DECEIT (B723)

by Hazel Grace

  I don’t remember that either, but I’m glad my half-unconscious self is still competent in making somewhat good decisions.

  “I need to die.”

  “The fuck? What are you talking about? Emmy, stop—“

  “Alexander, he can’t find out I’m still alive. Call Lucien.”

  “Ems, what happened?” The babies begin to kick more furiously now, and my anxiety begins to surface.

  If I lose them because of Alexander, I’ll never forgive myself. I don’t know if I can handle the loss of the two little things inside me because I put them in danger.

  I should’ve never of tried to replace one problem with another. Every bit of discomfort I feel right now, I deserve.

  But not my kids.

  “No time,” I stress, shaking my head. “I need Alexander to think I’m dead. Everyone has to know.”

  “Okay, fine. You’re not making any sense, but—“

  “Will you stay with me?” If I thought Mills’s face was terrified before, this one takes the cake. “Can you just wait for me then? Don’t call—“

  “I’ll stick around.” He nods like a bobblehead, working himself up into being in an operating room and watching the birth of two kids. “I got this.”

  “Don’t faint.” A razor-sharp burn hits my right side, and I flinch, which makes everything worse. I gasp from it and clutch my best friend’s hand tighter. “Mills…”

  “I’ll grab the doctor.” He leaves me for a moment, and I feel the loss of him immediately, even if he’s only yards away.

  If one of my squishes doesn’t make it out alive, I will have Alexander’s head on a fucking pike for killing my world.

  Atlas and Alaric Rhodes were delivered by emergency c-section within an hour of being driven to the hospital. With the babies being born preterm, they were immediately taken to the NICU.

  Meanwhile, I had passed out and was put under for surgery.

  They had to repair some tissue and muscle damage along with internal bleeding, Alexander just knicked one of my kidneys.

  Mills grabbed my phone on the way out of him, taking me to the hospital. It’s been blowing up from my, now, ex-boyfriend who has probably discovered that I’m gone off the living room floor.

  He just made himself my next assignment.

  One that I will handle on my own without the help of B723 because Alexander isn’t some popstar with groupies and drugs that I could poison him with.

  He’s powerful with money and connections. Apparently, a brother can that swing some favors for him, depending on how shady he is.

  I have yet to hold my babies or even see them. Being preterm, Atlas has jaundice and low blood sugar. Her name came to me immediately when I was given forms to name the twins. I needed a road map back to where I feel safe, loved again, and home to where it felt normal.

  Alaric is obvious but only to me and B723.

  It’s Bishop’s middle name.

  I needed my baby boy to be strong and stubborn because he had the short end of the stick. He lacks what is called surfactant, which is a substance that allows the lungs to expand. The doctors are hopeful for both of my squishies. I just can’t fail them again.

  “No. No, Emmy Lou Rhodes, you have lost your goddamn mind. There is no fucking way I’m pulling off this suicide mission.”

  My best friend is having an absolute fit at the end of my hospital bed as he paces back and forth like a lion waiting for someone to drop the raw meat in his cage.

  He runs a hand down the five ‘o clock shadow on his face and growls in frustration at my proposal that I’ve just reiterated to him again.

  “I’ll make you the godfather of both of them just please—“ Mills suddenly stops and whirls on me.

  His expression is so beyond pissed and rattled that I genuinely feel sorry for putting him through this.

  For asking him to do this.

  “You’re trying to make me their fucking dad, Ems. Do you know how that’s gonna look?!”

  “Um…” I raise my brows innocently, hoping it gains me a brownie point in him leaning towards agreeing. “Yeah…it’s gonna look like we had an affair.”

  Mills glares at me. His eyes sending nothing but disgust, fury, and possible regret of answering the phone to save me.

  Shit, I’d feel the same way.

  Kyson would’ve been my next go-to, but I honestly don’t think he’d ever agree to fathering my children when Bishop would slit his throat the first time he saw him. Mills will have Marty as backup and Kyson as a buffer. Bishop won’t be able to touch him.

