His Heir Was a Lie

I lay curled beneath a massive exposed root, cold sweat soaking through the thin hospital gown.

The wound across my abdomen screamed with every movement, each shift tearing it open all over again.

When I was little, the bullies at the orphanage used to lock me in a pitch-black closet. That fear never left me.

I couldn't breathe. My heart hammered so hard it felt like it would burst out of my throat.

Giles knew. He knew all of it. He used to carry me on his back even on dark roads so I wouldn't be afraid.

I laughed—suddenly, out of nowhere—and the tears came while I was still laughing.

The man who once swore he'd spoil me for the rest of my life, who promised I'd never suffer—that man was dead. The years had killed him.

I couldn't stay here. There was one thing I still had to do.

I clenched my teeth, braced my elbows against the ground, and dragged myself forward inch by inch.

Dirt, gravel, snapped twigs. They carved bloody lines across my body, still raw from surgery.

I didn't know how long I crawled before I finally saw the edge of the woodland.

There was light.

I threw everything I had left into reaching it, but two tall figures stepped into my path.

Giles's bodyguards.

They looked down at me. Nothing but contempt and amusement in their eyes.

"Mrs. Gilbert, CEO Gilbert says if you won't apologize, you're never stepping out of these woods."

"Bathroom, sleep—you do it right here on the ground."

One of them delivered it without inflection.

"Honestly, Mrs. Gilbert, just apologize already. You know what kind of money CEO Gilbert's got? There's women lined up out the door waiting for him to keep them. You're an orphan—latching onto a man like him is more luck than you deserved in ten lifetimes. And you won't even give him a kid because you're scared it'll hurt…"

"You won't do it, plenty of others will. You think CEO Gilbert really wants to hang around waiting on you? He hasn't divorced you yet—that's already more than you deserve. So what are you making a fuss about? Just sit there, be a rich wife, and shut up."

"Think it over. When you've come to your senses, call for us."

My fingers clawed into the mud.

Nails cracked from the force, blood mixing with dirt, the pain boring straight to the bone.

"Wait."

I lifted my head and forced sound through a throat so raw it barely obeyed.

"Tell Giles."

"I'll apologize."

"I'm going back for one thing. Once I have it, I'm gone."

"I will never set foot in the Gilbert house again."

The two guards exchanged a glance, then one of them made the call.

Before long, a blinding set of high beams sliced through the dark.

Giles had come himself.

He got out, walked over, and stood above me, looking down at the mud and filth covering every inch of me.

Something shifted behind his eyes, too fast for me to read.

Then it was gone, replaced by open mockery.

"Beulah. So your pride was worth exactly one night in the dark?"

"Could've spared yourself the trouble."

He reached down to haul me off the ground.

The instant his warm palm touched my frozen arm, my body betrayed me with a shiver, some old reflex left over from years of needing him.

But the next second, a violent wave of nausea surged up from my stomach.

I wrenched his hand away and collapsed forward, retching against the dirt.

Giles's expression turned ugly.

He grabbed me roughly off the ground, shoved me into the car.

Neither of us spoke on the drive back.

At the villa, Lucinda was draped across the sofa looking delicate and pampered, a servant attending to her every need.

The moment she saw me, a smile of pure satisfaction spread across her face.

Giles pushed me in front of her and clamped both hands down on my shoulders.

"Kneel."

Cold. Not a voice—just ice shaped into a word.

I didn't fight it.

My knees struck the cold marble floor with a dull, heavy crack.