I wasn't sure how long I worked, but at some point, the bell over my front door chimed and I looked up to see who was coming in. I assumed it was someone looking for directions or wondering what type of business this was. A part of me even thought it could be Blayne, though I quickly quashed that hope. I'd meant what I'd told him. He deserved better than me.
I needn't have worried about it because it wasn't Blayne. And it wasn't some stranger, though the tall, distinguished-looking gentleman walking towards me wasn't too far off.
“Mr. Westmore,” I greeted my father-in-law with a polite smile. I stood and walked towards him. Benjamin Franklin Westmore Sr. was the kind of man who expected respect and courtesy. Unfortunately for him, his treatment of his son had made it impossible for me to truly respect him. Blayne had told me that his parents liked me, but I couldn't say the feeling was mutual. I despised his oldest brother, Benjamin Jr., and was indifferent about his sisters. I liked Samuel, but his parents...well, it took a lot of self-control for me not to tell them exactly what I thought of them.
“If you are looking for Blayne, he is not here,” I said as I shook hands with him. “I assume he is at work. I did not see him this morning.” I didn't add that it was because I was no longer living in the same apartment.
He waved a dismissive hand, as if he couldn't be bothered to think about his son. My mouth tightened and I had to remind myself that it wasn't my place to comment.
“I came to see you.”
I didn't bother to ask how he knew where my studio was when I hadn't even told Blayne the address. Aside from the fact that I knew he'd had people watching Blayne and me from moment one, I'd applied for my business loan under my married name. I was sure his friends at the bank had only been too happy to share any information he wanted.
“Yes?” I resisted the urge to fold my arms and glare at him.
“I know the truth.”
My stomach turned to ice. He knew the truth? My brain scrambled to come up with some excuse that would keep Blayne protected. I could tell his father that I was leaving because I'd met someone else, that it wasn't Blayne's fault and he should give his son another chance. I didn't know if it'd work, but it was all I could do. Then he continued and I realized that he wasn't talking about my marriage.
“Since you and Blayne married, I've had several people on my payroll watching him.” He didn't sound the least bit apologetic for spying on his son. “And all those in my employ knew to call me if he did anything suspicious. Last week, I received calls from two people telling me that my son had come to them with concerns.”
My hands curled into fists and I could feel my nails biting into my palms.
Mr. Westmore sighed. “I had expected news about Blayne's misbehavior, not anything about you.”
The blood drained from my face, but I didn't say a word. I wasn't going to give him anything he didn't already know. And if he wanted to accuse me of deceit, I'd let him, especially if it helped Blayne.
His voice was surprisingly gentle and I could almost hear Blayne in it. “I was sorry to hear about your losses. And at such a young age.”
“Thank you,” I said stiffly.
“Dr. Fraser told me Blayne's theory about you.” He gave me a searching look. “The information I've gathered since speaking with her and my PI makes me believe that's the case.”
So much for doctor-patient privilege, I thought. Going to the family shrink hadn't been the best idea Blayne'd ever had.
“Is it true?” Mr. Westmore asked.
I nodded. “It is.”
“And neither you nor my son knew it when you married?”
“No, Sir,” I said.
He nodded, as if I'd settled some matter for him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He held it out and I took it automatically. It wasn't until I opened it that I saw it was a check. One with a hell of a lot of zeros.
“I want you to walk away.” The corner of his mouth twitched as if he was amused. “Not literally. You don't need to leave the city. Just Blayne. I'll have the divorce papers sent to you later this week.”
My heart twisted painfully. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. The Westmores were old money, high-class. They wouldn't want someone with my kind of issues in their family. I started to hand the check back. “I understand. I will do as you ask and not be a burden to your family. I do not want your money though.”
He gave me a puzzled look and made no move to take the check. “No, I don't think you understand. I'm not asking you to divorce Blayne or giving you money to keep quiet or anything like that. That check is to help you.”
I frowned, confused.
“It's not that I don't think you're good enough for my son, my dear girl. He's not good enough for you.”
My jaw dropped slightly.
Mr. Westmore motioned to the studio. “Even with everything you've been through, losing your family, where you were raised, the issues you're having, you've managed to do more with your life than Blayne ever has.”
Anger flared inside me and my mouth snapped shut.
“To get healthy, you're going to need support and my son won't be there for you. He's too much of a screw-up for that. As I'm sure you already know since my sources tell me that you're no longer at the penthouse.”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I knew that the Westmores considered Blayne to be a disappointment, but this was beyond that.
“You take that money, get better, and make something of yourself, Livie. You have far more potential for greatness than he does.” He turned to walk away.
Something inside me snapped and I could feel a new part of me coming forward. It was the strangest sensation. It wasn't like someone was taking over, but rather giving back something I'd lost. I knew where it came from – who it came from – but I didn't have the time to stop and analyze because there was something I needed to say.
“Mr. Westmore!”
Anger that I usually kept bottled tight inside me was pushing its way to the surface, hotter and brighter than anything I'd felt in a long time. I walked towards my father-in-law, tearing his check into pieces as I went.
“I do not want your money or your admiration.” I couldn't believe I was actually saying this to Benjamin Westmore, but I couldn't seem to stop either. It was
her
, I knew, the part of me that had been Katka. I wasn't turning into her, but she was there nonetheless. “He did not abandon me when he found out the truth. He wanted to stay with me. I am the one who walked away. Not because I did not trust him to be there for me, but because I know he deserves someone better. Someone whole.” I crossed my arms. “Your son is a kind, compassionate man with so much talent and potential, if you would only let yourself see.” I shook my head. “Even if you do not believe in him, I do.”
