Heartless Bastard (Rich Ruthless Bastards, #1)

by Brooks , Tonya

  "No doubt."

  "If I hadn't been having an emotional and physical breakdown he would have," she imparted. Even after all these years, Bastion had never stopped trying to find the hospital and doctor involved. Now that he knew who they were, their fate was sealed.

  "How on earth did you survive all of that?" Soraya asked. "It was enough to break you."

  "It did, but Bastion wouldn't let me give up. He forced me to eat, sleep, and talk about it," she confessed. "There were days when I hated him for it, but he got me through it, and I was finally able to put it all behind me and get on with my life."

  "Until Ford made a reappearance," Soraya pointed out.

  "And then I made the same stupid mistakes all over again," she confirmed.

  "So how did you find out about Scott?"

  "Ford's mother told me."

  "His mother! I thought you said she was the one behind the whole baby-snatching plan."

  "She was. At first, she claimed I was in breach of the NDA and threatened to sue, but I called her bluff," she explained. "Once she realized I hadn't told Ford that we'd been married, she threatened to tell him that Scott was my son. I thought she was lying until she mentioned the scar on my abdomen and I realized she was telling the truth."

  "What did she hope to gain by admitting what she'd done?" The other woman asked in confusion.

  "Getting rid of me was always the goal," she clarified. "If she told Ford then he would ask me about it and under the terms of the NDA, I wouldn't be able to answer his questions. If I did, I'd be in breach, and then she could sue me. She told me to walk away and it would be like none of this had ever happened. Just like the last time."

  "The heartless bitch!" Soraya exclaimed. "How the hell did she think you could just walk away from your son?"

  "If you met her, you'd understand. Madeline Hammersmith is evil to the core," she said in disgust.

  "She'd have to be to steal a baby from his mother," her best friend agreed. "So, what are you going to do? Can you do anything without being in breach? Wait. You told me. Did you just break the contract?"

  "Malachi said after what she did to me that the NDA would never hold up in court," she replied. "She could end up in jail for the rest of her miserable life if I decide to press charges."

  "If? You mean you haven't already?"

  "Bastion and Malachi asked me to let them handle it. They've gone to New York to confront Ford, so I'm waiting to find out what happens."

  "Do you think he knew?"

  "No, I'm certain that he didn't," she denied.

  "So, what does this mean for your relationship? Do you think the two of you can work it out after all of this?" She queried.

  "I'm not even thinking that far ahead," Callie admitted. "The only thing I want is for my son to know the truth. I just hope he doesn't hate me."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ford

  Ford had circled the coffee table countless times, staring at the briefcase as if it were Pandora's Box and opening it would destroy him and life as he knew it. When he couldn't take another minute of not knowing, he sat down on the couch, wiped his sweaty palms on his pants legs, and lifted the lid.

  The tiny hope he'd held that Baines had been fucking with him died a quick death. Lifting a file folder from the stack, he flipped it open and saw a Nevada marriage license for himself and Callisto Rose Hayes dated April 3rd. The day the accident had occurred. The date that Callie had admitted was the last time that she had seen him.

  Their wedding day.

  Fuck.

  He scrubbed both hands down his face and slid the license aside to see a California birth certificate underneath it. There in black and white was the damming evidence of the ultimate duplicity. Callisto Rose Hayes and Rutherford Prescott Hammersmith II were the legal parents of Rutherford Prescott Hammersmith III.

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  This was a nightmare. Finding out that Callie was the mother of his son should have been a cause for celebration, but not like this. This was a living hell that had effectively destroyed any hope they had of a future together. There was no coming back from this. The betrayal went too deep and she'd never forgive him.

  Shoving the certificate aside, he found the annulment, custody, and non-disclosure agreements beneath it. He read them and saw that all of the documents bore Callie's signature while Caruthers had wielded his power of attorney to sign for Ford. Documents that he never would have signed himself if he'd been awake and cognizant.

  Ford ran his fingertip over a blotch partially obscuring her signature and knew it was stained by a tear that she had shed while signing. He closed his eyes in anguish. It gutted him to imagine how badly she must have been hurting. To wake after nearly a year and be told by a stranger that the man she had given her heart to wanted an annulment.

  It was no wonder that she'd hated him.

  Ford hated himself.

  He shouldn't have trusted anything his mother and her lapdog had told him. He should have gone to Nevada and found out what happened for himself. Admittedly his mental state had been a serious impediment at the time, but the majority of the problem stemmed from the belief that he had killed a woman while driving under the influence.

  His mother had allowed him to believe an unforgivable lie that resulted in mental distress so severe that he had suffered night terrors for years. The fear of not knowing what had happened coupled with the guilt for taking an innocent life had been so debilitating that he hadn't been able to drive or even ride in a car for months.

  But even the damage that lie had caused to his soul hadn't been as devastating as knowing the full extent of what Callie had needlessly suffered because of his mother's depraved indifference. What she was still suffering now that the painful truth had finally been revealed by Madeline's malicious taunts. The thought sickened him as he reached for the next file in the stack.

