29. Lydia
29
LYDIA
T he driver gives me a final wary glance in the rearview mirror as I tap my phone against his card reader and hustle out of his germ-infested cab. It’s no fucking wonder he was giving me weird looks, with my hair a mess, makeup smeared, and my hands fucking bound.
Huffing, I awkwardly yank my dress down, stumbling in my heels as I march toward the front door.
I’d been terrified when those men had appeared out of nowhere on my way home after a night out with the girls, thrown a rancid sack over my head, and tossed me unceremoniously into the back of a van. I thought I was going to die!
A high-pitched laugh bubbles up my throat, and lifting one hand, I tenderly touch my face. My cheek smarts from where that little bitch slapped me, and steam billows from my ears.
How dare she.
How fucking dare she!
That Ruthless character… How long has my daughter been using her wiles to wrap him around her finger?
And Grayson! Just wait until his father hears who he’s in bed with.
That little harlot!
She isn’t content to simply steal my husband; she has to sleep with the entire student body at Halston U.
And she has the nerve to tell me I’m dead to her ?! Well, we’ll just see about that. I have no idea what she and her little friends had planned before they rushed out of there but thank god they did. They left in such haste that they didn’t ensure the door was closed behind them. All I had to do was wait. The fools that they are, they underestimated me. Did they think I’d sit quietly in that chair and let them talk to me that way? Treat me with such disrespect? Once the thump of music was loud enough to cover any noise I might make, I snatched my purse from the corner it had been tossed into and hauled ass out of there, careful to keep to the shadows until I was out front of the club and able to blend into the crowd until I hailed a cab.
Now? Now I’m fuming. Vibrating with rage at the audacity of that little bitch. I’m so sick of her innocent act. So sick of her destroying my carefully laid plans. I’m going to make her wish that stupid idiot had hit her with his car.
“Bertram!” I bellow as I stomp into the house. My heels clack against the floor as I go straight for his office. Finding it empty, I storm into the kitchen to take a knife to these stupid restraints.
Rubbing my raw wrists, I huff as I march up the stairs to his bedroom. Also empty.
Where the hell is he?
Stomping back to the foyer, I’m breathing fire as I plant my hands on my hips and glare at the door, demanding he walk through it.
When that doesn’t work, because Bertram loves nothing more than to defy me, I snatch my clutch from where I dropped it on the table and pull out my phone.
Dialing his number, the ringing of his phone echoes as I tap my foot and wait. I hate waiting. At this time of night, he should be at home. He should have been wondering where I’ve been all this time! Worrying for my safety!
So where the hell is he?
Aaaggghhh!
Releasing my frustration, I shove the vase off the table. It shatters with a satisfying crash, water spilling onto the pristine floor and the flowers scattering.
I’ve had e-fucking-nough!
I’m so sick of being treated like dirt. Bertram has no appreciation for me.
My daughter sure as fuck doesn’t. Ungrateful bitch. I gave her everything . I worked my ass off to land a man of Bertram’s wealth and prestige, and instead of saying thank you, she fucks him behind my back and has the audacity to lie to me about it.
What does she think is going to happen now? Does she think Bertram will actually want her and her sniveling daughter? That the three of them will be one big happy family?
I scoff just at the notion. There is absolutely no way in hell that I will allow that ungrateful child to steal my life. My husband. My money.
Done with this bullshit, I flick to the find my phone app that I had the good sense to connect to Bertram’s phone one night after I’d distracted him with sex and he’d stalked to the bathroom to clean up, leaving his cell unattended.
Bertram thinks he can play me, but I can play him too.
The blue dot shows his location as Halston. What would he be doing in Halston at this hour? It’s the same spot on the map where he’s been on those nights when he doesn’t come home until I’m already in bed.
I’d assumed it was some insignificant whore, but Riley’s protestations, along with the ridiculous obsession my husband has with her, have me wondering…
Is this their love nest?
