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“Bastard!” Mia snapped.
Jasmine looked around the room, taking in the three concerned faces. Her sisters’ support never wavered. “I feel like the dirtiest person. I’m a failure as a woman, as a mother. I’m a slut just like he said. My mother knew it, and that’s why she killed herself.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. She gasped in an attempt to suck in oxygen. A weight settled over her chest, making inhaling impossible. Panic strangled her.
Three sets of arms surrounded her, holding her close.
“Deep breaths, Jasmine.”
“We got you, sweetie.”
“We’re here.”
“You’re safe.”
“You’re so much stronger than you know.”
“You’re not a mistake. You’re a survivor.”
“Deep breaths—one, two, three, four. Now let it out. Four, three, two, one,” Mia guided her.
Her sisters’ voices offered her comfort. It conflicted with the voices inside screaming that she wasn’t good enough. That it was all her fault. The shame that had seeped into her bones had consumed her since her earliest memories. Her sisters quieted the voices as the women held her tight. Their tears mixed with her own. She closed her eyes, clung to their combined power. She’d be safe to let it all fall apart while they kept guard.
* * *
Five days had passed since Atlas had left without a word. It was a struggle to get out of bed in the morning. Her family had stepped in to take over breakfast duties with the guests. She shouldn’t let them, but she couldn’t find the energy to argue or the motivation to do it herself. The numbness had settled deep into her bones. The familiar dark cloud blocked out the sun. A depressive episode, as Belle called it.
All she knew was that she felt empty inside. She didn’t want to be alive, craved the thought of walking out into the waves and never coming back up. But at the same time, those same thoughts terrified her. Because she could never leave her daughter. Jasmine had promised Zoey as she still grew inside her womb that she would be nothing like her own mother.
Zoey curled up next to her, sleeping in her arms. Jasmine traced her finger around her small, round face, over her eyebrows, down her button nose. Jasmine’s eyes burned with tears. Her precious, innocent daughter didn’t deserve any of this. Zoey was her reason to keep going. I’ll make it through this for you. I’ll be better. For Zoey, she’d do anything.
A soft knock rapped against her door. She slid out of the bed before tucking the pillows around Zoey so she wouldn’t roll off the mattress. She crept on bare feet to the entrance and opened it. Bently towered over her from the other side. His gaze flicked to Zoey.
“Let’s talk downstairs.”
She grabbed the portable baby monitor and closed the door behind her before following him to the shared living room. She only had one room booked, and those guests had gone out. It was just her and Bently, and the weight of his oppressive big-brother stare. She sat on the couch, hugging a grey pillow in front of her. Bently handed her a folder.
“What’s this?”
“Background check on Atlas and Oliver Remington. I had my PI friend in the city dig up what he could.”
She cringed. It felt like a violation to look. But did she owe them anything? Atlas had made it clear he’d come there to use her all along. Just like Oliver had, apparently. Her loyalty was to her daughter. So, she flipped the file open.
“They are loaded. They both work for their family’s company, Remington Empire. Oliver is married, going on seven years.”
She nodded.
“And his wife is newly pregnant.”
She sucked in a breath. Zoey was going to have a half-sibling.
“Do you want to file for custody? You can get back child support, and—”
She waved her hand in the air, halting her brother’s speech. “I just want to be left alone. I don’t want anything from them.”
“But, Jaz, you’re barely surviving here. You deserve some help,” Bently argued, sitting close to her.
“I want Zoey to have a father in her life who will cherish her the way she deserves. I don’t care about who he is or his money. I can take care of my daughter.”
He shook his head.
