“Today, if possible. Ms. Harrington is quite anxious to have a conversation with you.”
“Deathbed confession,” Brick mutters, flicking a brow. “I’ll take you.”
I shake my head at him. To the attorney, I say, “I just landed from an overseas flight, but you can send a car to my residence in a couple of hours.”
“Thank you, Ms. Evans. I will have the driver call you when he arrives.” We end the call, and I stare at Brick. “You think she’s dying?”
“
She thinks she’s dying.” After a pause, he says, “I’d like to go with you, Madi. You were emotional after you found out who she is to you.”
“No. Thank you, Brick, but I’m going to do this one on my own. You focus on your pack. Figure out whether I’m your official mate or not.”
“You are,” he swears.
“Make me believe it.” I scoot past him to get off the sleeping platform, and he allows me to go.
“I will Madi.” His voice is somber.
My heart is breaking.
This isn’t a break-up. This isn’t a break-up. I remind myself. This is a re-calibration. This is a chance to fix what doesn’t work.
But what if it can’t be fixed? A voice whispers in my ear, and I find my way out of the jet and into the cold, miserable New York day.
* * *
Brick
I keep myself stoic, safely depositing Madi in her apartment and ordering a security detail to guard her twenty-four/seven.
The moment I get back to my penthouse, I tear the place apart. I upend the teal corduroy sofa. Smash the glass of the framed Worhol hanging on my exposed brick wall. In the kitchen, I find crushing the metal-legged bar stools to be particularly satisfying.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My mate is in Brooklyn instead of with me. Why did I let her go?
This feels like my parents’ marriage all over again. I don’t want Madi to be my Saturday lover. Someone I steal frantic physical moments with just to keep my wolf from going mad.
I don’t even know if Madi’s offering me conjugal visits anyway.
I’m not sure what just happened. Was she issuing an ultimatum? Figure it out or we’re done?
And if we’re done, chances are good,
I’m done. I marked her, which should inoculate me against moon madness, but the fact that I succumbed once makes the likelihood of going feral again much, much higher.
Of course, I had to set her free. I can’t keep her against her will. Locking her in my penthouse was my worst mistake.
No, denying she was my true mate was my worst mistake.
Hell, I’ve had too many worst mistakes with Madi to even know where they line up with each other.
I agreed because I love her, and the life I’m offering isn’t fair to her.
So my choice right now is to save myself and forsake the pack or risk a return to moon madness to keep my pack together.
* * *
Madi
A limo picks me up to take me to Mt. Sinai.
Heh. Six months ago, I’d never seen the inside of a limo. Now, it’s apparently my main form of transportation.
Oh yeah… and private jets. I need to have a conversation with Brick about carbon dioxide emissions from his jet and its effect on the environment. He needs to be doing some major off-setting.
Although, from what I saw at the Blackwood Family Foundation Ball, his family and pack do care about preserving our natural resources. Hopefully, he’s already footing the bill on some major reforestation projects around the globe.
These are the thoughts I use to distract myself from the gnawing emptiness in my chest. I may not be a wolf, but I’ve felt a strong sense of something missing since the moment Brick left my apartment.
I text Aubrey on the way to the hospital.
I’m home-I mean, back from Greece and moved back to our apartment (super long story). Right now I’m on the way to see my dear old grandmother for some kind of deathbed confession about how I’m actually a Harrington.
Aubrey calls two seconds after I hit send. “What the fuck? Are you okay?”
“Yep. I’m totally okay.” I am. “We’re just recalibrating,” I insist to convince myself as much as her. “On a scale of one to full breakup, this is a three or four.”
“What happened?”
“It’s such a long story.” And one I can’t tell my best friend, which absolutely sucks. “The short version is that I don’t feel like I’m a partner in the relationship, so I took a step back while we figure out what that looks like.”
That’s all true.
“I know Brick loves me. And I’ve finally admitted I’m in love, too. I’m also totally committed to making this work.”
“Well, that’s new.” Aubrey sounds encouraged.
“Yeah. So this isn’t me running scared this time. It’s from a position of strength. I don’t want to be a rich guy’s pampered girlfriend-that’s just not a role that’s going to work for me. I had a life before I met him. I need to have a meaningful life with him, too.”
“You want your old job back.”
My chest constricts. The loss of that job still hurts. “I don’t think so,” I say slowly. “I think I need to find another job.”