There must be somewhere they go to hook up since Bertram’s plan to have her under our roof failed. Naive, gullible Riley probably thinks she’ll have more time with him if they’re somewhere alone . That he’ll leave me if she pulls him far enough away.
Honey, he won’t ever leave me for you.
And tonight, I’m going to prove it.
Grabbing the keys to my Bentley GT convertible, I pull up directions to my husband’s location and climb into the car. The engine roars as I slam my foot on the accelerator, kicking up gravel before flying down the driveway toward Halston.
I fume the entire journey, and as I pull up outside a quaint apartment building, that fury boils over. Glaring up at the darkened windows, my lip curls in a snarl as I imagine the two of them in there somewhere, wrapped up in each other. Probably laughing at me. Do they think I’m that stupid?
Throwing open the door, I stand on the sidewalk and stare at the building. The lights are off in all but one window. Given that it’s the middle of the night, it’s not surprising. I don’t care what time it is. I’ll readily go door to door until I find those sneaking, lying snakes.
I march toward the entrance of the building and pull open the double glass-fronted door. The lobby inside is okay— nothing fancy. If it were me Bertram was bringing here, I’d demand something better, but clearly, my daughter can be bought for cheaper—foolish girl.
Going straight to the wall of mailboxes, I scan the various names in search of a familiar one. A frown pulls at my lips when I notice one I recognize, only it’s not the name I’d been expecting.
Of course, I should have figured. Bertram isn’t stupid enough to tie his own name to a secret fuck pad. Furtive tasks like this are precisely what he pays David so handsomely for. Memorizing the apartment number beside David’s name on the mailbox, I stomp toward the stairs.
My anger has morphed into something glacial as I navigate stairs and hallways to apartment number eight. Finding the right one, I don’t bother with such formalities as knocking. They didn’t do me the courtesy of not fucking behind my back, so why should I offer them the courtesy of knocking? Instead, I twist the door handle and step into the apartment.
The lights are on inside, showing a vacant open-plan living-dining area. Giving it a cursory inspection, my focus moves to the hall leading to the bedrooms. My heels are silent on the thick carpet as I bypass the open doorways and approach the one at the end of the hall, which is closed. Pausing, I press my ear to the wood before quietly turning the handle. I slowly open the door, giving my eyes time to adjust to the dark interior as I peer into the room.
I make out the outline of a bed, except it’s not the right size. I’d been so confident I would walk in on Bertram and Riley cuddled up together that it takes me a moment to understand what I’m actually seeing.
A single bed is pushed against the wall, and a small, plastic kiddie table and chairs are set up on a rug beside it. A cold chill seeps down my spine, and I clap a hand over my mouth. Riley wasn’t lying. She has Aurora back, and they are living here—on my husband’s dime.
This is so much worse than I imagined!
Whirling, I march for the door, moving directly to the next room down the hall.
Flinging open the door, I balk.
Again, comprehending the sight before me takes far longer than it should. Except this time, my world tilts. It topples. It crashes down around me.
“ Oh my god! David! ”
I rush to David’s side, where he’s lying on the floor, convulsing. Tears fall unbidden from my eyes as I fall to my knees beside him. My hands hover over his chest, but there’s so much blood. It’s everywhere, spilling relentlessly from a deep gash across his throat. How? Why? “David, my love,” I cry. What happened to you? Despite the sickly pallor to his face, it’s clear that he’s been beaten to hell.
The sound of gurgling is loud, and when it stops, along with the convulsing, the room is suddenly eerily quiet. “David?” Leaning over him, I find a spot on his shoulders not soaked in blood and shake him. However, his glazed-over eyes never shift from the ceiling. He doesn’t blink. Nothing.
Sobbing, I curl up in a ball beside him. Nothing makes any sense. Why is he here, in Bertram and Riley’s apartment?
My poor David.
He was the only one who cared about me.
After my idiotic husband got sent to prison and my daughter saddled me with her kid, he was the only one who ever asked me how I was. Who wanted to spend time with me. Who listened.
