Chapter Twenty #2
“He’s been paying a man to follow you.”
The words don’t land all at once. They sink in slowly. Heavily.
“Why would he do that?” I ask.
“That,” Erik says quietly, “is exactly what I’m trying to tell you, Lee. Warren isn’t the man you think he is.”
“Give me my phone,” I say, my voice tight. “Let me speak to him.”
Erik glances toward the building, then back at me. “He’s already inside,” he says. “Let’s go.”
Anthony steps out of the building just as we reach the top step. He straightens his jacket like he’s bracing himself, then shoots Erik an irritated look before turning to me.
“I’ll take you home,” he says, already moving closer.
“She’s only just arrived,” Erik replies smoothly.
Relief floods me as Anthony’s hand settles at my lower back, grounding, protective. I turn with him, ready to leave this place behind—
“He’s getting engaged.”
The words stop me cold.
“Ignore him,” Anthony mutters close to my ear, his grip tightening slightly.
“To Nancy,” Erik adds, too casually. Deliberately.
Anthony exhales sharply. “Lee, get in the car.”
I don’t move. My chest feels hollow, like something vital has been scooped out in one clean motion. I turn back slowly. Erik is smiling now, watching me as though he’s waiting for something to break.
“They’re announcing it any minute,” he says.
“Shut up, Erik,” Anthony snaps. He turns to me, lowering his voice. “It’s not what you think.”
“What is he talking about?” I ask.
Anthony doesn’t answer right away. His eyes flick away, it’s enough to confirm what I already know in my heart.
My throat tightens as I turn back toward the steps. My legs move before my head catches up.
“Leoni, this is not the time to be stubborn,” Anthony warns, hurrying after me.
“I want to see him,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “I want to hear it from him.”
Erik chuckles softly. He winks at Anthony, and reaches for the door.
“Leoni,” Anthony says sharply, grabbing my arm. “I mean it. Get in the damn car.”
I pull free and take Erik’s offered hand, the betrayal burning hot in my chest as he leads me inside.
Behind me, Anthony swears under his breath, already lifting his phone to his ear. And I don’t need to see the screen to know exactly who he’s calling.
We step into a vast room crowded with people.
But it isn’t loud. There’s no chatter, no laughter, no clinking glasses, just a heavy, expectant silence, the kind that presses against my ears.
Every person inside is facing the same direction, bodies angled forward, attention fixed on whatever is happening at the front.
Erik guides me to a spot near the back, his hand still locked around mine. I don’t pull away. I can’t. I need something solid, something to stop me from tipping over as the air seems to thin around me.
My pulse roars in my ears as I look past shoulders, suits and dresses, past faces blurred by panic.
Until I see him—
Warren.
He stands near the front of the room, composed and devastatingly familiar, like he belongs exactly where he is.
And beside him—
Nancy.
Perfect. Polished. Close enough that there’s no mistaking what she is to him. Something inside my chest gives way. A quiet, awful fracture, the kind that doesn’t make a sound, but changes everything.
“Good afternoon,” Nancy’s father begins, lifting his glass as the room settles. His voice is calm, practised, the kind that’s used to being obeyed. “Thank you all for being here today.”
He glances at Nancy, pride softening his expression, before turning his attention to Warren.
“My daughter has always been strong-willed,” he continues. “Intelligent. Determined. She doesn’t make choices lightly, especially ones that affect her future.”
He pauses for a second.
“So when she told me she had chosen Warren Baxter, I knew this wasn’t just about affection. It was about partnership. About loyalty. About two people who understand responsibility and the weight that comes with it.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Today, I’m proud to announce the engagement of my daughter, Nancy Winters, to Warren Baxter.” He raises his glass higher. “To family. To unity. And to a future built on trust.”
The room erupts in applause whilst my heart shatters to pieces.
Nancy says something to Warren. He shakes his head, but whatever she’s asking she seems insistent. And then Warren steps forward.
The room stills again, like everyone’s collectively holding their breath. He takes the glass from Nancy’s hand, his fingers brushing hers, and something in my chest caves in. The large ring on her finger sparkles in the light.
“I’ll keep this short,” he says, his voice steady. Familiar. The same voice that whispered my name in the dark just last night.
My stomach twists.
“Anyone who knows me,” he continues, “knows I don’t make promises lightly.”
A few people chuckle. I don’t.
He looks at Nancy then, whilst his thumb rubs over the diamond, and I wait, stupidly, for him to hesitate. For him to falter. For him to glance at the back of the room where I’m standing, barely breathing.
He doesn’t.
“Nancy challenges me,” he says. “She understands the world I live in. The responsibilities I carry. And she stands beside me anyway.”
Each word lands like a quiet, measured blow.
“This engagement isn’t just about love,” he adds. “It’s about commitment. Loyalty. Building something that lasts.”
Pain tears through my chest.
“So,” he finishes, lifting his glass, “thank you for being here to witness the beginning of our future.”
I stand there and watch the man I love tell the world he loves someone else, his voice steady, his smile practiced, his future sealed in front of witnesses.
I turn and push through the crowd blindly, tears blurring everything as I shove open the first door I find. It swings wide into a library with dark wood, high shelves, the smell of old paper and polish. It’s empty. Thank God.
I stagger to the nearest table and brace myself against it, my hands shaking, my breath coming out in uneven pulls like my body doesn’t remember how to work properly anymore.
The door opens behind me.
“You needed to see it for yourself.” Erik’s voice slices through the quiet.
“Did I?” I whisper, hating how fragile I sound. How broken. His hand settles at the small of my back, and I shrug it off violently, spinning to face him. “Are you happy now?”
“Not at all,” he says calmly. “But you needed to know. And he was never going to tell you.”
“And why,” I ask, my voice cracking despite my effort to keep it steady, “were you so damn concerned about me?”
Erik turns away instead of answering, moving to a cabinet and pulling out a decanter of whiskey. “Because he never plays by the rules,” he mutters, almost to himself. I watch him pour two drinks. Watch the amber liquid splash against the glass so carelessly, all the while fighting back tears.
He hands me one, and I knock it back without thinking. The burn barely registers compared to the ache in my chest.
He smiles faintly and refills it.
“So this was some kind of revenge?” I ask.
“This,” he says, meeting my eyes, “was me showing you the real Warren.”
“He’s your brother,” I snap. “Aren’t you supposed to protect him? Not stab him in the back?”
His expression hardens. “I learned a long time ago that Warren Baxter only ever looks out for himself.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “Well, I’m glad you got one up on him.”
I drain the second glass, wincing as it scorches my throat, then thrust it back toward him.
“Pour another.”
Because right now, feeling numb is all I crave.