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He laughed again. “That was all contingent on you holding up your end of the bargain. Which you obviously didn’t do. And now that you’ve shown the world what a whore you are, you can pay your own bills. Good luck with that.”
And then he ended the call.
Panic filled my brain.
Being seen making out with Cash was one thing.
Having the world find out—everything—was something completely different.
They couldn’t find out.
They just couldn’t.
Desperately, I dialed the one number I never wanted to call.
“Hello, Jillian,” Phillip’s slimy voice entered my ear. “I was expecting your call. I just finished watching the video my son sent me.”
I inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. “I’ll pay you back. Just please, don’t say anything about my mom.”
His villainous laugh made my blood freeze. A horrible burning set up behind my eyes—but I couldn’t lose it now.
No.
There would be time to lose it.
Later.
“Do you really think,” I heard him lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag of it, “after you just humiliated my son in front of the whole fucking world—that I would bother to keep any of your secrets? If that’s what you think?” His voice lowered, and sounded more sinister, “Then you’re even more batshit crazy than your mother.” He disconnected, and I immediately felt sick to my stomach. I’d promised my mom that no one would ever find out about her illness.
She only asked that one thing from me. “Please, Jillybean. I don’t want anyone to know,” her words echoed in my head.
And that was exactly what I’d been doing the last few years since her diagnosis. When it was time for her to enter fulltime care, I had to buckle down and really start making some money.
Phillip had been my mom’s manager for years. And he’d laid everything out on the table for me.
Mom didn’t have a whole lot of money left. Certainly not enough to keep her in the luxury, full-time care home that we’d chosen. The owners—and workers—all signed NDAs. They wouldn’t blab about my mother’s condition.
Yes, it was getting more and more difficult to explain away her absences. But I’d do what I had to do to keep my word to my mom.
Even agreeing to marry a douche canoe.
Even giving my rose to that douche canoe.
Instead of the love of my life.
Yes.
I’d do anything to keep my mother safe. Even if it meant throwing away my dreams of a happily ever after.
When Phillip had first put his offer on the table, I’d actually laughed. Out and out laughed at him.
He’d told me if I agreed to give his son my rose—on National television—and agreed to marry Stuart—that he would make sure my mom was always taken care of.
I still had to make as much money as I possibly could.
I lived cheaply, so that was never a question.
The one thing we couldn’t do, though, was sell mom’s house. Phillip said it would bring too much attention to my mom. And people would wonder where she was and why she was selling.
