After he signs it, I snatch them up and walk over to where the judge is dining. “Sorry to bother you, Judge, but if you could just sign this and make sure it gets filed that would be great.”
Judge Wynnwood frowns at me like I have all the nerve in the world. “Why should I stop dinner and help you?”
I tilt my head over the mayor. “You’re helping him. If I don’t get this done now, life gets difficult for them.”
He tilts his bald head back and studies me. “Is that a threat?”
I simply shake my head. “You gentlemen have a hard time distinguishing the difference between a threat, a promise, and a fact. What I’m telling you is a fact and a promise.”
He looks at the Mayor, and he nods his head. I pass him the pen. “All three copies, please.”
“Why three copies?”
“In case this one magically disappears which it won’t, right, Judge? Thank you in advance for the expedited filing. I look forward to getting the decree soon.”
I give him a brilliant smile and return to the Chesterfields with my other two copies in tow. Beau nailed his assessment. The wealthy hate being embarrassed in their own environment, they’ll do everything to avoid it.
“Thank you all for your cooperation. I look forward to getting my two million soon. Please do not try to renege on our deal. I’ll leave you all alone, and you will leave me alone. Do not try to make me disappear. I have three people—and before you ask, no, my parents are not included in that number—who will check on me periodically. If they cannot contact me, see me on the news, or hear about me dying suspiciously, they will go straight to the press with every piece of information I have. Trust me, I have a lot—pictures, texts, audio files, and so on. Do not have your family’s name smeared on the national news. Do not mess with anyone I care about either. I just want to live in peace. Do you all understand?”
Wes’ parents nod tightly, and Wes glares at me. “Keep your son away from me. Let him torture someone else.”
“You’re as big a liar as you are barren,” Wes growls.
My blood pressure spikes and his mom's eyes are full of judgment.
“Is that the lie he told you two?”
“Shut up and leave,” he tells me.
I frown at Wes. “No, you shouldn’t have brought it up.” I turn my attention to his parents. “I’m more than capable of getting pregnant. Wes didn’t want kids, stating that his dad will never support a half-breed. One day, I wasn’t feeling well, and I didn’t want to have sex. He busted my lip and got on top of me anyway. A few weeks later, he accused me of getting pregnant on purpose and beat me until I miscarried.”
I cannot help the tears that formed in my eyes; it is my most painful memory. His dad looked ahead as if I didn’t speak and his mother eyed him cautiously. I turn back to Wes.
“Is there anything else you want to rehash in front of your parents? Any more painful memories you want to relive. Any other way you want to prove why you’re such a monster, I am willing to leave with only ten percent of the original settlement just to get away from you?”
I stand and snatch up the folder when he doesn’t respond. “Goodbye, forever,” I proclaim as I look each one of them in the eyes. I don’t give two shits about his mother’s tears.
I storm off before they can see me cry. My vision is blurred by the time I get in the car with Brett. The tears attack me, and I start to cry uncontrollably. I’m crying for several reasons; hormones, that terrible memory I just had to relive, the letdown of adrenaline from facing the devil, and relief from getting my papers signed.
“Calm down. Don’t let that asshole take away two babies.” I nod and take a few deep breaths. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll rough him up if he ever steps out of line and gets arrested.”
Brett’s assurance makes me laugh through the tears.
“Promise?” I smile as I wipe away my tears with the tissue he gave me.
“It would be my pleasure.”
His hand warms my back, and it comforts me while making me miss Beau that much more. I want to call him, but I can’t yet. I have to let the fall-out run its course.
This is not the last I’ve seen of Weston, no matter what his parents say.
Beau
I’m livid.Every photo, text message, and voicemail makes me think of ten other ways to cut off Weston’s air supply. I’ve obsessed about it for weeks after I got the package. To say I’ve built a case file on Weston is an understatement. I heard about a certain stunning, black woman waltzing into their country club and facing down the Chesterfields. I can’t help but smirk to myself. I wish I could have seen it. I wish I had the ability to contact her.
“Come on Celeste. Contact me,” I plead to the air, I stare at the ceiling. I find myself not working again. I just want to know what’s going on.
Mel peeks into the room before sauntering inside with a stack of mail in her manicured hands. I perk up, hoping for something—anything.
