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“I won’t offer more, Ms. Galanos. The price goes down by half when you leave here. I don’t want to give you anything. But this nonsense has already taken up a lot of my time.”
“I’m no longer interested in a payment.” She casually tosses the words into the ring.
“Then what the hell do you want?” I snarl, letting anger hide my budding panic. Money is my only damn leverage. I worked my ass off to have enough so that nothing could touch me.
“I want to make sure your adoring fans, your friends, and business partners, everyone who’s connected to you, or knows about your company understands who you really are.”
Weak, powerless, incapable of fighting back.
“I’ll deny everything,” I say firmly. The psychologist’s words still echo in my mind from all those years ago when I was Terrance Montgomery. But I refuse to be held captive by my past. I set myself free. No one can trap me again.
“Do you think I found a job at this gym, flirted with you, slept with you—”
“Why did you fuck me?” I cut in.
“To get close to you. I worked hard to assume a new identity, just like you did. When I went to the media, I needed them to believe me. As your girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, I knew they would listen. I didn’t come all this way to be dismissed.”
“I legally changed my name,” I say.
“I know. And I followed your example. I took my father’s last name. Then I moved to New York, and brought with me the photos and so much more.”
“Bullshit.” I want to call her bluff, dammit, and get the hell out of this room that smells like old gym socks. I want to escape this woman and my past.
“The police took my mother’s official records when they shut down her business. But after she killed herself, I found the boxes of photographs and journals from your case and others. You know, she wanted to find a way to help you. My mother was building a case against your foster family.”
“That’s what she told the prosecutor,” I say. “They didn’t buy the excuse any more than I do. If she wanted to help, why did she leave me there for over a decade? It couldn’t possibly take that long to build a case. Not when the prosecutors put one together in a matter of months.”
“My mother cared about you,” she insists, her voice dropping low. I can hear her Greek accent now. The one she’s hidden for the past few months. “She cared, and you destroyed her. She lost everything. My father walked out before I was born. And because of you, her license to run her adoption agency was taken away along with her ability to support her family. We were left with shame.”
There are tears in Alexandra’s eyes now. She’s furious and heartbroken all at once. And I realize, looking at her determined expression, that Kayla was right. I’m battling a woman who wants the same thing I do—revenge. We’re both fighting to repair wounds that run so deep they are impossible to heal. We’re fighting for fucking Band-Aids, something, anything that will ease the pain, or at the very least, hide the scars.
“Alexandra—”
“Do you think she wanted to raise us in Greece? We lived with my grandparents in the mountains, barely making ends meet after she lost her agency. My brothers hated her for uprooting their lives and taking them to a country where they didn’t speak the language. She was so sad. And then she killed herself!” Her voice is rising now and she takes a step toward me. I don’t back away.
“She was diagnosed with cancer and decided it was her due for her crimes. After all that time, she still blamed herself for all of the kids she failed, including her own. Including me.”
“I’m sorry you lost your mother, Alexandra. But I won’t let you dig up my past.”
“You can’t stop me,” she snaps. “I’m going to tear you apart. Reporters are calling me now. Not just the morning shows and gossip columnists who will drop the story as soon as you announce the designer for your bride’s gown. Real reporters have questions about you.”
I knew it was only a matter of time, but I don’t like hearing it confirmed.
“I’m going to show them the journals. Then everyone will know you’re not some perfect tech genius, the hot eligible bachelor.” She waves her hands through the air. “They’ll know you destroyed my mother.”
“That won’t change the value of my company.” It’s a bluff because I’m guessing she’s realized that admitting to lying about everything from your name to where you grew up doesn’t exactly inspire confidence when you lead a major venture. And it will likely prevent me from taking the business public one day.
“I don’t want to destroy your business. I want to hurt you.”
I’m tempted to take a step back because she’s looking a little crazy right now. And if this fight does turn physical, I can’t raise a hand to her, even if she strikes first.
“How will you feel when the world no longer sees you as New York’s most eligible bachelor?”
“I’ll be just fine,” I lie. Then I walk past her. “We’re done here, Alexandra.”
“And if I destroy Kayla Greene?” she calls after me.
I am an arm’s length away from the push bar on the door. I could walk away now because I know she can’t
