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“I hate you,” I say one last time. “But a part of me has to forgive you because I can’t resent our son because of who his father is.”
“Adora.” I turn to my right, and Joey’s standing there. Scott reaches out and grips me with his free hand to keep himself upright.
“You came for me,” I say, tears heating my eyes. I’m stunned they found me out here.
“Always.”
I smile and look back at Scott. Leaning over him, I place my lips on Scott’s cheek, giving him a soft kiss. Then I whisper close to his ear, “I’m not her, Scott, and never will be,” before I shoot him. He falls backward, blood splatters across my face, and I wonder what on earth I just did as I gape down at his body.
It’s been a while since I took someone’s life—my father’s my first, and I was hoping my last.But the nanny…
Scott lies there, unmoving, as Lucas walks up behind him.
“Didn’t think you had it in you,” he remarks.
I ignore him and focus on Joey. “Jerome?” I ask, wiping the blood from my face.
“Safe,” is all he gives me, and my heart beats again.
“Your mother?” I ask.
“Also safe.”
I drop the gun from my fingers with relief, and it falls like a stone to the ground. “I would like to see her,” I tell him in a desperate plea.
“You’re covered in blood.”
“I need to see her. Please,” I plead with him again.
He nods and walks over, then pulls his shirt from his body and hands it to me. “Take yours off and wipe your face. Then put this on.”
I nod, reaching for my shirt. “Lucas, look the fuck away.”
“What? Like I haven’t seen tits before.” He huffs but turns around.
I pull it off, and Joey gently helps me clean my face.
“You’re bleeding.” He scans my body. The pain of my wounds is mostly gone, but that could be from the adrenaline overload coursing through my veins. “I heard you got him as well.” I look past Joey to Scott’s body.
A part of me hurts for Jerome.
What am I meant to tell him?That I killed his father?
Will he grow up hating me the same way Abigail did?
A tear falls free from my eye and slides down my cheek.
“You didn’t do it, I did. Let me take the blame.” Joey’s hands cup my face and turn me to look at him.
“I had to do it,” I whisper.
“You did.” His hands are so soft and warm. “And so did I.”
“I have to go,” I tell him more urgently. “Ineedto go.”
“Here.” He hands me his shirt, and my eyes can’t help but rake over him as he stands in front of me.
“You really are beautiful,” I say, looking up at him again.
