I deserve nothing, and I will never ask for something else from her except for her to live. I have to save her. Afterward, I have no plan. For the first time, I have no plan.
And last year, I had her. She was mine again, but I was too damn afraid she would put me through something similar again. Like the coward I was, I fancied the trickery of control. Not only throwing her out but making her feel dirty. Yet, all the while, I was the filthy one, taking it further and sealing my faith for good with a contract signed in blood, my blood. No soap could ever rinse away the thick layers of dirt and guilt off me.
She has been mine while I have forgotten the number of the women I’ve slept with. And I promised her it would be a sacred thing, our lovemaking, but I was the one who broke the pact only hours later. No, I can’t even find it in me to forgive myself, so why should my Bria ever do it?
How often did my sister warn me to wake up? Yet, outraged, I refused every time. Sophia saw her fading away while everyone else except Filip ignored it as if it were normal for a person to act like Bria. And I indulged them all in their blindness because I had never considered her side of the story.
I am not a victim but a criminal. I’ve destroyed Bria’s life and the life of our unborn baby.
What have I done? The pain snaps everything inside of me. She has been so brave for such a long time; her pain must have been tremendous if her mind numbed her. It’s not fucking fair that Bria’s time ebbs away. No, I won’t accept this.
Even now, when she has evidence and knows she’s innocent, Bria does what she thinks is the only thing she can control—she protects me from the truth of Monica‘s actions. Believing that I love Monica—another thing to blame on myself. The same with our families so they can go on with their lives like nothing is wrong. She also shields our siblings by not allowing them to glimpse behind the complexities of her illness and the walls around her.
She is tired.
So am I, still, I’ll carry her through the hell of pain and life and more.
She is empty inside. Well, she can take from me whatever she desires and needs.
It is me, in the end, who might get through to her. I shoved her toward the abyss the first time. Now, we will fall together, or I’ll develop wings to fly down into the crater so I can raise her up.
I can never undo my wrongs—I welcome the misery. However, I can’t accept her giving up on her life. I got through once, unaware of her walls and her illness, and I’ll do it again because now I know what is at stake—her life. If it doesn’t mean much to her, too bad, but for me, her life means everything.
With my heart in my hands, and determination coursing through me to save her, I jump to my feet and stride through the now almost empty ballroom toward the elevator.
The elevator door slides open with a ping as I step inside and press the third-floor button. I rest my head on the cold surface, thinking she has to be in her hotel room. If she refuses to answer, I will smash the door down.
When the elevator doors slide open to her floor, the amount of my regrets and responsibility weighs me down. I feel like the titan, Atlas, as he realizes he has to carry the weight of the celestial heavens on his shoulders forever.
Here I come, baby. A desperate man crawling to you, my love, asking for forgiveness he doesn’t deserve, craving to save you.
There it is—Room 305. I stand in front of the dark wooden door catching my breath. When the door unlocks, the hell of pain will unleash until we break for good or ascend from the depths like phoenixes.
BRIA
My nails scratch at my skin, and pain oozes from me. Everything hurts. I feel so much. The force of my emotional state crushes me after an entire year of feeling nothing at all. Everything was going according to plan, and then Alex had to ruin it by showing me that video and answering the question I long ago quit asking myself. I accepted my guilt and my illness, the loss of my baby, and even knowing I might have been abused, and I could do nothing to change it, so I took the blame for everything I lost.
Now, Alex has given me the complete story. I throw my heels in different corners of the room and pace barefoot on the carpet.
Nothing soothes the tension spreading through me. I’m incapable of supporting the walls I’ve built around me. For a whole year, I have been rebuilding them from scratch. I thought they were impenetrable. I avoided Damien, for he was the only person who could take down my walls with a look or a word. I stopped going to family gatherings and became this perfect emotionless recluse, accustoming them to my not being around anymore.
This entire plan was my baby, and as with my first one, somebody had the power to rip it from me and leave me with empty, outstretched hands. But nothing will change. No one will ever know of Monica’s involvement in this family drama. Damien loves her, and I will let him have his second chance at love, even if it’s with her. I don’t have it in me anymore to hate her. I’ve suspected she had feelings for him. I recall how she seemed to blossom whenever Damien came around, how her round, brown eyes would shine with happiness only when he gave her some of his attention. How she would snap at me over nothing one moment but borrowed my clothes the next. How she eyed him with what I know now is longing. Whenever she came back from boarding school, she sought only Damien or my mom out. But considering all she went through with losing her parents, I read nothing more into it. A sigh escapes my battered body, and my head drops. I never thought she would be so desperate to concoct such a devious plan to incriminate me with no remorse. And they accused me of being ice cold.
I assume she’ll celebrate when news of my passing reaches her.
The past is in the past where it belongs. I have no future anyway, so let her have one. Don’t be selfish, Bria. The love of your life hates you. Let him be happy with Monica. You got what you wished for . . . him finding happiness and love, let it go like you asked him to do too. He ceased being yours a long time ago. The final proof of your undying love for him is to let him be together with the one person who didn’t grant happiness to you.