“Well, you’re still on the payroll at Moon Co-did you know that? And from the looks of it, you got a big, fat pay raise.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You got some official-looking mail from them while you were gone. One of the envelopes was ripped, so I took a peek. It was a paystub, which I thought was weird, since you said he wouldn’t give you your old job back.”
“That is weird.” I should be annoyed at Brick’s attempt to buy me, but I have to admit knowing I still have a paycheck coming in takes some of the pressure off figuring out my next steps.
“His form of an apology, maybe?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
I would never say I have a Cinderella complex, but I do feel loved by that gesture. Included, even though Brick didn’t want me to come back to work.
Is it a sign he plans to incorporate me back in at the office?
When I imagine going back to work for my Big Bad Boss, though, it doesn’t sit right. Things have changed too much. The hurt of being falsely accused and having others still believe I had something to do with the security breach is still too deep.
The limo pulls up in front of Mt. Sinai.
“Ooh, okay, I’m at the hospital now.” I wait for the limo driver to open my door. I now know how these things work.
“Yeah, what’s up with that?”
The driver opens the door and offers his hand. I take it and climb out like I’m the princess of Monaco or something.
“I don’t know. I got a call from her lawyer saying she had a stroke and requested to see me.”
“Work her for an inheritance,” Aubrey tosses in her two cents.
“As if I’d want th-“
“Don’t let pride get in the way. She fucking owes you. She owes your mom. Demand your due.”
I smile. Aubrey is always in my corner. “I have to go. Will you be home tonight?”
“I will be home. Want to watch 80’s movies?”
“Definitely. See you soon.” I end the call.
The driver points toward a man in a suit standing in the doorway of the hospital. “That’s Mr. Lewis. He will take you to Ms. Harrington’s room.”
“Oh.” A personal escort. I dust off my imaginary princess crown. “Okay, thank you.”
I follow Mr. Lewis through the maze of hallways on the fifth floor of the hospital until we get to a large private room with two walls of windows and at least two dozen giant flower arrangements sitting on every surface.
On the bed, Eleanor Harrington wears a full face of makeup, her dyed blonde hair in perfect order. Despite the effort put into her appearance, she appears frail and small in the bed. An IV runs to a port on the back of her hand, and an oxygen tube is plugged into her nostrils.
“Madison, darling.” She holds out a knotted hand.
Three men in expensive shirts and ties turn and stare at me.
My heart stops when I realize they must be her sons. One of them-Brett Harrington-is my dad.
“Who is this?” One of the men demands.
“Leave us.” Eleanor may look like a small gust of wind could carry her away, but her voice is as regal and commanding as any queen’s.
“Mother, what’s going on?” another of the men asks.
“Your mother has some legal affairs to see to,” Mr. Lewis says. “Please step out of the room, so we can conduct business.”
All three of the men eye me suspiciously. I don’t flinch. Not for one fucking second.
Here I am-your bastard daughter or niece. Look your fill, gentlemen. I am just as worthy of occupying space and breathing oxygen as you are.
“But what is this about?” the first man presses.
“Get.
Out
!” Ms. Harrington snaps, and all three men scurry to obey her. “Madison, my dear. Please come closer,” she says after they’ve gone.
I step closer to her, conscious of remaining poised. Not to please her, but to prove to myself that no one in this family will make me feel less-than. I spent my lifetime feeling that way thanks to them. I’m done.
She peers at me. “You don’t seem confused about why you are here.”
I nod coolly. “I have unraveled the secret of my parentage.”
“So you know that you are my granddaughter.”
“Yes. My mother told me what you did.”
The old woman winces. “I am sorry for what I did to her. Back then, I thought there’s nothing I couldn’t arrange or rearrange-including the life of my only grandchild.”
“Only?”
She nods. “Thank God your mother didn’t do my bidding. She did a marvelous job raising you. So much better than I did with my sons.” She waves a gnarled hand toward the door. “They are all buffoons. Spoiled, self-absorbed idiots incapable of finding their way out of a paper bag.”
I don’t answer. One of those idiots is my father. The asshole who didn’t even acknowledge me.
As if she’s reading my mind, she says, “Brett never knew.”
My lips fall open. “Never knew…”
“Never knew you existed. He thought your mother miscarried. I know, I should have told him, but…” she trails off, her mouth tight. “I was wrong. I kept him from you. I didn’t want him to marry your mother. I’m sorry.”
It’s hard to breathe. My chest feels like a steel plate is pressing down on it.
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