by Shelly Ellis
“You’re going to fucking answer me,” he said, even as she continued to sob and babble incoherently. “And you’re going to look at me. If you’re going to stab me in the chest, at least have the fucking balls to look at me while you’re doing it! You hear me?”
He squeezed her chin and wrenched her head around so that she faced him, making her shout out in pain. “Look at me, Lee! You fuckin’ open your eyes and look at me!”
Ever so slowly, she did as he ordered. Her eyes were bright red and pooling with tears. Her mascara streamed down her cheeks and chin. Snot ran from her nose as she gulped for air.
“Why did you do it? Why did you do it, dammit? Just tell me! To get even with me? To hurt me?”
“No! No, I did it to help you!” she screamed up at him, choking on her own sobs, making Evan go still. “Just like she did . . . I did it to help you! He said that’s what I had to do to get you out . . . out of jail! I-I-I didn’t wanna do it, but I had no other choice!”
He loosened his grip around her arms and let go of her face.
“I didn’t wanna do it! I didn’t wanna do it!” she kept repeating while furiously shaking her head.
And just like that, the fury disappeared. The red veil of rage had been lifted, and he could see it all so clearly now.
She had morphed back into the Leila he knew—the Leila who had sacrificed for him, who would do almost anything to put a smile on his face. Except she wasn’t smiling now. She was sniveling and trembling with fear, and he had been the one who made her this way. He had done this to her. This time, she was looking at him as if she didn’t recognize him.
Oh, God, he thought as he sat back on his shins. Evan stared down at his wife, at the mother of his child, at the woman he loved more than anything. He had attacked her—something he would never have imagined himself doing in a million years.
All because of Dante.
He could practically hear that son of a bitch cackling in his head. Dante knew how to hit him where it hurt. He knew how to sully what was most sacred to Evan. He had tried to take away his freedom and livelihood—and failed. But now he had ruined the one thing that Evan had treasured the most: the bond he and Leila shared. Their relationship wouldn’t be the same after this; they could never go back again.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Evan whispered with a shaky breath and unshed tears in his eyes.
He climbed off of Leila, who was still hiccupping and crying. She turned to the side and buried her face in their duvet.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Evan said again as he strode across their bedroom, swung open the door, and slammed it closed behind him.
He strode down the corridor of the west wing and the staircase to the first floor, lost in a daze. He passed Diane and his housekeeper as he went. Both women shrank back from him like he was some monster stalking through the mansion hallways.
And he was a monster. He could feel it happening all along, during all these months, and now he had finally turned into his father: flying into a rage, yelling and abusing his wife. And Evan was about to do what his father had done: kill his brother. The Murdoch family legacy was coming full circle. History was about to repeat itself.
He threw open the French doors and jogged down the stone steps to the Lincoln Town Car where his driver, Bill, was waiting with a ready smile. He held open the door for Evan.
“Mrs. Murdoch is running a little late, I guess?” Bill asked. “Still beautifying?”
“She isn’t coming,” Evan answered succinctly before climbing inside the car.
Bill looked at him quizzically as he shut the door behind him but didn’t comment.
Evan sat in the backseat, his muscles rigid and his pulse racing. Perspiration was on his brow and pooling under his armpits. He was breathing like he had just finished a five-mile jog.
“Did you still want to head to the restaurant?” Bill asked, shifting the car into drive.
“No.” Evan slowly shook his head as the Town Car glided out of the mansion’s circular driveway. “I want to go to seven-oh-eight Mason Avenue in Reston.”
“That far? That’s quite a drive, sir!” Bill leaned over to stare at Evan in the rearview mirror. “What in the world is out there at this late hour?”
“The son of a bitch who I’m going to kill tonight.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“I’ve had enough of it, Bill,” Evan continued, feeling the words flood out of his mouth like a broken dam. “I’ve had enough of all his shit.”
He probably shouldn’t be confessing this to his driver, but he didn’t care. He would be arrested soon after he did what he had to do tonight anyway.
“He’s ruined my life. He ruined us. Lee will probably never forgive me for what I did tonight, and she has every right not to. But I’ll be damned if he gets away with this shit yet again! I didn’t try to kill him last time, but I will this time. That motherfucka’s nine lives are up.”
Bill squinted as he pulled onto a roadway. “You aren’t talking about that Turner fella, are you, sir? Your half brother?”
“Yes,” Evan answered, glaring out the passenger window.
“Well, now . . . I can’t let you do that, Mr. Murdoch.”
“If you won’t take me to his place, then take me back to the house. I’ll drive there my goddamn self.”
“No, sir,” Bill said, shaking his gray head as he turned the wheel onto another street. “I’ll keep driving until you really have a chance to think about this . . . to think about what you’re doin’. Your wife may be mad at you now but she depends on you. Those children depend on you. You can’t afford to go back to jail. You know that.”
Evan turned away from window and stared down at his lap.
“You’ve done right by me, Mr. Murdoch. You’ve done right by my wife and my kids. I’m able to pay for my oldest to go through college because of you. She’s studying to be a teacher. I’m grateful for what you’ve done, and I wouldn’t be showing how grateful I was if I just sat back and let you send yourself down the river again.” He paused. “I served time when I was a young man. You remember that, don’t you?”
