One

I am stalking my wife. I am cyberstalking her with no intention of stopping.

Her figure moves across the screen of my laptop, I follow it with a sad smile making its way to my lips. It still feels so surreal, almost like yesterday when she asked for a divorce with teary eyes. I can still smell her on me, the new shampoo enriched with a mix of unidentified fruits. I never got to ask her the name.

The memories wash over me, I slouch in the seat and allow myself to relive them. To feel them like I have done for five years. My eyelids flutter open, it takes a second for me to process the new view, I realise I have been transported back to the mansion, to our room. Back to that day when everything fell apart.

“I killed him,” I whispered.

I glanced at her pregnant frame seated on the edge of the bed, the thick cover hanging from her chest was the only item of clothing she had on. She stared at me with a lost expression, I squirmed in my seat.

“You deserve me, Brandon Stark. I love and will always want you.”

That was what she said minutes ago to ease me into confessing, that was why I waited, searched her face to see if there was any truth to that statement now that my secret was out. El snapped out of her trance, lacing our fingers, she offered me her beautiful, bright smile that brought a gleam to her brown eyes. If I ever came back to earth, I would do this again with her—this marriage but I would do it better.

“Brandon,” she said with a sigh so deep her chest visibly deflated. “You cannot keep blaming yourself for everything bad that happens around you. Bad things will always happen, bad people will always exist and we cannot control them. We cannot stop certain things from happening.” I closed my eyes to avoid her kind gaze, she didn’t get it. In this case, I was the bad guy, these things were in my control. I made them happen. Her voice floated to my ears. “I know Brendan died in a car accident. It’s not your fault.”

“It is, Elna,” I whispered. Chills raced down my spine, I shivered. Maybe if I lowered my voice enough, my memory would vaporise and I wouldn’t have to be in this damned position. “Please don’t exonerate me.”

Opening my eyes to her worried expression, I yanked my hand from her grip. Hurt flashed across her pretty face, overshadowing my need to be far away from her. I stroked her cheeks until the worry lines faded and her lips curled into that smile reserved for only me. Would I get to see this smile again when she finally processed my confession? Already losing myself in her gaze, I pulled back and she pouted.

If she received this news well, I would be whatever she wanted, do all she requested without complaints. I needed her in my life. I needed her to stay, to continue loving me without hesitations. “Brendan...” My voice quivered, I took a deep breath and said, “Brendan caused Brianna’s accident, he was the driver.”

Assaulted by memories, I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes. The idiot should have listened to me for once in his miserable, jealous life. He should have let us solve the issue like two grown adults instead of blackmailing me with a child I was yet to claim as mine. She was so close, a few more signatures, extra papers and she would have been mine, rocking in my arms. I didn't get to witness her childhood, when I tried to make up for that, he took her from me. So I took him too, wiped him off the surface of the earth.

“He was the driver and he got out without a scratch,” I continued. He escaped the vehicle without a cut while my princess was riddled with so many injuries it was hard to recognise her three-year-old body. She didn’t deserve any of that, the days at the hospital, none of it. “I told him to stay far away from my daughter but he refused. Brianna was his winning card but she was my daughter first. Her before him.”

Anger consumed me for remembering that incident, I stared at the tiled floors, at the blurry image of Brendan that appeared. I could never forget his vicious smile, the hatred in his voice when he mentioned the accident, the lies he spun to avoid taking the blame. It had been so long since it happened but if I looked close enough at my reflection in the mirror, the one thing that always reminded me of how alike we were, I would see him. See his lips moving as he laughed in my face, informed me about the secret I was hiding. He should have let it be. Let the adoption process take place before he started the threats.

I shrugged. “So he had to die the same way.”

It made sense then as I tampered with the brake of his car, touched a few things in the engine to make it seem like a normal incident. Damien was the backup plan but there was never a use for him. He must be enjoying his new life in Maldives. Brendan should have been like him, he should have listened to me.

