Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
And it kills me.
I brought her here to punish her for her betrayal and the sense of relief I had when I knew she didn’t betray us… but now…
“Monster Gerard!” I look up in surprise. No one ever recognizes me here. As soon as I look up, I see three university students with backpacks carrying bags ahead of me.
Wait. Did they say Monster?
“Is that him?”
More people look my way.
“It’s him, the one on the news!” one shouts.
“The bastard responsible for hurting all those poor orphans?” another asks, loudly.
Too loudly.
Orphans? What now?
What the fuck is going on?
“Gerard,” one repeats.
“Gerard?”
They’re repeating my name with horror and hatred, and I can almost feel the swell of the mob mentality.
I’m not one to run away, but I wouldn’t even know who to target right now. My gun is safely secured in the harness, but if they’re ridiculing me for being violent and bringing violence to Paris, drawing a weapon will only throw fuel on the fire.
My family doesn’t target civilians.
I turn to face them, finding a wall of people behind me. That quickly, they’ve gone from ambivalence to hatred, swarming and screaming. Some are throwing things and others are taking pictures with their phones. Someone pushes me and I shove back, which elicits a scream. “Don’t let him hurt us! Get him!”
What?
“Hey, I’m not hurting anyone.” I don’t want to draw attention to myself. That’s not how I work.
A big, burly guy puts his hand on me, and I lose it. I’m no fucking pacifist. I hit him so hard I break his jaw. He falls to the ground screaming, holding his jaw in his hands. The crowd presses in on me. I can’t breathe. I’m smothered by their hands on me. I’ve never seen these people before.
I can’t call my brothers or even fight my way out. The crowd begins to pull me down. I’m on my knees when someone leans down and breathes in my ear.
“Don’t fight it, Lyam, if you know what’s good for you.”
I shove my way up, looking for the person who spoke to me.
“Who the fuck was that?” I manage to extricate myself from two men when three more who look vaguely familiar grab me from behind.
“He’s trying to hurt us!” one yells.
“Call the police!” another yells.
Cameras flash again. I’m shoving and pushing but getting nowhere. A prick hits my neck. I flail as realization dawns on me.
It was a setup, all of it. These aren’t tourists or students. This was a setup.
I punch the guy in front of me as the world gets hazy.
“We’ve got him.”
Cosette.
Our baby.
I sink into a world of darkness.
SIXTEEN
Cosette
I’m torn between disbelief that he can be so heartless and refuse to listen to me, and anger at myself for not telling him sooner.
When would there have been a better time? When we were in his family home in Paris and Savannah and Thayer were there? Oh, maybe when we were in the hospital making sure I wasn’t losing our baby. Could’ve been perfect timing if I’d told him back when we were in his home, and I shared with him I was pregnant. Get it all over with at once?
I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale.
I know the truth and there’s no point in lying to myself.
There is no such thing as perfect timing.
A part of me feels I’ve been betrayed too. I wish I’d earned enough trust from them that they’d give me the benefit of the doubt. But no. His brother tells him Montague is my father, and immediately he sees me as a traitor.
I am, though. I know I am.
I wouldn’t knowingly hurt any of them. I hope he knows that now. But I may have put them at risk.
I groan and sink to my knees when the familiar pang of nausea hits me. Good God, when will this end? I fight it but can’t help it and in the end I succumb.
When I’m finally spent, every crumb of my breakfast gone, I lay my head on my arms and weep.
I know I shouldn’t have kept anything from him. I know. And while I felt that first pang of rejection when he told me I couldn’t be with him anymore, this feels so much more final.
“Mademoiselle?” I stand weakly and go to the door. I open it to find Philippe with luggage. “I’m ready to take you.”
“I have to pack.”
“Mr. Gerard already did that for you.”
“That quickly?”
“No, ma’am,” Philippe says almost shyly. “He packed your bags last night when you were sleeping.”
I follow him in a stupor. I look around for Lyam but he’s gone. We just made love. We just argued and… did we break up? I don’t even know where this leaves me now. And all this time, he knew. He knew he was sending me away. That all my worldly possessions were here. So without a word to me, he decided to send me away and packed my things.