Yes, he knew that Bill had been to prison. He had seen Bill’s prison record when he applied for the job as family driver several years ago. He had been shocked that the polite, gregarious older man had served more than a decade behind bars for robbery and theft. It had given Evan pause until he realized Bill had been charged when he was only nineteen years old. Though he’d worried he was making a huge mistake, Evan had decided to hire Bill anyway based on the man’s glowing recommendations. Now he was glad he had; Bill had been an exemplary driver who had served him well.
“I remember what it’s like in there. You and I both know, you don’t wanna go back, sir,” Bill insisted.
Evan closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. “I don’t . . . but at this point, they all may be better off without me.”
“Don’t say that,” Bill ordered with an icy firmness, surprising Evan with his tone. “Don’t you dare say that, because you know it isn’t true!” Bill braked at a light and gazed at Evan in his rearview mirror. “I spent seven years in prison. I missed birthdays, graduations . . . I even missed my grandmother’s funeral. I spent seven years feeling sorry for myself until I realized when I finally got out that my wife, my daughter—they had missed me, too. Can you believe it?”
Evan didn’t respond.
“Me—a man who had disappointed them and embarrassed them by getting locked up in the first place! I was a drunk. I was a junkie. I robbed houses and stole cars to pay for my habit—and they still missed me. They still wanted me back. After I realized that, I made it my mission to prove to them I was a man worth waiting seven years for.”
Evan pursed his lips. He finally unclenched his hands.
“So no, I’m not taking you to Reston tonight,” Bill said. “We’ll just keep driving around until we figure this out. We’ll drive until dawn if we have to. If you change your mind . . . good. I think you�
�re making the right decision. You’re doing right by yourself and your family. If you don’t change your mind and you decide you still want him dead, you’re a grown man. I won’t drive you there, but I know in the end I can’t stop you if you want to do it badly enough. I just want you to make sure this is really what you want. I want you to understand what’s really at stake. All right?”
Evan gradually nodded. “All right.”
Chapter 27
Leila
Leila awoke to the smell of baby powder and the soft drone of a humidifier. She opened her puffy eyes and squinted against the bright light streaming through the plantation blinds of a nearby window. She felt disoriented, wondering exactly how and why she was here. She slowly sat upright, stretched, and looked around her.
Now I remember, she thought with a shudder.
Leila had fallen asleep in the nursery, having fled here soon after Evan had left their bedroom last night. She hadn’t wanted to be in the bedroom when he returned—if he returned. He had stalked out of there, mumbling about killing someone. She didn’t know who. He’d looked unhinged—his face was a billboard of anger, utter humiliation, and pain. She didn’t know if Evan would ever come back. Either way, she didn’t want to be there if he did.
She’d crept down the hall to seek the comfort of her baby’s company and the quiet of this serene space. As she sat in the dark, replaying a mental video of what had happened that night on an endless loop, she’d started to cry all over again. She wept silently for who knows how long before finally tumbling into a restless sleep in the pink glider next to her daughter’s crib.
Leila now glanced to her side and saw that Angelica was still slumbering on her back. One little arm was up in a permanent wave, as if she were saying “Hello” to someone in her dreams. Her tiny lips were parted. She whizzed softly.
Leila eased to her feet, careful not to make so much noise that she’d wake Angelica. She leaned over the crib and gazed at her daughter.
Mommy messed up, honey, she thought forlornly. I messed up so bad!
That night with Dante in his hotel room hadn’t been done out of spite or revenge, despite Evan’s angry insistence. Leila had been willing to do almost anything to get Evan out of jail, including have sex with a man whom she utterly despised. But Charisse—Evan’s conniving ex-wife—had beaten her to the punch. She’d spread her legs for the likes of Dante and gotten Evan off the attempted murder charge, something Leila, regretfully, had been unable to do. Charisse’s devotion had earned Evan’s forgiveness and unwavering loyalty, despite what Charisse had done to both him and Leila in the past. Meanwhile, Leila’s devotion remained ignored.
She had wanted to hurt Evan like she’d been hurt when she found the text message from Charisse. She wanted to make him feel the same agony she’d felt for the past seven months, wondering what would happen to him and their family. The hateful words had leaped from her lips without a thought.
“I should’ve fucked him, too, when I had the chance! Stupid me . . . All I did was jerk him off!”
Even now, she cringed at the memory.
Leila wished she could take it all back: what she’d said to Evan and what had happened after it. But she couldn’t take it back; mistakes like that were irrevocable. Now her marriage and her life were in shambles.
She reluctantly turned away from the crib, tiptoed across the room, and opened the nursery’s door. She couldn’t hide in here forever. She had to face the reality of what she’d done.
Leila quietly stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her.
“Hey, you’re up early!” someone shouted, almost making her jump out of her skin.
She turned and found Michael striding toward her.
“Glad I caught you! Ida and I were just packing up the last of our stuff, and we were wondering if we could . . .” He paused when he drew closer. He narrowed his green eyes at her. “Damn! What the hell happened to you?”
