“I have people on the way,” I say, working hard to remain calm. “It’s no skin off my back if you want them to see you naked. Knock yourself out, sweetheart.” I turn and walk away as she screams and cries, ducking as something comes flying at my head.
I call Wilder on my way down the stairs. He lives closer to me than Linc. I should have asked them to come with me after we left the recording studio, but I hate having to ask them to drop everything to deal with my shit. Still, this has proven I need someone with me every time I am with Toria. I need witnesses because she’s a crazy bitch, and she’s capable of doing or saying anything.
Wilder arrives the same time the medical team does, closely followed by the cops and our two legal teams.
It’s a fucking shit show. Tor puts on the performance of a lifetime, and she’s taken away in an ambulance. She refused a breath test, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone could see she was intoxicated. My lawyers took contact details from everyone on the scene, and they’ll get statements. They also made everyone sign an NDA before they left. It’s important we keep this contained, but it’s a moot point if Toria continues blabbing to the press.
“I suggest we amend the paperwork to say she can stay in this house for the duration of her pregnancy, provided she agrees to a full-time nurse, agrees to take proper care of herself, abides by normal house rules, and she won’t do anything that would injure or pose a risk to her unborn child. We can ask for biweekly sobriety and drug tests. If she disagrees, we go to court,” my lawyer says as we discuss the situation in my dining room. Everyone but John and Wilder have left at this point.
“Okay.” I exhale heavily. “Also amend it to say when she has given birth she must choose where she wants to live. If she wants to remain in L.A., I will sign over this house to her, but I’ll be selling the Florence one. I’m not giving her both.”
“You’re not legally required to give her either one,” John says, making notes on his phone. “This place is massive. You could sell it and buy her something smaller.”
“She’ll be taking care of my son.”I hope.We discovered we are having a boy at the last scan. “I want them to be comfortable.”
John removes his glasses and looks at me. “We could consider petitioning the court to grant you full custody. After what I witnessed upstairs, I think you’d have a decent chance of getting it. She seems unhinged.”
“I thought the courts didn’t like taking children from their mothers.”
“They don’t, but if there is a risk to the welfare of the child, they will.”
“I don’t want to take her baby from her. Unless it’s absolutely necessary, and then I’ll fight her tooth and nail for full custody.” I’m hoping her maternal instincts will kick in when she delivers our child, but I’m not holding my breath.
“Let’s play it by ear,” John says, wrapping up his stuff. “I’ll get the amendments made and have a fresh copy couriered to her legal firm first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
He clamps a hand on my shoulder. “Stay strong, son, and I suggest you pack your bags and be gone before she’s let out of hospital.”
* * *
I land in London one week later, after some of the most stressful days of my life. Toria is determined to play hardball, but she fucked up by getting drunk and trashing my house. She clearly wasn’t expecting me home yet, and I’m glad she messed up. I have a chance to stop this now before she damages our unborn child. The hospital took blood, and we have official proof she was intoxicated. Unfortunately, it’s not enough to petition the court. There are no laws that restrict pregnant women from drinking, and it’s not even considered child neglect if the drinking is constant or to excess—which it should be in my opinion.
Drugs are a different story. California is one of dozens of states that criminalize taking drugs during pregnancy. While none were found in her bloodstream, I don’t trust her not to resort to cocaine. Toria is obsessed with her appearance, and she won’t continue drinking because of the potential weight gain. There is a high risk she will resort to coke instead. I know she does it. It’s part of the lifestyle, but hell will freeze over before I let her snort snow while carrying my child.
Unlucky for her, I have pics of her doing lines. We used it to threaten her. She had no choice but to agree to biweekly alcohol and drug testing and a day and night nurse. I’ve also got a full-time security detail protecting-slash-spying on her. Her lawyers convinced her to agree for her own safety. Now word is out, we’re both being hounded by the media and chased by paps. I got a clause added to the legal agreement to say if she deliberately sabotages the relationship with the nursing team and drives either lady away, we will petition the court to have her sentenced to a care facility for the remainder of her pregnancy. Proof of drug use, along with her volatile personality, should be enough to take her to court on the grounds of risk to the fetus.
The fact she agreed means she considers it a real threat, and at least I have something to hold over her now.
I’m sure she’s spitting blood, but I haven’t been alone with her since the confrontation at the house to know. When we met at the lawyer’s office to sign the agreement for the remaining period of her pregnancy, co-parenting, custody, and child support, she was on her best behavior, and there was barely a peep out of her.
I know she’s biding her time. She’s going to up the ante and try her best to destroy my sanity and my career, but for now, the situation is under control.
I wonder what Sydney is making of all this. As far as the public at large are concerned, Vittoria and I are still engaged and expecting a baby. Our PR people want to hold off on announcing the breakup because I’ll look like a callous jerk for breaking up with my pregnant fiancée if it comes out so soon after the baby news.
I wish I could fly to some remote island, with no internet and no paparazzi, and escape from my troubles. It’s tempting, but I can’t leave Cali for more than a few days because I don’t trust Toria. I’m worried she’s going to try to kill herself or end the pregnancy, but my bandmates disagree. They think she’s after my money and the baby is her golden key.
I hope they’re right. At least my son will be safe if that’s her agenda.
A car greets me at the airport, and I’m lost in thought on the drive to my mother’s home in Chelsea. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Sydney and everything that transpired years ago. God, I’ve missed that woman so much. A few hours in her company, and I’m lovesick all over again. We were so good together. I don’t care we were only kids. It was the real deal.
I knew then what I know now—she is my forever.
I’m going to fight to win her back.
Nothing else matters to me but her.
I’m so fucking pissed at the things her father did and annoyed at myself for not looking her up when we turned eighteen. I played right into Vil’s hand, reading more into that photo he sent and using it as the basis for turning my back on the only girl who has ever mattered.