I repeat these things to myself until my head throbs, and I begin to accept my own words. I plop on the bed and pound the mattress to suppress the contradictory emotions battling inside me. I am dying. We have lost too much and will never be able to get anything back.
No one can ever undo the past.
Of two things I am still certain. First, my heart’s giving up on me.
Second, Damien hates me. His words cut me deep, the last fuel for my fall. He has always been my weakness, and he will always be the love of my life, the father of my unborn child, and the master of my destruction. The one jolting my heart only to thrust me right back in the arms of numbness.
I have two more things to do this evening before bed. I need to call reception, get aspirin, and then call Quinn.
Five minutes later, I spring from the bed at the knock, and open the door to housekeeping with the aspirin. I thank and tip her, close the door behind me and pick up my smartphone that lays abandoned on the nightstand.
I call Quinn’s number, and a baritone like but familiar voice greets me, “Hello, sweetie.”
Oh, not tonight, Dad. You can stop pretending.
“I know what you did, Quinn. Alex showed me the police video. My curiosity is piqued. How did you think I would react?” I sit on the armchair, my elbow resting on my thigh and my palm supporting my head.
“At least you answer with an unfamiliar fire in your voice. I did what I had to do. You won’t get any mea culpa from me.”
His voice exudes defiance. If I tried, I’m sure I could understand the reason behind his actions. Wouldn’t I have done the same? Probably, maybe, or not.
“I have to be your worst investment. You put so much in such a broken girl. I never evolved into womanhood because I’m stuck in my past. It hurts so much . . .” I cry as I rise to my feet only to stumble on the edge of the creamy sofa, my head too heavy to keep it up any longer. Quinn’s mollifying voice worsens my state.
“Sweetie, w
hen we first met, we were both broken inside. Instead of accepting our impending deaths, we kept each other alive.”
Through a hiccup, I say, “I am sorry, believe me, I am because, in my numbness, I forgot both you and Alex have feelings, feelings I’ve never taken into consideration because I couldn’t. Please, forgive me for everything I put you through and continue to do.”
He sighs, and it affects me in ways I thought I overcame.
“You are like the daughter I never had. You gave me more than you are aware of. I have nothing to forgive you for. It’s my burden to carry knowing I did everything to save you, but it was still not enough.”
“I’m tired, Dad. You have to let me go. It’s time.”
I rock myself. On the other side of the line, his heavy breaths echo in the silence. I can’t take it anymore.
“Thank you for everything. I built my legacy because of you and all you taught me. Accept that it’s too late. There is no happy ending for me. We both know the damage to my heart is irreparable.”
“Bria, you can still choose in what is potentially your last battle, and you can win instead of choosing not to fight, leaving everyone behind believing the lie you have prepared for the last several years.”
“It’s too late,” I counter.
“Stop allowing the blackness to control you.”
I massage my temples as I plead with him, “Please, let’s end this conversation so we both can find a little rest tonight.”
Frustration oozes in waves from him. It ignites the pile of guilt I hold on to. I dig my fingers into my palms and sigh.
“The limousine will pick you up at nine o’clock. I’ll wait for you in the jet, which will take you to the island. “
“Enjoy the rest of what’s left from the oblivion theme party.”
“Likewise, sweetie.”
Hmm, not possible anymore, I think, while fisting the edge of the couch’s velvet-like fabric.
“I’m past that. At the moment, I’m facing quite the opposite.”
“And I will live these next hours waiting for a miracle.”
Why can’t I find it in me the resolve to stay and take the risk? What is it that I need to break away from the darkness? I lean my head against the frame, gazing at the powder-white ceiling.
“Miracles happen only to believers, Quinn. You taught me not to hope in vain, not to dream my life away, and not to procrastinate. If I desire something, anything, I do it myself, go after it, grab it, and bend it to my will. I would hate for you to be disappointed when you don’t get your wonder.”
“But it’s what I have left. Let me envision a miracle occurs, and tomorrow I lead you to a new beginning and not toward your end.”
I seal my eyes and murmur, “Good night, Dad.”
“Good night, sweetie. Love you.” Quinn hangs up, no doubt knowing better than to wait for a response I can’t bring out of my mouth. My hands drop at my sides, and my phone tumbles to the floor. Restlessness jolts me out of my limp state. I stretch to the window, lean on its frame, and watch the last party guests scrambling to find their way to their cabs.
There is an urgent and incessant knock on the door, startling me out of my stupor, and I sigh, “Alex, just go . . . please. I need to be by myself tonight.”
The knocks keep up. I’m not in the right mental and emotional state for Alex’s insistence. I storm to the door, swing it open, and halfway shout, “Stop it. What . . .” but my words get caught in my throat. Standing in front of me is the one person I thought I’d never see again. An eerie and pale Damien warped with a great pained expression, and disheveled hair meets me.
What happened to him? Sorrow and misery mar his features. He looks as if he’s aged overnight, deep lines crease his forehead, hooded and sunken lids, and white-purple lips replace the carnal reddish ones. I am rendered immobile at his appearance until he steps inside, and I backtrack. His steel-blue eyes bore into me as he shoves the door shut behind him. He collapses at my feet, his head leaning against the wooden frame. With this one action and in one moment, my heart gallops in my chest and reminds me I’m still alive.
