chapter thirteen

“You’re not well. Tell them you’ve been seeing things—that’s why you acted like that the other night. Say you’ve been seeing a therapist, and it got better for a while, but now it’s back. Make it sound convincing. Let them believe you’re working on getting better.” That’s what Raymond wanted me to tell the Greys. And of course, I wasn’t going to say any of that.

Raymond knew it too so he threatened me with my daughter’s life. I scoffed. She wasn’t even with him. I just prayed whoever had her wasn’t doing anything terrible to her. The car pulled up in front of the Greys’ estate, and I stepped out of the backseat. The first thing I saw was regret, dressed in a suit. Keith Cross.

Great. My morning was already ruined.

He was standing in front of me, blocking my way. I was surprised at first, then confused—then anger filled my veins. He just stood there, looking like he was trying to say something but couldn't find the words. Don’t tell me he wants to give me that crap—“Forgive me, Liana.” He wouldn’t even try that. He should be smarter than to spew such words.

First, he disappeared. Then he appeared again and pretended not to know who I was—which was fine with me, by the way. I didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

If he was thinking of apologizing or asking questions about the past, I was ready to shut him off. It was just a matter of days or weeks. Once I’ve done what the caller wants, I’ll leave—go somewhere far away with my daughter, and I won’t have to see his face ever again.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low. “You almost—”

“I’m fine,” I replied coldly, not wanting to entertain any conversation with him. I walked past him toward the house.

“You shouldn’t be so cold to your saviour,” I heard his voice behind me.

Saviour? I scoffed.

My eye twitched at his words. I slowly turned to face him. "Saviour?" I took a step closer. "Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Cross." I almost added asshole instead of Mr. Cross, but decided to hold back—my self-control would need to last a few more days.

“And don’t talk to me like that again. Ever. Especially not alone.” His face said it all. The urge to ask how it felt to be hated by the girl he once loved. Correction: he never loved me. It was all a game to him.

I turned on my heel and headed inside. Helen saw me right away and hurried down the stairs.

“Liana.” She pulled me into a gentle hug. There was something about her that reminded me of Mom. The other night, when I strangled Penelope, Helen came to me first—asking if I was okay instead of yelling at me or checking on Penelope. What a sweet woman. And to think her son was nothing like her.

“How are you? Raymond told me everything,” she said.

Told her everything? Of course he did. The mental story he made up in case I didn’t stick to his script. I had no choice but to play along. I nodded.

"Have you eaten lunch?" she asked, her brows wrinkling. She was genuinely worried, and I was moved—just a bit. It had been a long time since someone asked me that question with genuine intentions.

Before I could reply, Aria stepped in—the lady who was always with Logan, technically his caregiver, though they didn’t call her that; they preferred to call her his companion.

"Mr. Grey requests to see her as soon as she arrives," Aria said to Helen.

"Right. Will you see him first or eat lunch first?" Helen asked. He was probably going to ask why I didn’t tell him I had a daughter. I needed to deal with him first. My morning was already ruined before I stepped into the house, but now it would be completely ruined as soon as I saw that smug face.

"I’ll see him first," I said with a smile, making a big effort to make it seem genuine.

"Okay, Aria, take her to the poolside," Helen said.

"Please, come with me, ma’am." Aria led the way, and I followed her outside.

I stepped outside, and the smell of nature enveloped me—tall trees with leaves so green. I walked slowly, inhaling deeply, taking my time to soak in the calm atmosphere. But the calm turned eerie when I saw that face—those gray eyes staring like they wanted to burn a hole through me. If Keith was regret dressed in a suit, then Logan was ego dressed in one. I was fifty percent sure his own ego was what left half his body paralyzed. I sighed and moved closer.

“I’ll bring refreshments,” Aria said.

“That won’t be needed. This won’t take long.” I still had a long day ahead. I was going to pick my wedding dress today, and my “fiancé” wouldn’t come with me because he had important things to attend to, so his mom would come instead. I knew that wasn’t the real reason—the truth was he couldn’t stand spending a second with me. He despised me that much. Glad the feeling was mutual.

Aria nodded and left.

“What do you want?” I asked. One of his brows shot up like he couldn’t believe I just said that.

“You seem better now, judging by your sharp tongue. Take a seat.” There was a chair across from him, but I didn’t want to sit. I didn’t answer, just stayed standing. His eyes left the pool and landed back on me. His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smirk or a smile. Then he looked away again, back to the pool.

“I got your father’s message, but you know I won’t buy that story. Tell me what really happened the other night.”

“My father already explained it. If you don’t believe him, what I say won’t change your mind.”

“I’ll decide that.” His eyes locked on me, and I swallowed the unease rising in my throat. He’ll decide that?

“Think what you want, Mr. Grey. I’m not saying another word. If you’ll excuse me, I have a wedding to prepare for.” I turned on my heel to leave.

“Do you really have a daughter?” he asked. I stopped and faced him.

“Think before you answer. A contract binds us together, and no secrets are allowed. If you read it, you’d know.” I sighed. No secrets? I skimmed the whole thing—I probably missed that part.

“Do you have a daughter?” His eyes stayed on mine, not backing down like he was trying to see if I was lying. I broke eye contact. I was a bad liar, and he’d know if I lied to his face.

“I don’t have a daughter,” I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, I looked back at him.

“That better be the truth. If it’s not…” He didn’t finish, but I knew what he meant.

“It is,” I said and walked back into the house without another word.

Inside, Helen was waiting with a big smile, holding a jar in her hands.

“Before we start the wedding dress hunt—not really a hunt since they’re custom-made,” she paused, noticing I wasn’t smiling back. “Anyway, I know you must be going through a lot, so I want you to have this.” She handed me the jar.

“When I was going through the worst time in my life, my grandma gave me one of these. You write down the good things that happen and put the notes inside. Write a letter every time something good happens. It helped me get through.” She gave my shoulder a gentle pat.

“Thanks,” I said with a smile, like I actually planned to use it. But honestly, the only thing that would help me get through all this was seeing my daughter. This jar would probably just sit on my coffee table forever.