London this time of year felt almost unreal. The sun was high with no trace of the rain I usually associated with the city. I stood in front of the prison gates, staring for a second before forcing my feet forward.
I was there to see my brother.
He had been arrested a month before Viviane found out she was pregnant. He never wanted her to know. Shame had a way of sealing his mouth shut. He kept her hidden, kept the truthburied, even the fact that he had a wife. And the worst part was that if I had known, I would have stopped it. I should have.
Instead, I stepped in for her. It felt like something I owed after everything her family had already survived after losing Lily. One loss should have been enough.
My brother never wanted Helena to know who her father really was. Never wanted her to hear the word bastard attached to her name. I made sure of that. I never even kissed Viviane. I just gave her a chance. A chance to carry the Rosewood name. A chance to make Helena a Rosewood.
She was nine now. Old enough to ask questions. And one rather uncomfortable question came. She asked me if Lilibeth could be her mother.
The truth was, I had been seeing Lilibeth for two years. I never found the courage to make it real. I told myself I was waiting, but the truth was I was still holding space for someone else.
The prison doors buzzed open, pulling me back. Inside, everything felt stripped down to white walls. It took me a minute to reach the metal table, and until I saw him in gray joggers and hoodie. It was a strange sight since all I could remember was him wearing a dark blue or black suit.
“Richard,” I said, stepping forward, pulling him into a hug. “So good to see you.”
“Look at you,” he laughed, pulling back. “You’re getting bigger and bigger. Are you training?”
“Just boxing now and then,” I said, lifting my hands, throwing a couple of lazy punches in the air the way he had taught me years ago.
“Good,” he smiled, dropping into the chair.
I sat across from him.
“I didn’t know you were in town,” he said, leaning back. “What brought you here?”
“I came to tell you something,” I said. “I’m getting married.”
The smirk spread across his face. “That pianist?”
“No.” My lips pressed together for a second. “The nanny.”
His brows pulled together. “The nanny?”
“Yeah.” I let out a breath, rubbing my thumb along the edge of the table. “It’s time to stop waiting.” I nodded once, more to myself than to him. “She chose my best friend instead.”
“You never forgave him. That asshole knew you liked her and still took her right in front of your eyes.”
My jaw tightened. “Men are pigs. Some have morals, but most of them are just pigs.”
“You know you’re a man, right?” He said, laughing.
“I have morals,” I shot back, lifting a brow. “He’s just a pig.”
Daniel was four years younger than me, but we grew up side by side. He met Aurelia two years ago, the first time she came over to my house. I told him to stay away. But he never knew how to keep his hands to himself. He wanted her, no matter what it cost us.
I despised him for it.
And even after I warned her, told her exactly what kind of man he was, she still walked straight into his arms like she couldn’t see the damage waiting for her there.
I prayed he didn’t touch her the way he did others. I prayed I wouldn’t see a bruise on her skin. Because if I ever caught him laying a hand on her, God help him.
Richard let out a laugh, but it faded quickly, his expression softening. “How is she? Helena?”
“Growing like she’s been watered every day,” I said, lifting my hand to show her height. “She’s good. She keeps asking about Viviane.”
“Did she know?”
