Chapter 52
Corine
England had been a whirlwind of emotion, but it also gave me a kind of peace I hadn't felt in years. Jasper. The kids. Brittany finally smiling again. It had been a breath of fresh air. But like all good things, our trip had to end.
We returned to Los Angeles with sleepy eyes and heavier hearts, dragging our suitcases through LAX like reluctant souls. Jasper stayed behind in England for another week to close the business deal that had brought him there in the first place. Still, not a day passed without a call from him. Video chats with Astrid squealing in her high-pitched giggles when he called her his "beauty princess," Kyle showing off his latest drawings to him over the screen, and then, the quiet moments where it was just me and him. He always made time. Always asked if I was okay. And I was. Until tonight.
Brittany had gone to spend the weekend with her cousins, a rare thing she finally felt strong enough to do. The kids had just fallen asleep-Astrid curled against her unicorn plushie and Kyle hugging his dinosaur pillow. The house was quiet, and a breeze moved through the half-closed blinds. Allen had promised to come by to see the kids after work, but of course, he didn't show. Again. It was becoming a pattern. A painful one.
I sighed as I made sure the locks were set and reached for the main light switch. The doorbell rang.
My heart jerked.
I opened the door-and my blood ran cold.
"Allen?"
He stood there swaying slightly. Disheveled. Reeking of whiskey and sweat. His shirt was half untucked, hair wild, and his eyes-bloodshot and hollow.
"You didn't call. The kids were waiting for you," I said, my voice tight with anger and confusion.
"Corinne... baby," he slurred, taking a staggering step forward.
I stepped back. "No. Don't you dare 'baby' me. Where the hell have you been? You disappear for days and then show up like this? What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I miss you."
"You're drunk. You need to leave."
He lunged forward, faster than I expected, grabbing my face and crushing his mouth against mine. I yelped, pushing at his chest. Panic clawed at my throat.
"Get off me! Allen! Stop!"
He was crying as he kissed me. I tasted salt and whiskey and despair.
"I'm sorry," he muttered against my lips. "I miss you. I need you. We were perfect."
"You're hurting me," I whimpered, trying to twist away. But he yanked me by the hair, pulling me toward the couch. I stumbled back, crashing onto the cushions.
"Please, don't do this. Allen, the kids are upstairs! Don't do this!"
He was crying, full-on sobbing, but his hands were on my robe, tearing the belt loose.
"I ruined everything," he cried. "I cheated. I hurt you. I destroyed us. Natasha meant nothing. Nothing!"
"You bastard," I whispered.
He gripped my shoulders, panting. "Please forgive me. Please. Let me come back. I swear I'll change. I swear."
I could see the broken man inside him-but I didn't feel sorry. I felt fear.
"Okay," I whispered shakily. "Let's just calm down. Let's talk, okay? I'll get you some water-"
"You're lying to me! You never wanted to fix anything! You replaced me with him"
Then I saw it. A flash of silver from behind his back.
A gun.
My heart stopped. My breath caught in my throat.
"If I can't have you," he rasped, "no one can."
"Allen, please. Put that down. Think about the kids. Please, they need their father."
"They had a father! Until you destroyed everything!"
He pointed it at me. My instincts kicked in. I lunged forward, trying to wrestle it from his hand. "Don't do this!"
The door burst open.
My security detail-the two men Jasper had hired just last month after Allen started acting weird in England-charged in.
"Gun! Drop it!"
Allen panicked. The trigger pulled.
Bang.
Pain ripped through my hand, hot and burning.
Bang.
Allen dropped to the floor, a scream tearing from his throat as he clutched his stomach.
Everything moved in slow motion. Blood. Screams. The smell of gunpowder and metal. My security dragging me back. Someone yelling for an ambulance. The weight of it all crashing down on me like a tidal wave.
I collapsed to the floor, cradling my bleeding hand, sobbing. Not just from the pain. But from the heartbreak. The betrayal. The fear.
He would've killed me.
He nearly did.
And through the haze, I thought of Jasper. His laugh. His promise to protect me. His warmth.
He wasn't here.
And I needed him now more than ever.
I buried my face into the couch cushion, feeling the weight of my trauma sink deeper than it ever had before.
The only thing I could whisper through my sobs was one thing:
"Please, let the kids stay asleep. Please, God, don't let them see this."