  Plus, this won’t last long.

  However, I need Mills to take one for the team so that when I get to the second part of my plan, I have no idea what that’s going to be yet—Alexander will have no rights to my kids.

  Now, this is no easy feat. I have to forge DNA results that Alexander will more than likely want done when he finds out what I’ve done.

  Or didn’t do since I’m going to be pronounced as “dead” by the end of the day.

  Lucien is already performing the first round of tests, and I’m dying inside from anticipation on who the baby daddy is like a fucking Jerry Springer show.

  “They’ll kill me.” Mills points behind him at the wall. “Marty, Kyson, Bishop, they’ll stomp me to death.”

  “Not with leaving my babies parentless they won’t.”

  “Parentless? Why would they be—“ The look on my face must explain some of it because his stormy blues widen, and he compels himself away from me. “Oh, no. No, no. You weren’t right in the head then. That’s just—no. Whatever you’re thinking about doing, hell fucking—“

  “Alexander was here earlier,” I report against his admonished stare. “He’s been blowing my Instagram up since I left the house. Each message is more endangering and threatening than the last. His first trip to find me was in Bridgeport because I have my phone pinging off that satellite. I wanted to see how many connections he has in locating us.” I meet Mills’s eyes straight on. “He has them. And if he’s dealing with Chung-Ho, he’s got people in dark places too.”

  “Chung-Ho Gwan?” Mills frowns. “The dude from Korea, how?”

  “His brother is a congressman, apparently. I just found that out.” And I could kick myself in the ass for not doing a full background check on my piece of shit ex-boyfriend.

  “Emmy.” Mills strides towards me and grabs both my hands. “Come home. We’ll protect you and—“

  “No. Ledger already got up our asses about the shit we’ve pulled with Marty and then Bishop. You know what they’ll do. It’ll be a fucking disaster.”

  “Bullshit,” he snaps. “He tried to kill you. And we know how to do things low-key.” I perk a knowing brow. “We do and can.”

  “I don’t know what Alexander has or what he can do. He has investigators, I learned that. I’m sure he has muscle, he mentioned his family is always being threatened. He’s a CEO of a large stock company. He shows up every day for work. He will be missed if this isn’t done right.”

  “Then we’ll do it right.”

  I slowly shake my head. “This needs to be done by one person. And that individual is me.”

  “Okay, so you wanna do it yourself, fine, but—“

  “Can you honestly tell me that the boys won’t lose their shit? The only reason you haven’t is because you’re here with me.”

  “I am losing my shit.” He gestures up and down his body. “Do you see me freaking out right now?”

  “Mills, Kyson will snipe any asshole that walks out of Alexander’s work that’s wearing a suit just to make sure he doesn’t let the right man go free. Marty is a psycho. Bishop…you can’t tell him anything.”

  “Emmy, I—“

  “I would never ask you to do this for me if I didn’t need it. I know it’ll put you through so much bullshit with the guys, but I trust no one else with my babies. Mills, they are my entire world. I can’t let Alexander chase us around forever.”

  Mills dips hi
s head then sits in the chair along my bed. This burden and responsibility is the biggest thing I could ever ask him to do.

  As powerful and stealthy as we are, Alexander is too important. We can’t go guns blazing or drop him in the nearest river. We can’t bury him in an unmarked grave because dozens of squads of cops will create search parties.

  I don’t know how I’m going to do this.

  I just know I need to do it alone and without B723 getting involved or hurt.

  “I can’t…Emmy.” I can hear his voice crack through his chest as his fingers reach for my hand. “I can’t raise kids. Especially yours, I mean, I’ll fuck it up. I’ll—“

  “Be amazing,” I insert, compelling myself to sound calm and competent in him because this has to work. “You’re kind-hearted and you’ll make sure they’re loved until I can come back and claim them.”

  “Come back?” He pulls from me, eyes searching my face for answers. “Where are you going?”

