly.
I adjust the receiver in my ear again. It’s silver, with tiny crystals along the edge—designed to look like a full ear cuff instead of a listening device.
It pairs with a matching choker pendant, which doubles as a voice recorder.
Laird wears the same kind of receiver, but his is plain black and rigid.
“Test,” a woman’s voice buzzes faintly in my ear.
“Can you hear me?” I ask.
“Yes, loud and clear,” she replies.
“Can you hear it clearly?” Laird asks again, double-checking.
“Yes. I’m ready.” I exhale slowly.
“You remember the safe word?” he asks.
“Whitehill Academy.”
“Okay.” Laird lets out a tense breath. His jaw is tight, lips parted but not smiling. He’s nervous, but so am I. Still, we have to make this work tonight.
“Okay, everyone to your positions,” the FBI unit leader says through the comms. “My scout spotted Alan in a black limousine. He turned four blocks away. Laird, Matthew, and Jessy, join surveillance team one. The rest stay in van two with me and Mr. Golden.”
Everyone rushes out of my house. Laird cups my face and kisses me, a deep, nervous kiss that’s both grounding and electric.
“Remember, the second you say the safe word, I’ll come for you,” he says. His eyes burn with determination. I squeeze his hand once.
“Yes. We got this.” I nod.
“I’ll be watching you from afar and praying for you, babe. You’re brave as hell,” Jessy says, squeezing my shoulders.
“Yeah, Jessy. I’ll be fine.” I grin.
“After this, I’m enrolling you in acting classes and pitching you to every Hollywood producer I know,” he adds.
“Looking forward to it.” I smile again, softer this time.
“You got this, girl!” Matthew bumps his fist, and I tap mine to his.
They all leave and shut the door behind them, careful not to make noise in case Alan’s close. My mom stands beside me, holding my hand. She kisses my knuckles.
“You have all my blessings. Just come home safe,” she says, squeezing my hand tight.
“Yes, Mom. Don’t worry. I’ll be back once the foundation is free of those crooks.”
She strokes my head gently, her eyes glimmering as she studies my face. “Thank you. For being born into this messy world and for being my daughter.”
“Oh, come on. You sound like we’re never gonna see each other again.” I laugh and hug her tight, trying not to cry even though my chest feels heavy.
How could I have been so blind? She’s always been there—supporting me, believing in me, proud even now. When I finally pull back, I take a breath.
“How do I look?” I ask, hands on my hips, chin up.
The sleeveless black jumpsuit I’m wearing hugs my frame perfectly, studded with tiny white beads tracing the plunging neckline and open back. I ditched the dress Alan bought and bought this one myself. Pants are smarter anyway, in case I need to run.
My blonde hair is slicked back into a tight ponytail, clean and polished. The whole look screams runway chic. No one would suspect what’s hidden beneath the sparkle.
“You look stunning. I’m your biggest fan,” Mom says with a little laugh that makes me smile.
“But you’re my celebrity chef.” I laugh too, and when the laughter fades, I pull her into another hug, tighter this time, ribs pressed together. “I love you so much, Mom.”
“I love you too, honey.” Her voice cracks.
“Alan’s here.” The woman’s voice from the receiver crackles in my ear.
“He’s here, Mom.” She nods and hands me my small white shoulder bag.
The doorbell rings. I kiss her cheek and walk toward the door. No need to peek. I already know who it is.
Alan stands on the porch, eyes wide, mouth open. He looks stunned, caught off guard by me.
“Good evening, Alan,” I say in a low, sultry tone with a smile.
“Oh, uh—good evening, Milady.” He clears his throat. “Sorry. I was just… mesmerized.”
“You better start getting used to it.” I grin, half teasing.
“Yeah, you’re right,” he says with a chuckle.
“You’re leaving now?” my mom asks behind me.
“Yes, Mrs. Baxter. I hope you don’t mind me taking your daughter away for the night,” Alan says, flashing a polite smile.
“Just be careful,” she says softly. We both nod. “Bye, honey.”
“Bye, Mom. Lock up tight,” I say before stepping out. I’ll be back, I promise.
“Shall we?” Alan places his hand on my waist and guides me toward the sleek black limo waiting at the curb.
“Wow. A limousine with a driver?” I whistle, eyes wide.
“Wait till you see the inside.” He smiles, opening the door for me.
“I feel like a celebrity already,” I laugh.
“You are, my love,” he says, closing the door and circling around to join me inside.
As the limo glides through the city, we talk.
I try steering the conversation toward finance or his business network, but he dodges every question with practiced ease.
I’m sure he has no clue what I’m really here for, but a part of me worries he might start to suspect. So I drop that topic. For now.
* * *
We return to the same house as last week. It’s pretty bold of us to come back here after the chaos we caused before. What’s even more ironic is that Peter and Amy still invited us, even though Amy kicked us out the last time we met.
“You think Amy’s not mad at us anymore?” I ask Alan as our car lines up in front of the house.
“Well, who knows? At least we’re showing up as part of the family. People would start talking if we didn’t,” he says casually.