Mr. Westmore's face was blank and I couldn't tell if he was angry or if anything I'd said had made an impact. It didn't matter though. I didn't want him to be here anymore.
“Now, if you will excuse me. I have work to do.” I motioned towards the door. “I am sure you can see yourself the rest of the way out.”
Chapter 8
Blayne
I'd spent the week trying to do what Livie had said she'd wanted. I didn't call her or text her or make any attempts to contact her even though I desperately wanted to. I missed her so badly that it was a physical ache. And it wasn't just the Katka part of her either. I missed Livie's steady presence, the confidence she exuded all the time. The way her eyes shined when she smiled. I missed the way she looked at me, as if expecting something more.
Trying for distraction, I'd thrown myself into my work, getting there early and staying late, working through lunch unless I was meeting with someone. I had Samuel explain things in more detail than I needed, forcing myself to focus so I would know our products forwards and backwards. I knew he thought it was strange, but he never asked about my behavior. I was thankful for the space. I didn't want to think about it, let alone talk about it. I'd worked myself to exhaustion on purpose so that I'd be able to go home, eat, shower and fall into bed.
It had been working too, but then my father had ordered me to a family dinner Friday evening and I knew I couldn’t avoid things much longer. I couldn't ask Livie to come, but I didn't like the idea of lying to my family and saying she was on a business trip either. However, telling my family that my wife had just found out that the twin sister she'd thought she'd had, and who I thought I'd been sleeping with, wasn't actually real, but was instead an alternate personality brought about by watching said sister die sixteen years ago...yeah, that didn't really seem like the best dinner conversation.
Oddly enough, however, while Benjamin made snide remarks about Livie's absence, no one else said anything. I assumed Samuel had figured out that something was wrong and cautioned Hannah against asking me questions, but nothing explained my parents' silence on the matter. Or the fact that my dad barely spoke to me, not even to criticize. The thing was, I didn't get the impression that it wasn't because he was missing new fodder either. Something was on his mind.
Halfway through the meal, I finally couldn't take the banal conversation anymore and excused myself. I didn't linger in the bathroom, not wanting to see how worn I looked. Not because I really cared about how I looked, but because it was just another reminder. I wasn't ready to go back to the dining room either so I wandered the opposite way down the hall. I went past the library and started to walk past my father's study when I realized the door was open.
I wasn't sure if it was curiosity or if I just wanted to do something that would piss him off, but I went inside. We were forbidden to go in there unless we'd been summoned for some sort of lecture, and Dad had always been in there first.
I circled around his desk, feeling the entire time like a little kid about to get caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It was strange to see things from this side. The last time I'd been in here, Dad had been sitting in his chair, like always, and I'd been on the other side of the desk, the same way I had as a child. Only this time, he hadn't grounded me or lectured me about some minor indiscretion. No, the last time I'd been in this room, I'd been given the ultimatum that had led to the situation I found myself in now.
I looked down at the desk, tempted to move around the files that were sitting on top of it. I might have done it or I might have left them alone, but I never had the chance to decide because something on one of the papers caught my eye.
Livie Dusek.
I stopped. Why did my father have a paper with Livie's name on it? As I looked more closely, one word stood out. Divorce.
My temper flared and all of the restraint I used when I spent time with my family disappeared. I snatched up the papers and stormed out of the office, heading straight back to the dining room. I'd had enough. My father had crossed the line. I felt my siblings all start and stare when I came in, but I didn't look at any of them. I went straight to my father.
“What the hell is this?!” I shoved the papers at him. “Some cheap attempt to get out of our deal? You're going to do what, pay Livie off in hopes she'll divorce me so you can disinherit me? Or did you threaten her, because I know she wouldn't take your money?”
My dad raised an eyebrow and took another sip of his wine. “If you'll calm down, I'll explain.”
I dropped the papers on his plate, not caring that they landed on what was left of his prime cut veal. “Explain.”
“I know about Livie's...condition.” He glanced behind me and I knew he was being discreet because of my siblings.
“How the hell...” I started to ask through gritted teeth. “Never mind. I don't care how you found out. It's none of your business.”
“The health of your wife is indeed my business,” he countered. “She's a fine young woman and I wanted to make sure she received the best possible care.”
“Which you offered her in exchange for a divorce,” I finished.
“Ultimately, yes,” he admitted. “I gave her a check and told her that she should get better.”
“And?” My voice was tight. I wanted Livie to have the best care possible and I wouldn't blame her for taking my father's offer. But I hadn't seen a signature on those papers.
“And she tore it up.” There was a note of admiration in his voice.
“Why?” My hands were clenched in fists so tight that my knuckles were starting to ache.
A smile played on his lips. “I told her the truth, that she wouldn't be able to rely on you because you've never cared about anyone but yourself. She had a few choice words to say to that, all of which were very complimentary to you.”
She'd stood up for me. My chest tightened. After everything, she'd defended me to my father.
“She seems to be under the impression that I've misjudged you,” he continued. “Though the fact that you gave up so easily when she walked away does make me wonder if it isn't she who's misjudged.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that he was wrong, that I hadn't given up. I hadn't realized it until that very moment, but I wasn't done. I didn't know how I was going to do it or in what capacity, but I wasn't going to let her go through this alone. I was prepared to say all of that and more when someone behind me decided to break their silence with his own unwelcome and insulting opinion.