Page 127 of The Contract Marriage

She shuts up.

“You ran her over. And I’m never going to forget that because you meant to kill her. And you”—I turn to Hugh—“you covered for her. Washed the car, then cremated Pochi before I could say a word. Even got rid of the ashes before I could claim them.”

“You were hysterical! It was for your own good,” Hugh says. “Look at you. Even now you’re paranoid. Claiming everyone was out to kill your mother and your dog. They were both accidental deaths.”

“Exactly!” Brielle adds. “I didn’t mean to—” She stops abruptly.

I sneer. They sound like a bunch of broken records. “I know. Nobody ever means to. But does it matter? The outcome is the same—my mom died, then my dog died. At your hands.”

Deena and Brielle stare at me like I’m the boogeyman they never knew lived in their closet.

“Let’s be honest. Mom was your ATM. So was I. You’re just pissed that your card is about to be cut up. Will Winston still act like your buddy and let you test drive all those expensive Lambos? Will you still be welcomed into those parties you love when you’re penniless?”

“You’ve become so materialistic. Constance would be ashamed of how you’re acting,” Hugh says bitterly.

Does he honestly believe he can hurt me with words, after what he’s put me through over the last twenty years? “Yes, well, I’m going to love to see the three of you try to support yourselves without Mom’s money. You know, you being so nonmaterialistic and all.”

They glare at me for a moment, then deflate like popped balloons as they realize that I won’t budge. I stare at them. How pathetic they are now.

And they took away so much from me. All because I was too weak to protect those I loved the most. I put a hand over my belly. I’ll never allow them to touch my baby. I’ll make sure of it.

“Throw them off the property,” I tell the blond security guard.

“Yes, ma’am.” He moves over to Hugh. “Time to go.”

“You wouldn’t dare! You can’t just kick us out. We have rights as tenants,” Brielle says suddenly.

“Good luck proving that. I don’t recall you paying rent. You were never tenants, just little leeching trust beneficiaries.” I stand and watch the men drag them, struggling, down the driveway and throw them out beyond the gates like trash, then form a human wall to prevent them from coming back inside.

Once that’s done, I turn to the house. It stands like a relic of my innocence and happiness I can never get back.

I look down at the broken fountain, then back at the house. Through the open door I can see the stairs.

“Hugh’s finished,” I murmur. “Justice is served, Mom.” My voice cracks. “And now… You can rest in peace with Pochi.”

A warm breeze strokes my cheeks. I feel like I can smell Mom’s roses, even though the garden doesn’t have them anymore.

Mrs. Moore hands me a Kleenex. “Are you all right?” she whispers, her voice shaky.

I smile through the tears. “I’ll be fine. I always am.”

Chapter Fifty-Three

Liam

I turn my head the second Angelo walks into Rhys’s home. “How did it go?”

“Satisfying. Dragged them out like little rats.” Angelo rolls his enormous shoulders. “They all squealed, but…” He flexes his arms.

“They didn’t try to do anything, did they? Get violent or…?”

“Nope. They looked like lost dogs. But that’s mean to dogs because they’re cute.” He thinks for a second. “Actually, more like…tapeworms. Like, if you could grab hold of a tapeworm and start pulling it out of someone’s ass? It’d be covered in shit, and it would wiggle and try to crawl back up into—”

Rhys looks pained. “That’s enough, Angelo. I’m not going to be able to eat tonight. Ugh.” He puts his head in his hand.

As graphic as Angelo’s description is, it’s a relief to know everything went well. Hugh, Deena and Brielle wouldn’t have been able to do anything against Angelo and the people he handpicked to back my wife up. I knew she would confront Hugh’s family soon after leaving the hospital, so I quietly arranged for security for her just in case.

Part of me wanted to be there, badly, to lend her my strength and presence. However, she’s said repeatedly that isn’t what she wants.