“Nothing,” she answered quickly, pushing back her tangled, matted hair. “N-nothing happened.”
He was still looking her up and down. She knew she probably looked horrible. She was still wearing her dress from last night, though it was now wrinkled and soiled with her sweat and tears. She hadn’t seen herself, but she was certain her lipstick was smeared and she had a bad case of raccoon eyes.
Still, she felt no need to explain her appearance—especially to the likes of Michael. It was her business.
“Doesn’t look like nothing.” He slowly shook his head. “You look like you just stumbled out of an earthquake,” he said.
Leila didn’t answer him but instead shoved past him and headed back down the hall to her bedroom.
“Being the replacement wife of a rich guy isn’t all you thought it would be,” he called after her, making her come to a stop and whip around to face him. “Are you starting to wonder now if you should’ve taken me up on my offer?”
“You mean your bullshit offer of friendship?”
“It wasn’t bullshit, Leila. I don’t offer friendship to just anybody. I’m very particular about who I let into my inner circle. You should be flattered.”
“Well, I’m not. And no, I don’t regret rejecting you! Even if my marriage was on its last leg, which it isn’t,” she hastily added, “I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life and never have sex again than be ‘friends’ with you.”
He shrugged as she turned to head back down the hall. “Your loss.”
“Go back to trolling the nursing homes for your hookups, asshole,” she said, making him laugh.
She then heard him open the door leading to Ida’s bedroom. “I’m back, baby!” he called out to Aunt Ida. “I couldn’t find the thing you wanted, but I’ll try again later,” he said before shutting the door behind him.
* * *
Leila peeked into her bedroom door a minute later to find their bedroom empty and in the same chaotic state she had left it the night before. She quickly redid the bedsheets and removed the pillows from the floor. She returned her shawl to the closet and took off her torn and shredded dress before tossing it into the wastebasket. She then entered the shower and washed the sweat and tears of last night off her skin.
When she returned to her bedroom twenty minutes later, she felt clean, though not renewed. She glanced at the clock on her dresser table. It was after eight a.m. and Evan still had not returned. She dressed, careful this time to wear an outfit that covered her bruises, and went back to Isabel’s bedroom to wake her up, then the nursery to wake up Angelica. For the rest of the morning, even as she spooned oatmeal into Angelica’s mouth and admonished Isabel to clean up her room, she kept an eye out for Evan. She was nervous at the prospect of another volatile or even strained encounter with her husband, but eager to get it over with.
Couples fight, she told herself. Couples sometimes even say and do awful things to each other that they are ashamed about later, but it doesn’t mean we can’t make this better.
She could humble herself, and so could Evan. They could even go to counseling if need be! She loved him enough to be willing to try to make it work.
But she didn’t run into Evan that morning or that afternoon. She checked his study and didn’t find him there. She checked the Olympic-size pool in the east wing where he sometimes swam when he was under stress, but he wasn’t there, either. She even checked the guesthouse, but Evan was nowhere to be found. She tried calling him, but he didn’t answer. She hung up before the phone line went to voice mail.
By dinnertime, Evan still wasn’t back at the mansion. She was really starting to worry.
“He’s probably just at the office,” her mother said in between bites of shrimp and couscous. “You know how he is.”
“I called the office, Mama,” Leila said tightly as she wiped the puréed carrots from Angelica’s chubby chin. “He didn’t answer.”
Her mother shrugged and ate another spoonful.
She knew Leila was worried about Evan, but she didn’t know why. She had
n’t told Diane about what had happened last night—and she didn’t plan to tell her, either.
“He’s probably just up to his eyeballs in work, honey. I wouldn’t worry so much.” She glanced at Leila’s sweater. “You’re probably so anxious because you’re hot! Don’t you know it’s ninety degrees outside? Just looking at you is making me sweat!”
Leila didn’t reply, only adjusted her sweater on her shoulders. She wouldn’t take it off. It was the only thing she could find in her summer wardrobe that covered her bruises.
By the time she had kissed Isabel good night and put Angelica to bed, she was sure her newly minted marriage was over. Maybe Evan had gone to Charisse’s condo. Maybe he had sought the comfort of his ex-wife now that his new marriage had turned into such a catastrophe.
No, she told herself, Evan wouldn’t do that.
But a lot had happened lately that she’d never expected. She couldn’t say anything for sure anymore.
Leila walked into her bedroom, feeling miserable and at a loss for what to do next. She raised her head as she shut the door behind her and began to remove her sweater. She halted mid-motion.
“Ev!” she shouted in surprise.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his head bowed and his hands linked in front of him, as if he had been patiently waiting there for her this whole time. When he heard her voice, he looked up. She rushed across the bedroom toward him.
“Where have you been, baby?” she cried. Her yearning for him was quickly replaced with relief. “I haven’t seen you all day! I was so worried about you!”
She fell to her knees in front of him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. The anxiety of the day and anguish of yesterday finally overwhelmed her and she started to weep.
He didn’t respond at first to her tears or her touch. Gradually, Evan turned to her and wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry on his shoulder. “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay,” he whispered against her ear.
