CHAPTER 32 #2
I frown. I usually ignore unknown numbers, a lingering habit from the week the paparazzi were hunting us. But the area code is local, and I am expecting a call from a contractor regarding the steel reinforcements for the West Loop project.
I hit accept. "Audrey Jennings."
"Audrey."
The voice on the other end of the line is thin, reedy, and incredibly familiar.
My blood turns to absolute ice. The pencil slips from my fingers, rolling across the drafting paper and dropping onto the hardwood floor with a sharp clack.
"Mom?" I whisper.
"Hi, sweetie." My mother’s voice shakes slightly. She sounds older than I remember. I haven't spoken to her in six months. The last time we talked, she asked me for a loan to cover a "temporary setback," and I told her I couldn't do it anymore.
"How did you get this number?" I ask, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
"I saw the news," she says, ignoring the question. "I saw the articles about Simon. And about... about the new man you’re with. Malcolm Vance."
A cold, heavy knot forms in my stomach.
She doesn't care about Simon going to prison. She cares about the fact that I am engaged to a billionaire.
"What do you want, Mom?" I ask, my voice dropping to a flat, defensive register.
"I just wanted to see how you were doing," she says, the forced, bright tone in her voice making my skin crawl. "It’s been so long. I know we left things on bad terms, but I’ve been doing better. I really have. I have a new job, and I’m trying to get my finances in order."
She hesitates, the silence on the line stretching out.
"I got a letter in the mail yesterday," she continues, her voice dropping to a nervous whisper.
"From a collection agency. They said my medical debts were paid in full.
The entire balance. And the... the other people.
The ones I owed money to on the South Side.
They called me. They said the account was settled. "
I close my eyes, pressing the heel of my hand against my forehead.
I erased it. I paid off the remaining medical collections.
Malcolm fixed the problem. He buried the debt to protect me from Preston. But he didn't realize that by paying off the syndicate, he was sending a massive, neon flare directly to my mother.
"Did you do it, Audrey?" she asks, the desperate hope in her voice suffocating me. "Did your new fiancé pay them off?"
"Mom, I can't talk about this right now," I say, my voice tight.
"Audrey, please. If he has that kind of money... I just need a little help to get back on my feet. Just a small loan to secure an apartment. I promise I’ll pay it back. He won't even notice it’s gone."
The knot in my stomach twists into a sharp, violent ache.
It never ends. The cycle never ends. She will always find a way to ask for more, and she will always use guilt as the lever to pry it out of me.
"I have to go," I whisper.
"Audrey, don't hang up! Please, I—"
I end the call.
I drop the phone onto the desk. My hands are shaking. The calm, secure world I have been living in for the last three days shatters completely.
I stand up from the drafting table. The room starts to feel too small. The walls are closing in.
I walk out of the office, my bare feet silent on the floor. I need to get out of the apartment. I need air.
I walk into the living room. Malcolm is sitting on the sofa, the book resting open on his knee. He looks up as I walk in, his dark eyes instantly catching the panic on my face.
He drops the book and stands up. "Audrey?"
"I need to go for a walk," I say, my voice cracking. I don't stop moving. I walk past him, heading straight for the foyer.
"Audrey, stop." He catches my arm before I can reach the front door. His grip is firm, but not bruising. He turns me around to face him. "What happened? You are hyperventilating."
"My mother called," I gasp, the words tearing out of my throat. "She saw the news. She got the letter about the debt."
Malcolm’s jaw tightens. He understands instantly.
"She asked for money," he states, his voice dropping to a cold, absolute register.
"She always asks for money." I pull my arm out of his grip, wrapping my hands around my waist. "She thinks because I’m marrying you, I have an endless supply of cash to fix her mistakes. It’s never going to stop, Malcolm. Preston was right. I am a liability."
"Do not ever repeat anything my father said to you," Malcolm orders softly, stepping into my space. He reaches out, framing my face with his hands. "You are not a liability."
"You don't understand." A tear spills over my lashes, hot and humiliating. "If I give her money, she’ll gamble it away. If I don't give her money, she’ll go to the press. She’ll tell them I abandoned her. She’ll ruin the narrative."
"Let her."
I blink, staring up at him. "What?"
"Let her go to the press," Malcolm says, his thumbs wiping the tears from my cheeks. "Let her tell them whatever she wants. I do not care about the narrative anymore, Audrey. I care about you."
He drops his hands from my face, sliding them down to grip my wrists. He pulls my hands away from my waist, forcing me to uncross my arms.
"You spent your entire life trying to manage other people’s chaos," he murmurs, his dark eyes burning into mine. "You tried to fix Simon. You tried to fix your mother. You tried to build a perfect, untouchable image so no one could see the cracks."
He steps closer, the physical heat of his body anchoring me to the floor.
"You don't have to fix anything anymore," he says quietly. "If she calls again, you block the number. If she goes to the press, we ignore it. You are not responsible for her choices."
"It’s not that easy," I whisper, my voice breaking.
"It is exactly that easy." He leans down, pressing a hard, grounding kiss to my forehead. "You are my wife, Audrey. In three days, it will be a legal fact. You are a Vance now. And the only person you are responsible for protecting is yourself."
I close my eyes, the absolute, terrifying weight of his words settling deep in my chest.
He is right. I am not the girl who has to answer the phone anymore. I am not the girl who has to apologize for things she didn't do.
I open my eyes, looking up at the man who burned his world down to save me.
"Okay," I breathe, the panic finally receding. "Okay."
Malcolm doesn't smile, but the fierce, protective tension in his shoulders drops slightly. He pulls me flush against his chest, wrapping his arms securely around my back.
"We are not going for a walk," he murmurs into my hair. "We are going back to your office. You have a floor plan to finish."
I let out a wet, shaky laugh, burying my face in his shirt.
"You are a tyrant," I whisper.
"I am efficient," he corrects softly.
He turns me around, keeping his arm anchored around my waist, and guides me back toward the guest wing.
The universe tried to introduce a variable. It tried to drag me back into the dark.
But as I walk down the hallway with Malcolm Vance, I know the darkness doesn't stand a chance.