  I bite down on my lower lip. I’ve asked way too much of him already, but I’m not done. Not by a long shot.

  “I’m going to need you for something else too.”

  He immediately frowns when the door to my hospital room opens, putting me on edge before I see that it’s Lucien with a clipboard and his white doctor’s coat. His eyes find mine, and he’s pissed.

  He’s upset because he knows the plan.

  And that he’s not the only one I’m letting walk into this deceived bullshit I’m trying to pull off.

  Mills and Lucien lock eyes, and something passes between them because the room is deathly silent and eerie.

  “She told you, eh?”

  My best friend stares at him. “She was getting to it, but I know that I don’t wanna be privy to the bullshit that’s going to spew out of her damn mouth now.”

  “She wants to fake her own damn death,” Lucien mocks. “And she needs me to warrant it.”

  Mills’s expression turns lethal, and I recoil back against the softness of my pillow. “You are out of your fucking mind.” He slices his eyes to Lucien. “You didn’t agree to this, did you?”

  Lucien comes to my side and unwraps his stethoscope from his neck. “Unfortunately, I did. She left me no other choice.”

  “What did you do?” I don’t even get a chance to open my mouth before Lucien answers for me.

  “Your associate said to me that if I didn’t come to make sure things were administered correctly that she’d pay someone else to do it.”

  Mills tugs at his black tee. “Do what exactly?”

  “Give her the antidote to bring her back to life if she has to kill herself.” My best friend gapes at me like I’ve grown a second head.

  I’ve done a lot of planning within my short time here. Some ideas are a little more deranged and fucked up than others.

  I keep Mills’s gaze and ask him the most important thing I need to know. “Are you in or not?”

  I need to up my workout regimen because Scarlett’s cooking and the amount of food she makes have my muscles turning a little mushy. Hardy has been bitching low-key about gaining ten pounds, even though I don’t see it, and our sister is loving the fact that she can help and takes pride in making dinner for the family.

  Tonight is homemade pizza night, and if you would’ve asked me over ten months ago if I’d have a tiny five-year-old in my lap sprinkling mozzarella cheese on our pizza that she’s insisting we share, I would’ve told you to smoke another one.

  She is meticulously making sure that no sauce is showing on our pie and pulling out small grabs of cheese with her tiny hands, which is making it take five times longer.

  Not that I really give a shit.

  Maddy and I have formed a relationship that she won’t let me but accept because she is my mini-me, and she’s quiet when I need her to be. Like she understands when I need her to be. A little mini-me of some sorts but she reminds me of Scarlett when we were kids and I can’t help but enjoy her company.

  “Do you just want to taste cheese, Maddy,” Hardy teases. “Or are you going to throw three pounds of mozzarella on it?”

  She ignores him, so focused on her creative pizza art that I answer for her. “Mind your own business, Dad, this is our project.”

  Even though I haven’t done anything but be her stool.

  “And ours is the best!” she exclaims excitedly, throwing her little hands in the air and creating confetti cheese to fly everywhere.

  “I don’t know if I’d call that pizza art but—“

  “Listen, old man,” I interject. “We’re gonna kick you out of the kitchen if you don’t stop hating on our shi—stuff.” I jiggle my leg to gain my niece’s attention. “Isn’t that right, Mads?”

  “Stop it, daddy,” she scolds, not bothering to lift her head to acknowledge him.

  I give him a winning grin and he returns it with a perked brow.

  “Alright—“ He swipes up his Bud Light. “—I’ll just invite Lucy over for your Uncle Kace.”

  My eyes narrow because the shit isn’t funny.

  When Lucy walked into my house after sucking my dick only an hour before, I had to come clean to Hardy.

  Talk about the most uncomfortable situation when you’re not that close to a sibling than telling them that their girl has had their lips wrapped around your cock too.

  Hardy—thank fuck—thought it was funny. I guess they had just started casually dating, and she’s become a joke ever since.

  I’ve been at the butt of it; it’s been great.