“So, you mean this is all just for Amy’s image?” I press.
He goes quiet for a second. Did I say the wrong thing? I open my mouth, trying to say something to smooth things out, but Alan holds up his hand.
“Fenella, please, just behave tonight. After this, we’ll be free.”
“Free? How so?” I blink at him.
“As I told you a few days ago, you’ll see. We’ll be going far away from Peter, Laird, and Amy.” He smiles, full of excitement for his plan.
My heart beats faster. What does he mean by that? “How far?” My voice trembles slightly, a strange feeling curling in my gut.
“So far away… I can promise we’ll live happily ever after, just the two of us.” He squeezes my hand with a deep breath before the car fully stops in the drop-off lobby.
Alan circles the car and guides me out with his arm. With some lights from the press flashing, I smile as I hold his sturdy arm. We walk together inside the house as if we’re a perfect couple straight out of a magazine.
The pointed black high pumps I’m wearing make everyone look smaller tonight. Their faces tilt slightly up when they look at me. It’s probably just my imagination, born from this sudden rush of confidence. Still, I feel great.
Some familiar faces gather around us—Jemima Hors, Oscar de Ragetti, and other celebrities we’ve seen before. They praise us, especially me.
“Oh, Fenella, darling, I’m so happy to see you again. You look stunning.” Oscar gives me a quick peck on both cheeks.
“Yeah, I thought I’d never see you again after that commercial,” Jemima says with a chuckle, kissing both my cheeks.
“Why? You think I’d actually kill myself like the netizens told me to?” I laugh lightly, though the subtle edge in my voice makes it clear it’s not a joke.
“Oh, of course not, dear. I’m glad you ignored those awful people. Scandals come and go. Give it time, and they’ll move on. We should focus on next month’s fashion show instead.” Oscar waves a hand dramatically and lifts his chin.
Yeah, says the one who almost cancelled me from all his product lines. Jessy said Alan convinced him to keep me as his model, maybe with a quiet warning to cut funding to his brands if he dares cancel my contract.
“My girl’s tough as hell, isn’t she?” Alan says, his lips curling into a proud grin, like he’s staking his claim on me.
“I’m so jealous right now.”
The female voice catches everyone’s attention. Alan and I turn to see Mallory West, stunning in a tight white dress that pops against her brown hair. She’s with Roger, her manager slash boyfriend. The crowd lights up when they see her.
“Hey, Fenella. Good to see you again.” Mallory smiles and hugs me, kissing both cheeks.
“Yeah. Nice to see you too, Mallory.” I flash a polite smile, even though the sight of her twists something sharp in my chest. That two-faced bitch dares to show up like nothing happened after she threw me under the bus.
“I’m glad you guys could mend things,” Mallory says brightly.
“Oh, you know, feelings are unpredictable.” I shrug.
“And we’re engaged,” Alan cuts in, loud enough for everyone to hear. The crowd bursts into cheers and excitement.
“Show us the ring!” Oscar shouts.
They all lean closer, demanding to see it. I sigh like I’m already used to this circus and raise my hand, showing off the diamond on my ring finger. A brand-new Prestishe premium big-ass diamond cut. The crowd lets out a chorus of laughs, cheers, and admiring oohs.
“Wow, congratulations,” Mallory says with a genuine beam.
“Yeah, congrats!” another woman squeals from behind.
I turn and there’s Amy, glowing in a sparkling gold dress. Of course. She couldn’t have picked anything more dramatic.
That’s Oscar’s new design, the one I modeled last month for an editorial spread. Why the hell would she wear it in front of me? Fishing for some public commentary online about how she wears it better than me?
Mallory’s circle instantly makes way for her, surrounding her, praising her look and exchanging pleasantries.
But from the corner of my eye, I catch Oscar’s tiny grimace, the faintest twitch of irritation.
He’s terrible at hiding his feelings, especially when something doesn’t fit his design.
Still, something forces them all to play nice with her, and I already know what it is.
“You know, the main event’s about to start. I hope you all make your way to the ballroom soon.” Amy spreads her arms with that hostess smile and starts leading the crowd away.
“Come on, baby,” Alan says softly, gesturing for me to follow, but Amy stops me. Her hand hooks around my arm.
“You all go ahead. I just want a quick word with my future sister-in-law.” Her eyes narrow slightly at me.
“I have nothing to talk about with you,” I say, slipping my arm free, my lips curling into a sweet, practiced smile.
“Ladies, please. If you can’t play nice, I swear I will—”
“Fuck off!” Amy snaps at him before he can finish.
Everyone freezes and stares at her. The mask slips for a second, and pure irritation flashes across her face. Maybe realizing she scared everyone, Amy clears her throat and forces a sweet smile back into place.
“Believe me, I just want a little chat with her. No interruptions,” she says, blinking innocently.
“Five minutes,” Alan warns, raising his hand. “If she’s not back in five, I’m coming to get her.”
“Can’t we girls have privacy anymore?” Amy rolls her eyes and gestures for me to follow. I glance at Alan and nod.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell him.