  Callie's medical file read like a horror story.

  Other than minor contusions and abrasions, she had been impaled by a metal shard resulting in a jagged four-inch laceration just above her pelvic area that required surgery. As per hospital protocol, a pregnancy test had been administered, and the result was positive with an estimated conception date of four weeks.

  According to the emergency room report, she had been cogent enough to ask about Ford's condition upon arrival. After being apprised of his prognosis she had suffered a severe anxiety attack and was sedated. The attending physician had made a notation that the family had her transferred to a private hospital against medical advice before the surgery could be performed.

  As far as he could tell, Callie had remained sedated for the duration.

  The private hospital's forms had her listed as Subject A as if she were some kind of fucking lab rat instead of a human being. She was hooked up to an IV and feeding tube to keep her alive and received minimal physical therapy to prevent complete muscle atrophy. Other than her vital signs, the focus was on the growth of the fetus known as Subject B.

  His stomach flipped at the thought of Callie being treated like a baby breeder in a bad sci-fi movie and he barely made it to the bathroom before puking his guts out. Ford cleaned himself up and sat back down to finish reading the file. Though it was pure hell to do so, he deserved to suffer for the misery that she had unknowingly been forced to endure.

  The bulk of the file contained weekly sonograms and measurements of the baby right up until the doctor determined that he was ready to be delivered. Callie was prepped for surgery and the abdominal scar from the accident had been reopened to use for the cesarean delivery. The bastards had even found a way to hide that.

  Afterward, she had remained sedated until the surgical scar had healed and the family agreed to have her discharged. And that was it. She had served her purpose in providing an heir, so she became as disposable as an empty bottle. He bent double with dry heaves but there was nothing left to expel.

  Nothing but sorrow and grief.

  The last entry was an observ
ation from the attending physician. When Callie had been awakened, she was calm yet confused as the doctor explained her prolonged recovery. She kept asking about her husband's condition and when her questions went unanswered, she became hysterical and began screaming his name.

  She was sedated and discharged immediately.

  The rest of the file contained information about Scott until he was released into the care of a private nurse. Ford wondered if it was the same nurse that had taken care of his son after he'd returned home. If she'd been complicit or even known about the duplicitous scheme that had been perpetrated on the child's mother.

  The next folder contained his medical records, and that appeared to be the only thing they had not lied to him about. The extent of his head injury had been so severe that he had been airlifted to a private hospital where a specialist had him put into a medically induced coma until the cerebral edema had subsided. Afterward, his condition had not been life-threatening and the doctors had been unable to determine why he wouldn't wake up.

  Toward the end of the file was a notation from the attending physician that he had awakened angry and combative when Subject A had begun screaming his name. Ford read it three times to make sure that he hadn't misread it, because... Jesus fucking Christ. He had awakened from a coma when he heard Callie screaming his name.

  Without a doubt, he knew that was the reason. The connection that he and Callie shared was so deep and profound that he believed with all of his heart that she was the other half of his soul. Whether he had been consciously or unconsciously aware of who she was, when Callie called for him, he woke.

  That shit was so deep that he couldn't wait to yank his shrink's chain with it at their next session. Going back to the note, it explained that Ford had been lightly sedated to prevent him from injuring himself. When he woke on his own again a few hours later, he had no memory of the accident or the weeks preceding it.

  Or the woman he loved.

  Completely disgusted, he tossed that file aside and grabbed the last one. It contained the accident report as well as a CD with footage of the scene from the state trooper's body camera. It took him a few minutes and a couple of shots of whiskey to work up the nerve to insert the disc into his laptop and hit Play.

  He had known the imagery would be painful to see, he just hadn't realized how brutal it would be. The trooper had been the first one at the scene and his bodycam showed a vehicle with the front end obliterated, pieces of debris littering the road in every direction. A quick check of the car revealed that it was empty.

  According to the report, the driver of the other car had entered the interstate via the off-ramp and drove straight into oncoming traffic. Witness statements said that Ford had braked and swerved toward the shoulder to avoid the collision. The other car had impacted head-on with the front bumper on the driver's side, causing his vehicle to roll.

  The drunk driver had not been wearing a seat belt and had been ejected through the windshield. The crumpled body lying face down on the pavement attested to the fact that she had not survived the crash. The trooper had knelt next to her, presumably to check for a pulse before he rose and hurried down the embankment.

  The vehicle that Ford had been driving was upside down in the ditch with a tire still spinning. The front end was completely demolished and he couldn't even tell what kind of car it had been. The officer knelt beside the wreckage to look in the passenger window and Ford gasped in sheer horror at the sight before him.

  Callie was unconscious and hanging upside down, suspended by the seatbelt holding her in place. A chunk of metal protruded from her abdomen with blood running down onto her face and dripping from her short black hair. It was beyond horrific and he had to pause the video to regain control of his emotions.

  When he restarted it, the trooper checked her pulse and quickly moved around to the other side of the car. It was almost surreal, as he stared at himself in the same position as Callie, blood coating his face and hair from a gash at his temple. Without conscious thought, his hand lifted to touch the scar at his hairline.

