Chapter 3
SEAN
Rain was pouring down outside as my car crawled through the storm. Matt slowed down, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. "Sir, there's a woman flagging us down. Should we stop and help her?"
"Drive on," I commanded, fingers tightening around the silver ring I'd been twirling. "Compassion is a luxury I can't afford."
The car sped through a puddle, spraying water over the woman.
"Sir, are you sure? She has a child with her," Matt pressed, his voice betraying his disapproval.
"Plenty of desperate people in New York," I snapped, turning away. "Not our problem."
The ambulance lights flashed in the distance as we drove past. Good. The problem solved itself.
I shoved down the unwelcome twinge of guilt. Three years in prison taught me exactly what compassion got you. A knife between the ribs from another inmate. A permanent record. All thanks to the one person I had loved above all others.
"Sir, your meeting with—"
"Cancel it," I interrupted, rubbing the scar near my heart. "Take me home."
The woman's desperate cries echoed in my mind. But that figure looked so damn much like Eve. I shook my head—couldn't be her. She didn't have kids. I'd become exactly what prison had made me - cold, ruthless, untouchable. And I wasn't sorry for it.
EVE
"Ma'am, stay back!" The nurse blocked me as they wheeled Grace into the ER.
"Please save her!" I grabbed the nurse's arm. "She's only six! Heart condition!"
"We'll do our best. You need to calm down."
My legs gave out. I slid down the wall, shaking. The alcohol allergy made my throat tight, skin burning. But the terror of losing Grace was worse.
This helplessness. Just like how Sean looked at me six years ago in that prison visiting room.
"I hate you more than anyone," he'd said, voice ice-cold.
I deserved his hatred. But Grace didn't deserve this.
"Careful." Strong hands steadied me.
I looked up. "Dr. Thompson?"
"Eve? What happened?" He helped me to a chair, noting my flushed face and hives.
"Grace... breathing problems... no taxis... rain..."
He frowned. "You remember I recommended that heart procedure three years ago? Why haven't you done it?"
I looked away. "I was scared of the risks, and... I don't have enough money."
He squeezed my shoulder. "Let me check on her."
Thirty minutes later, they brought Grace out.
"She's stable," the doctor said. "But she needs that procedure soon. Discuss it with your husband."
"It's just me," I mumbled.
He nodded. "She can go to a regular room now."
"Mommy?" Grace's small voice pulled me from my half-sleep at 2 AM.
"Hey sweetie," I leaned forward, stroking her hair. "How are you feeling?"
"Are we at the hospital?" Her eyes darted around the dimly lit room.
I nodded. "The doctor says you're very brave. No school tomorrow, okay?"
She wrinkled her nose. "Mommy, you smell funny. Why do you smell alcohol?"
My heart raced. I couldn't tell her the truth – that I'd drunk vodka to earn money from the man who hated me most in the world. The man who was her father.
"Mommy had dinner with colleagues," I lied. "Had a little drink. Didn't expect this to happen."
"Did you have fun?" she asked innocently.
I blinked back tears. "Yes. And when you're better, I'll take you to KFC, okay?"
Her eyes lit up. "Really? I want a family bucket!"
I nodded, silently thanking Sean for the money he'd thrown at me. At least it would feed my daughter.
Dr. Thompson arrived at 7 AM carrying containers of food. 'Morning. Brought some soup and mashed potatoes.
"That's too kind," I said, embarrassed by his attention.
His eyes caught the red welts on my hands. "Allergic reaction?" He pulled out a tube of cream. "Use this. It helps."
"Thank you." I applied the cream, avoiding his gaze.
"Your situation seems complicated," he said quietly. "Some burdens aren't meant to be carried alone."
I stared at the floor. I couldn't accept his kindness, couldn't drag another good person into my mess. I'd already destroyed Sean's life. I wouldn't ruin anyone else's.
After Dr. Thompson left, Grace watched me with those perceptive eyes she'd inherited from her father.
"Mommy, Dr. Thompson totally likes you," she announced.
I laughed despite myself. "Don't be silly."
"He looks at you the way princes look at princesses in my shows."
"You watch too many cartoons."
Her expression turned serious. "Are you still thinking about Daddy?"
My heart skipped. "Mommy loves Grace the most now. I don't think about anyone else."
"Natalie says you should date handsome guys to be happy," she said, patting my hand with surprising maturity.
I smiled. "You're too grown-up for your age."
"I just want you to be happy," she said simply.
She hesitated, then asked, "Is Daddy really dead?"
I froze. Since Grace was old enough to ask, I'd told her her father had passed away. The lie protected us both from Sean's hatred.
"Was Daddy more handsome than Dr. Thompson?" she pressed.
I pictured Sean's face – those sharp features, that proud nose, those piercing eyes. Even last night, glaring at me with hatred, he remained the most beautiful man I'd ever seen.
"Yes," I whispered. "Your father was very handsome."
At Princeton University, there was a saying: "Acing finals and dating Sean from Law School are the two impossible achievements for girls." Back then, his smiles were only for me.
"I wish I could meet him," Grace said softly.
My chest tightened painfully. She could never know her father was Sean. The man who hated me to his core.
After Grace fell asleep, I checked my bank account. Tonight's $3,500 from Sean, minus the $2,500 I'd already spent on medications, left just $1,000. Rent was due in two weeks.
Grace's procedure would cost $30,000. I was still $20,000 short.
I touched the silver ring hanging from my neck, tears sliding down my cheeks. Maybe I should call Mirage Lounge again. Maybe Sean would return. Maybe he'd give me another chance to humiliate myself for money.
Whatever the cost, whatever humiliation Sean inflicted, I would endure it for Grace.
"Oh my god, look at my princess! You've gotten so skinny!" Natalie burst into the room at that moment, arms loaded with toys and snacks.
"Natalie!" Grace squealed, reaching out. "You're squeezing too hard! My face hurts!"
Natalie hugged Grace tight, covering her with kisses and dumping presents on the bed.
"Nat, that's too much," I sighed.
"Kids deserve spoiling," she replied dismissively.
"Natalie, I love you! Thank you!" Grace clutched a new teddy bear.
While Grace explored her gifts, Natalie pulled me into the hallway.
"What happened last night?" she whispered. "You really ran into Sean at that club?"
"Yes. Made $3,500," I nodded. "Already took antihistamines."
"God, Eve! Alcohol allergies can kill you!" She examined my face. "You know what he's done to you over the years, right? Blacklisting you from every media job?"
"I deserve it," I said simply.
"Are you really going to keep hiding Grace from him?" she asked cautiously. "He is her father."
I covered her mouth. "Shh! Sean can never know about Grace. You don't understand him, Nat. He hates me down to his bones. If he knew Grace was his daughter..."
"What? He'd take her away?"
"He would," I said with certainty. "Sean's nature—when he loves, he loves completely. When he hates, he leaves nothing behind."
I remembered a party six years ago. A drunk guy touched my arm. Sean broke the man's hand. "Don't let anyone but me touch you," he'd whispered in my ear. "I can't stand it."
What would that possessiveness become now? If he knew Grace was his daughter...
Natalie's phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. Her expression changed as she listened.
"What? Are you sure? Okay, got it." She hung up, looking uncomfortable.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Sean and Isabella Wilson's engagement just hit Instagram's trending page," she said, watching me closely. "The magazine wants me to verify it."
My chest tightened, but I kept my face neutral. "He's engaged? That's good. good..."
"You really don't care?" Natalie looked skeptical.
"Maybe it's good news," I forced a smile. "Maybe once he's married... he'll forget about his revenge."
Sean getting married. I should be happy for him, but why does my heart hurt like this?