  My phone goes off, and I mindlessly grab it from the table to answer it. “Yeah.”

  “Bish.” Kyson’s voice is strained, setting my body rigid and on guard immediately. “Where are you?”

  My brows furrow at Kyson’s question. “Home.”

  “You need to leave and come up to Marty’s place.”

  My heart halts mid-beat, and Maddy’s weight in my lap is making me feel contained and anxious since she's on top of me.

  Sliding my chair back, I place my phone down and lift her into my seat, telling her to save it for me. I feel Hardy’s heavy focus on me but I don’t spend the time to explain, I just move outside.

  “Explain,” I leer through the phone. “What happened?”

  “Dude, I…I don’t know how…” My heart begins to increase its beats, alluding that something is off.

  Something is wrong.

  When Kyson is the Yin to my Yang, he rarely loses his entire cool. And right now, I can hear every crack of his voice.

  “She’s gone.”

  “Gone?” My tone is almost inaudible, and I know who he’s speaking of, but I don’t want that word and her in the same sentence.

  Did she fucking run off and marry that stupid motherfucking Alexander?

  I realize it would eventually happen, but I thought she’d at least invite B723, and I’d have to debate with myself on actually going to torture myself and watch it.

  “Emmy…Bish…she’s dead.”

  You’re only supposed to die once, that’s how God intended it to be. And for the grief and pain that I put B723 through, I’m not relying on any of them forgiving me after this.

  The deal was that Lucien was going to tell Alexander that I suffered and died from intense bleeding. Mills identified my body, and I passed away from a car accident, having to have an emergency birth to my twins to save their lives.

  I could only touch my son and daughter through clear plastic once before I had to go.

  I barely saw them through all the tears that flooded my eyes. My words definitely weren’t English as I promised I’d be back soon, and they’d be protected.

  After my surgery, I spent less than twenty-four hours in the hospital before Lucien and Mills transported me out dressed with a hoodie over my head by ambulance. Then Mills was taking me to the safe house that I rented.

  When I believed that saying goodbye to B723 would’ve been the most challenging thing imaginable, leaving behind Atlas and Alaric is worse.

/>   They’re mine, and I can’t have them.

  They’d be pawns for Alexander, and he would fight Mills tooth and nail to have them back.

  Because unfortunately, I received more bad news.

  A piece that made my skin crawl and my wanting to go back in time and change every poor decision regarding Alexander that I’ve made.

  Alaric and Atlas are his children.

  I practically fell from my hospital bed in despair when Lucien came to me with the results. This couldn’t get any worse. I’m already failing as a mother, to my friends.

  I have to kill my children’s father—period.

  Putting him in jail is too risky because he could also get a plea deal, get off early on good behavior and come back for revenge.

  Return back for the kids.

  I can’t do that.

  I’m not going to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life and become a helicopter mom, strangling my kids with my worry because Alexander is still breathing.

  I’m leaving nothing to chance and losing everything in return.

  For my funeral, it’ll be a closed casket due to my mangled body, as Lucien so kindly suggested. Mills promised me pink flowers, but I wish for a miracle where I could go back nine months and do this differently.

  I don’t regret my children.

  I just hate that I let him in.

  Now in the car with my best friend, he hasn’t spoken to me since we left the hospital. But he’s been there, just silently, every step of the way, and I haven’t pressed to have him entertain me nor pretend like this is okay.

  This is so beyond jacked up as you can get.

  The biggest deceit.

  But it comes with the peace of knowing that no one from B723 will suffer any consequences for the bad choices I’ve made. Without them comes the solace of not having to worry about them so I can do this job and get it over with.

  On our way to my new temporary place of residence, I had to listen to every single one of Mills’ phone calls—to Marty, Kyson, Blue, and Ledger—about plans and arrangements for my last hoorah.

  It was cryptic and awful. I’ve double-guessed my decision every time Mills repeated the words but reminded myself of why I’m doing this in the first place.