Why? I glance up at the ceiling and whine.
All this lost time, and now doubts crawl over me as I call on a self-preservation instinct I smashed long ago.
BRIA
His bloodshot eyes seal on mine, and his voice cracks, “I am done, Bria.” He raises a hand exposing the inside of his palm as I trace the fine and long lines carving it with my eyes. “I came to give you something back. My heart. It’s yours, Bria, and always has been. Mend it or smash it!”
His words and torn expression snap something inside me. He grabs me and scoops me into his lap. Tears run down his pain-distorted face, and I sob in response. I can’t suppress the pain any longer. I rest my head on his chest, and his arms wrap around me. We sit on the floor, an entangled mess of broken hearts and sad sounds.
The urge to caress him, to ease his pain, overwhelms me. I can’t rein in myself even after everything that’s happened. He’s the one I can never turn away from, my other half. I feel truly possessed and under the power of something strong enough to make me surrender my all to him. I am far from caring if he will hurt me anymore. I’ve been on the receiving end for a long time now. Yes, I suppose he might show some sort of disturbed rejection and hurl cruel words my way, but, as always, I will take it for what it is—his particular coping mechanism.
“How can you even touch me?”
I freeze with my hand midway in the air. The last time we were together, he said he despised me. Likely sensing my turmoil, he grabs my hand in his and trails kisses down my wrist. His gesture has something reverent in it. I can’t seem to peel my eyes away.
“Bria, how can you want to touch me, the person who caused you the most pain? Comfort the one person who’s not at all worthy of it? Me, the one who said those horrible things to you back then, terrible lies out of the mouth of a complete sinner?”
I stare at him in disbelief, and a fine line spreads on his forehead. Maybe I’m already dead and haven’t noticed it. Perhaps I took too many aspirin with too much wine, but that can’t be. The foil is intact. He snatches the packet from my hand, and his brows knit together.
“What the fuck are these pills?” He shakes me, but I still can’t form any words. “Answer me, or I’ll force you to throw up! I am at the edge of my sanity here, and you are not helping.”
The force of his voice rattles through my body. Is he for real? I manage to find a few words. “It’s aspirin. I have a headache,” I lie. His chest deflates, and he shuts his eyes for a second.
“Stop it. It kills me how easily you can lie to me.”
He clasps my upper arms, and I tilt my head up.
“When did it become so effortless for you, baby, huh? What have I done?”
His voice falters, and his words take me back. My heart pounds in my chest, a wild animal cornered. I wonder what he’s talking about. He can’t know I’m lying now, can he? It’s aspirin. In normal cases, people take it for minor aches and not for preventing blood clots.
A sigh erupts from within him, and I shiver.
“You’re ill, Bria. I know you have a heart condition and the reason you’re taking aspirin right now is to prevent a heart attack and not a headache, so you can still live for . . . how long? A few months, maybe? Well, for the rest of the world, me, your family, and everyone else, you’ll be dead by tomorrow evening, right?”
My eyes pop up. He grits his teeth before continuing, “Feel free to contradict me or lie outright to my face since you have become a pro in the matter these last few years.”
He can’t know any of it, can he?
I mumble, “What? How? It’s impossible unless . . .” And then it dawns on me—the traitor. I’m not sure I will ever forgive him. “Alex.”
I untangle myself from his arms and scramble to my feet. I find the aspirin package lying on the floor and swallow one with some water. I stride to the window and close my eyes as I shif
t my weight from one leg to the other. What have I ever done to deserve to be punished like this, I keep asking myself? I just want a clean break from everything and everyone. Why am I in this position of being consumed whole because of how much I feel and am left with no control over the situation? My plan has a backup plan for every possible scenario except this one, not for Damien finding out everything I’ve tried so hard to protect him from and not for him being so close to me in this hotel room.
A simple hotel suite and everything I have worked for and dreamed of is being butchered once again. But this is not the right moment to accept defeat, not this time. Life has taught me well these last years. I’m not that naïve girl he left behind alone, confused, sobbing, and curled into a fetal position for God knows how long in another cold hotel room. Calmness descends on me as I formulate a new plan. He won’t be able to get through to me again, with or without my walls.
“What are you scheming?” I hear his hoarse voice behind me.
Using the most indifferent tone I have in me, I ask, “What exactly do you know? And why are you here? Can you leave, please? I’m tired and in no condition to go through another heart-wrenching session with you. One was one too much, don’t you think?”
He stands and claps as he strides toward me. I shudder when his breath caresses my ear. “I don’t even touch you, and you react. You didn’t stand a chance when you had your wall around you, but I assume from the state you’re in, that’s not the case any longer.”
When he brushes my arm with his finger, goose bumps break out on my skin. “I’ll take my chance with you. It’s the only way, and between us, I am a far dirtier player.” His unique, musky male smell surrounds me, and his breath and fingers on me play havoc with my head. He knows exactly what he does to me and is not even ashamed of it.
Shattered Love : A Billionaire Romance (Forever Us Book 1) Page 19