  The trooper touched his neck searching for a pulse and his eyes flew open, wild and unfocused. Ford watched as his lips moved but the sound was faint and scratchy so he turned up the volume. "Callisto."

  A man's voice sounded loudly through the speaker in a crisp, clipped tone and he deduced it was the trooper speaking. "This one is awake, the other one is unconscious, and the woman is dead."

  "Noooo!" The blood-curdling cry sent a chill down his spine because it had come from his younger self. He saw his head swing toward the passenger side, heard the inhuman screams as he saw Callie. He watched helplessly as his hands clawed at the restraints holding him in place until the buckle released and he fell headfirst onto the roof of the car.

  The trooper and an EMT were reaching inside the window, trying to hold him back, their voices telling him to calm down and be still to no avail. He managed to twist his body and lift his head level with hers. One trembling hand wiped the blood from her face as his own tears streaked the blood covering his.

  "Callisto, don't leave me. Please don't leave me. I love you, baby. Love you so fucking much," the garbled words were barely audible as he pressed his forehead against hers.

  "Sir, you have to stop moving," another voice commanded before the officer moved aside and allowed a second EMT to take his place. The two men grabbed his legs and pulled him out of the vehicle as he kicked and cursed them. The officer helped them get him onto a gurney and into restraints while he pleaded with them to let him go to Callisto.

  Another set of EMT's had managed to free Callie and place her onto a gurney from the opposite side. A strong gust of wind lifted the sheet covering her and draped it across her head. They carried her past Ford with her face covered and he fought the restraints like a wild animal, screaming in gut-wrenching anguish, "Let me die! I can't live without her. Fucking let me die!"

  The video played to the end, but he didn't see the rest of it. Ford sat there with his face in his hands and cried like a baby, the sound of his screams echoing in his head. He had regained consciousness long enough to draw the wrong conclusions, and then he had wanted to die with her. Now he knew why he couldn't remember.

  And why he wouldn't wake up.

  Wilkes had explained years before that traumatic amnesia could have been caused by the severe head trauma, or if he had been cognizant during the accident, that the mental trauma of taking a life could have been more than he could endure so his brain had simply erased the memory as a means of protecting himself.

  The same theory would apply if he had believed that the woman he loved had died.

  He couldn't help wondering if the outcome would have been different if he had known that she was alive. If he had woke from the coma with his memory intact, he would have found a way to get her back. If he hadn't stayed comatose, they would have been together all this time as a family. If his fucking mother hadn't meddled in his life and kept them apart.

  So many ifs could have happened, yet none of them did.

  After all this time, he finally knew the truth, yet wished he didn't.

  Determined to see it through, Ford scrubbed the tears from his face, lifted a pharmacy film processing envelope, and removed the contents. The pictures and negatives were from the roll of film Callie said he'd had processed. Every one of them was a duplicate of the set he'd given her. Including the flamingo costume. He replaced the photos and laid the envelope aside.

  A plain white envelope was next and he opened it to find a delicate gold chain with a charm attached. The charm was the same symbol tattooed onto his chest. Callisto. He knew this had to be the necklace that Callie's mother had given her. The one she never took off. His fucking mother had stolen that from her as well.

  Ford's hands were actually shaking when he lifted the ring box and flipped the lid open. The sight of matching wedding bands and an engagement ring nearly choked him. The gold and diamonds that should have shown brightly were dull from
a decade spent locked away in Caruthers safe.

  He lifted the engagement ring from its velvet nest and admired the intense deep purple diamond. He didn't know how he knew what it was, but he did. Perhaps he had researched them to find one that matched her eyes, or maybe the jeweler had told him, but somehow the knowledge had remained in his subconscious.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  He snapped the box shut and laid it aside before grabbing the briefcase and going into his darkroom. Just as Callie had claimed, there were dozens of rolls of unprocessed film stacked neatly across the bottom. It could take days to get it all developed and considering they were a decade old, he hoped they were still viable.

  Processing the film had been a true test of endurance for Ford. Thanks to his habit of writing the date on the canisters, he'd been able to keep them in order of sequence. Before his eyes, the missing eight weeks of his life had come alive in vivid color. How he wished he had the memories to go with them.

  The images told their own story and supported everything that Callie had shared with him. The places they had visited, the sights they had seen, and the things they had done. Her smiling face appeared in almost every photo as did the love shining brightly in her amethyst eyes. There was nothing he wouldn't do to have her look at him like that again.

  His favorite pictures were also the most painful ones. Like the one where he had proposed. She'd been standing in front of a sign with the words Marry Me Callisto behind her in bright neon. The look on her face had been priceless when she turned to find him on bended knee, the engagement ring in his hand.

  Then there were their wedding photos. Those were the hardest. They looked so young and happy. Madly in love and excited about starting a new life together. Callie had been radiant in a sexy as fuck white dress that had to be one of her designs. The same dress that had been soaked in her blood just a few hours later.