In those early days after Bertram was arrested, he’d bring me flowers and a bottle of wine, and we’d talk for hours. If I had a problem, he’d step in and sort it. He was good like that. Useful. He knew the job of a man. Ensured I was taken care of while Bertram was indisposed.
As the years passed, he was the only one I could confide in. Bertram and I had an agreement that we’d stay together. He needed me to keep up appearances once he was released and to dispel the rumors my daughter started after whatever spat they got into. I wanted his money and to keep the lifestyle I’d become accustomed to.
However, it was David who gave me everything else. The comfort I needed. The support. He provided me with everything my husband had failed at over the years. He’d seen how Bertram treated me behind closed doors—his indifference toward me—and said it wasn’t right. That I deserved better. He gave me that better. He gave me something my husband never had: love. I loved him.
I sob. How can he be gone? This isn’t how it was all supposed to unfold. We were supposed to go to Europe. David had wanted it just to be the two of us. We have plenty of money now, but I couldn’t let Riley win. I refused to hand my husband over to her. Not after all the lies and backstabbing. He wasn’t hers . He never was, and I’d never allow him to be. I needed David, but I wanted Bertram—at least until he no longer lusted after Riley.
The three of us would go to Europe after Bertram was released. I’d continue the charade with him for as long as it took for him to move on from his obsession or for Riley to marry, and David and I would have our stolen moments until then. David understood. He knew I couldn’t just walk away, not after the two of them made me out to be a fool.
I had to make him suffer. Make them suffer.
After his incarceration, David had become more to Bertram than a mere employee. Bertram relied on David too much, so it wouldn’t seem strange if he joined us in Europe, continuing his role alongside Bertram until such a time as we could offload him. At that point, Bertram could do whatever he wanted so long as it wasn’t returning to my daughter’s bed, and David and I would have each other. It would have been perfect. It should have been perfect.
A shadow falls over me, a chill running down my spine. Startled, I push myself upright, eyes going wide as a gasp falls from my lips.
“Lydia,” he purrs, the corner of his lips curling upward. “How convenient.”
My composure crumples, my gaze dropping back to David’s pale face. “D-David.” My lower lip trembles. “He’s dead.”
“Yes,” Bertram drawls. “I am aware, since I’m the one who killed him.”
My face whips toward his, and for the first time, I take in my husband as he looms over me, a dark figure of menace and dread. His eyes, blazing with an unholy fire, pierce through my very soul. Dark hair falls in wild, untamed strands around his face, framing a look of pure, unadulterated evil. He looks like a demon conjured from the depths of my nightmares, every inch of him exuding a terrifying, almost supernatural power.
“W-what?” Certainly, I heard him wrong. Why would he kill David? David did everything for him. Unless Bertram found out about me and David? Did he kill my lover in a fit of jealous rage?
Interest piqued, I look up at my husband through a new lens.
Bertram scoffs. “Get that starstruck look off your face. My reason for killing him had nothing to do with you.”
His words may as well be a slap to the face. Sparks of the anger that drove me here break through the surface of my grief, and rising, I meet my husband’s eyes, unblinking as I lift my chin.
“You won’t get away with this! I saw who you’re keeping in that bedroom! What is this place?” I sneer. “Your love nest? Are the three of you playing happy families here?” I spit the words at him. “How did you even find her?”
He chuckles, the sound like ice pellets hitting my skin. “Why, darling wife, you delivered her straight into my awaiting arms.”
What? No…
He smirks, cold, dark eyes gleaming with triumph as he leans in as though to share a secret. I remain carefully still, his face taking up all of my vision as he whispers, “ You sold her to me.”
No…
“Although, sold is probably the wrong word since that money has conveniently found its way back into my accounts.”
“No.”
He grins. “Yes.”
