Page 81 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO
“Honey, it’s about Hazel.” She sighed as if bracing herself. “She…, came to me. For money. Two million. She said she would leave you if I gave her enough.”
“What?”
“I didn’t want to tell you.” Her voice was soft, almost apologetic. “But I could not keep it from you anymore. I gave her a cheque, Liam. I begged her to let you go if she did not love you, and she took it. I have the proof.”
It felt like the floor had dropped out from under me. “She…, took it?”
“Yes.” A pause, then the final blow: “I thought she was different, but I was wrong. I just wanted to protect you, darling.”
The phone had slipped from my hand. My mother’s voice became a faint hum in the background as the pictures burned themselves into my brain.
Present
I press the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to stop the onslaught of memories. But they keep coming, one after another, like relentless waves.
I am transported back to the night at the bar and then standing outside her empty apartment, the curtains drawn, the door locked. The landlord had told me she had left. Just like that. Gone. No note, no explanation.
For a year, I was a wreck. I could not eat, couldn’t sleep. The betrayal consumed me and ate away at everything good I had ever felt for her. I told myself I hated her, that I was better off without her. And now… now I am supposed to believe that none of it was real? That my mother, my family, orchestrated the very thing that tore us apart.
Why?
I push off the couch, pacing again. My chest tightens with a mix of anger and shame. I do not want to believe her. I do not want to believe that my mother - my family - could do something so manipulative, so cruel.
A sick feeling churns in my stomach. “Damn it,” I mutter, my voice raw.
How could I have been so blind? So, willing to believe the worst about the woman I love?
Love.
The word hits me like a punch to the gut. I still love Hazel. My mind is a battlefield, torn between anger, regret, and a flicker of something I am too afraid to name. Hope.
What do I do now? How do I even begin to fix this? Fix the fact that I might have lost the best thing that ever happened to me for nothing.
Chapter twenty-three
Hazel
Aknock on the door interrupts my morning routine. I freeze for a moment, as I am not expecting anyone. I pull the door open, and the last – well, that is a lie – the person I want to see is standing there. His hands are in his pockets, his shoulders tense. He looks…, apologetic. Confused?
“Good morning,” he says, his voice quiet, almost careful.
I fold my arms. “Can I help you?”
He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “Can I come in?”
I arch a brow. “And if I say no?”
His jaw tightens slightly, but then he sighs. “Please, Hazel. I just…, I just want to talk.”
I stare at him for a moment longer, my pride screaming at me to slam the door in his face. But curiosity, or maybe the tiniest sliver of masochism, wins. With a sigh, I step aside.
He steps in, the air between us thick with tension. I stay by the door, crossing my arms. “Whatever it is, make it quick. I have things to do.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then, finally, he clears his throat. “I want to talk about last night.”
“There’s nothing left to say,” I reply, keeping my voice steady. “Everything that needed to be said has been said. I have nothing else to add.”
“But I do.” He takes a step closer, and I instinctively step back. “I have something to ask you.”