“Through an accident. Brianna should have died in that car crash but she didn’t,” I said with a sadistic chuckle. Stupid Brendan. He should have returned to the scene, left no evidence behind. With that behaviour, how did he expect me to comfortably give up the CEO position for him? Now, I reigned on the throne he was willing to risk everything for. “And unlike him, I make no mistakes. He stood no chance.”

On a sigh, I relaxed in the chair, drowning under the weight of my confession. In some weird way, it felt good, a strange kind of relief at having shared this darkest part of me with someone else. Having held it in for too long, I was relieved to let go. I looked at my wife’s pale face, the hour of reckoning had come.

“Knowing this, do you still want me?”

El tucked her hands between her legs, the cover slid to her laps but none of us noticed.

“Do you regret it?” she asked.

Silence was my enemy, threatening to choke me the longer I failed to provide her with an answer. Some of my confidence wore off, I shook my head. I didn’t regret it at all. “No.” It was like that one time I stole Father’s credit card to make an online purchase. I didn’t regret it but I felt awful weeks later because it was an impractical purchase. Still, given the chance, I might have done it again. “No. But I feel bad.”

The ensuing silence was too much, too loud, she avoided my gaze and pulled the cover over her chest. I strolled to the bathroom to give her time to process this. Clutching the edge of the sink, I gawked at my bloodshot eyes and inhaled. I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t lose my wife. She was the light in this darkness.

With that in mind, I returned to our empty bedroom. Stunned, I stood in the centre of the room, staring at the bed she made hastily with my hands akimbo. She needed space to handle this, I could understand.

Could I? What if she left? I might be a brother killer but I didn't want to be alone, I needed her to stay.

Putting on the first shirt I touched, I stormed out of the room and my blood ran cold at the sight of El at the foot of the stairs. My feet refused to move, I muttered in a voice barely above a whisper, “Wifey?”

Her whimpers drilled a hole into the fog in my brain, sending a sharp signal to my legs. I rushed down the stairs, heart beating in my throat as I neared her motionless figure. She was not moving. Why? Why was my wife not moving? I crouched in front of her, pressing two fingers to the pulse point on her wrist.

Okay, there was a pulse. I inhaled. There was a pulse. She was alive, she was fine. My eyes jerked to her face, her eyelids fluttered but remained closed. Guilt twisted my insides, I caressed her cheeks. I did this.

It was my fault.

“I think I’m bleeding,” she whispered. Her head rolled back and my heart plummeted with it.

True to her words, there was blood between her legs. I swept her off her feet, gentle as I skipped past the doors and into the garage. Tears blurred my vision, I gave her hand one last squeeze and fired the car.

Nice one, karma, you got me. You waited this long to get me. I punched the steering, yelled. It fucking hurt. It hurt everywhere, mostly my heart, that part of me I thought would never beat for a woman.

The ride to the hospital was a blurred frenzy, the only good part was I didn’t push anyone’s car out of the road. I was screaming for the doctor at the top of my lungs as soon as I drove in through the gates. A stretcher was brought out, I followed behind, teeth sinking into my knuckles as my wife was wheeled in.

“Wait outside,” one of the nurses said.

Faces blurred into one another, their white coats made it trickier and my brain was too fried for me to think. Smothered by the smell of antiseptic peculiar to hospitals, I lost the ability to argue and collapsed to the cold metal bench in the empty corridor. Tension built in my joints, I whimpered. Last time I was this disorganized at a hospital, I took Brianna home in a vegetative state. So, I had to calm the fuck down.

Elna was not Brianna. She was stronger, she was grown, she would be fine. We would resolve this and be a small, happy family again. Folding my hands behind my head, I swayed from side to side, my eyes stung with tears that eventually leaked to my cheeks. I married a strong woman. She would be fine. She had to.

* * * 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hi,

If you are reading this, it's safe to assume you already read book one (Mr Reluctant Billionaire). If you haven't, I suggest you do so to understand book two.

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