Reaching out, he twists a strand of my hair around his finger. “My stupid, simple wife.” His soothing tone is at odds with his demeaning words. “David has been working for me this entire time. He played you. Had you wrapped around his finger so you’d confide all your secrets to him.” He tugs on my hair, making me gasp. “I’ve known about her since the beginning.” If it’s possible, his already menacing expression turns deadly. “When David informed me of your plan to get rid of her before my release, I made some plans of my own.
“David was the one who arranged for the cell phone to be delivered to your house after he gave you that ridiculous Craigslist message to post. He’s the one you were communicating with.” He chuckles humorlessly. “You didn’t even question how someone obtained your address from that, did you? All you saw were dollar signs and a chance to screw me over.”
“No.” My voice cracks, the sound muffled by the shattering of my heart. “No,” I repeat, shaking my head. “He loved me.”
Lips pushed out, my husband tilts his head, giving me a look of faux sympathy. “No, wife. He was obeying my orders the entire time. Since the very beginning. Every late-night chat, every bouquet of flowers, every fuck was done on my say so.”
The room spins. “Then why kill him?”
Tutting like I should have figured out the answer by now, he gives me an assessing look. “He had outlived his usefulness to me.” He shakes his head, muttering to himself, “Can’t even be trusted to look after a child .” Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he focuses back on me with a dark, piercing stare that chills me to the bones. “I’m beyond ready to begin my new life.”
“N-new life?”
“Not that ridiculous Europe plan you foolishly believed in.” He cackles scathingly. One side of his lips lifts. “No. I’m finally about to get everything I ever wanted. I’ve waited years for this.” He sneers. “Put up with being married to you. Rotted in a prison cell. I’m owed this. I deserve it.”
Riley.
He’s talking about her .
That stupid fucking bitch! Why is she always ruining my life?! Of course, this is all about her!
My limbs shake with restrained fury. “You won’t get away with this!” A shrill laugh pierces the air. “I won’t let you!”
“Oh, I know,” he purrs, far too at ease. “You’ve made that perfectly clear.” The hairs along my arms stand on end as he steps closer, eliminating the space between us. Menace pours from him, and I stumble backward. My foot catches on David, and I trip, hitting the ground with an oomph .
“Bertram.” With one arm outstretched in front of me, I shuffle backward on my ass. Like an ominous shadow, Bertram follows, his steps silent on the carpet as he stalks me until my back hits the wall.
I’m shaking so badly I can’t get to my feet as he stands over me. My heart is lodged in my throat, terror paralyzing me as he slowly lowers to a crouch. There’s nothing in his eyes as he stares at me. It’s like looking into oblivion—nothing but desolation and death.
“Y-you can’t do this! P-people will question my absence.”
“Will they? You made sure to tell enough of your girlfriends that we would be going to Europe. Unfortunately, work commitments have kept me here, but my darling wife needed a break after all the stress of the last few years, and the loving husband that I am, I told you to go alone and enjoy yourself.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Eventually, I can tell people you loved it so much that you decided to move there permanently. The distance put a strain on our marriage, and ultimately, we decided to go our separate ways. Although, by then, I doubt anyone will really care. We will all have moved on, after all.”
Reaching out, he touches the tip of his finger to my cheek. It’s only then that I realize I’m crying. Coating his finger in my tears, he rubs it into his skin like he wants to preserve it. Remind himself of this moment. “I’ll have my new family. The one I’ve wanted for years. Since the first time I saw her hiding out at the back table of the bar you were waitressing in.”
My gasp gets stuck in the back of my throat, and I begin to choke. “Why?”
Tilting his head, he continues staring at me in that uncanny, utterly terrifying way. Like I’m an ant he’s debating whether to crush.
“You’ve served your purpose. Now you’re just a problem standing in my way, and I’m done with obstacles.”
Strong fingers wrap around my neck, squeezing. I gasp, but there’s no air. Bucking, I claw at his arm, his hand, as I stare pleadingly into those dead, uncaring eyes.
Black dots appear in my vision as I wonder what I did to deserve an end like this. My limbs grow heavy, and my energy drains out as my eyesight narrows to a tunnel before everything goes black—forever.