Page 39 of The Billionaire and His Forever

I’ve done my best to keep myself poised as insanity rained down on my household. I remained calm when they cuffed my bride. I remained resolute when the press trespassed on my property to take incriminating photos of Abbie being led out in her wedding dress. I’ve kept composure as my guests, few though they are, mill around sending me pitying looks.

All this I’ve done, but I’m about to break.

“I need to go call my lawyer,” I say to no one in particular. I catch eyes with Mary and tilt my head toward Jude, asking her to keep watch. Mary nods her understanding, and I go.

My self-control is crumbling the entire way down the hall, and I slam the door, hard, as I enter my office. I pour two fingers of Scotch into a tumbler and throw the alcohol back without a second thought. Then I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Bow.

“What the fuck is going on, Bowen?” I demand as soon as she answers the phone—after her MIA act the last time I had legal troubles, she’s been keeping extra tabs on me, picking up all my calls instantly, checking in every day. “Why did my bride just get arrested and dragged away from our wedding ceremony in handcuffs? The cops wouldn’t tell me anything. Start talking.”

“Shit. Looks like Natasha woke up this morning. I’ve been in fucking meetings all day, this is the first I’m hearing about it.” I can hear her fingers flying across her keyboard in the background. “Apparently an ‘unidentified source’ has been leaking nonstop to the media, and Natasha’s blaming the whole thing on Abbie. It’strendingnow. Jesus Christ.”

A bark of a laugh escapes me. “That’s preposterous. It was an overdose!”

“Well, whatever this alleged source is saying has cast enough doubt for an arrest to be made. I’d bet you anything it’s Natasha herself talking to the press.”

“Whoever it is, you need to stop them.” I pour another finger’s worth into my glass, my hand shaking. I don’t know what to do with this rage, and it’s becoming dangerous.

Bow huffs in frustration. “I’d love to. But we’ve been over this, Graham. I can’t interfere with an active police investigation. Due process can’t be sidestepped. All we can do is sue their asses after the fact, which we will, especially since they’re now two for two on the false arrests.”

“Fuck the legal system,” I hiss and swallow down my second drink. “I need you to get to that police station as soon as possible, Bow. That’s my wife.”

“You made it official? Congratulations,” she says, sounding genuinely pleased.

I wince. “Almost wife. They hauled her off before we could exchange vows. Look, just head over now and I’ll meet you at the station as soon as I can.”

“Absolutely not.” Bow is firm, which makes me bristle. “You showing up will cause more harm than good. And besides, Jude needs you right now. Stay home, Graham. I’m the lawyer, let me do my job.”

My lip curls hard. “Like you did last time?”

“That’s not fair. I was on an urgent case for a client in Monaco. I know the timing was shit, but I promise I will spend the rest of my career making it up to you, okay? Starting now.”

I let out a long breath. “Fine. Do what you must.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I have some answers. Sit tight.”

We hang up, but I’m still pacing my office, boiling over with pent-up anxiety and anger. If I can’t be with Abbie, there’s only one other place for me to go: the hospital.

I return to the kitchen and find Esmeralda, pulling her to the side for a private chat.

“I need to leave.”

“Of course, Mr. Ratliff,” she says. “What can we do?”

“I need someone to take care of Jude.”

She offers a wry smile and gestures to the table by the window, where Abbie’s best friend is currently painting Jude’s nails, the two of them having what appears to be a very animated conversation.

“I don’t anticipate that being a problem. Amanda already offered to help however necessary. I’ll handle the guests myself,” Esmeralda says.

“Thank you.”

I kiss Jude goodbye and promise to be back as soon as possible.

“Are you going to get Abbie?” my daughter asks, looking terrified. Amanda squeezes her shoulder reassuringly.

“I’m going to do my best,” I promise.

There are no more paps outside by the time I peel down the driveway in my car, and for once, I’m disappointed not to see them. Hurling one of their cameras across the grounds would have been immensely cathartic.

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