CHAPTER ONE
KEIR
My ex-wife, Kinsley, has leached away everything that I care about. Ever since she had the nerve to show up unannounced, she has wrecked my entire life. And this is her final poisoned gift.
Kinsley has applied for a divorce on the grounds that I am cheating on her. She also included a handwritten note saying that she has evidence of my affair with Ella. The truth is that Kinsley and I were living apart for two years before I ever met Ella.
But in order to tell the court that, I will have to admit that I’m a liar. That I chose to let the public believe that my marriage was intact.
Balling up the court summons in my fist, I rip it to pieces. “Fuck!”
The absolute brass pair of balls on Kinsley… I’m so angry, I’m trembling, radiating violent energy. I feel like an atom bomb seconds before it explodes.
Kinsley claims that she will take my daughter, Isla, even though she hasn’t seen her for years on end. Not only that, but Kinsley claims to have video evidence of my fling with the innocent, kindhearted former ballerina Ella. Though there is no law prohibiting me from having an affair with someone as young as Ella, not even my child's nanny, Kinsley knows the press will devour me if they find out.
I’ll be a ruined man.
And the worst thing of all was when I had to tell Ella to go back to the States. I had to look her in the eyes and tell her that she should leave Isla and I all alone. The look on Ella’s pretty, expressive face will haunt my dreams for years to come. The slight quivering of her lips, the tightening around her eyes.
Even as I said the words, I knew I would regret them. Maybe forever.
At that moment, I knew that I was half in love with the girl that I was asking to leave.
I wake up still thinking about my call with Kinsley.
Not that I think she’ll really be able to take Isla away from me. But now, thanks to my stupidity, she definitely has enough money to put up a hell of a fight.
Fuck.
Why did I ever fool myself into thinking my ex would go away quietly? All the years I’ve spent dealing with her should have taught me better than that. I guess even a jaded cynic like me can get caught up in wishful thinking sometimes.
I scrub a hand down my face as I roll out of bed. My mind immediately goes to Ella and how everything will feel at least a little better as soon as I can hold her in my arms.
Except I can’t hold her.
Thanks to Kinsley, I probably won’t ever be able to even talk to Ella again without worrying about someone taking a photo of us or using my feelings for her against me.
I look over at the clock on my bedside table. She’s probably already gone, but I want to see for myself. There are a million reasons why I can’t ask her to stay. I know better than to be seen leaving the apartment with her again, but maybe I can at least say goodbye one last time.
"Why am I torturing myself like this?" I ask in my empty bedroom. I throw on a shirt and some dark slacks, then grab my phone off the nightstand.
Ella probably hates me after last night. I can’t blame her. I still regret sending her away like that, but what else was I supposed to do?
The uncertainty is still eating me alive.
Every mistake I make with Ella just gives Kinsley more ammunition to use against me. On her own, I don’t think she has a very good case for custody of our daughter. But the longer my name stays in the headlines, the better she looks in comparison.
I’ve barely taken a step out of my bedroom when I see her door swing open at the opposite end of the hallway. She freezes in place as I move toward her.
"Ella, I’m sorry about last night." Now that I’m closer, I can see her eyes are red and puffy. "I don’t want us to part on bad terms," I say, my heart hurting as I reach out to her.
She dodges my touch, then bats my hand away. "Please just leave me alone. I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to play right now, but you’ve already made this hard enough for me."
I deserve this brush-off, of course, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept.
"This isn’t what I wanted," I say, still holding my phone with one hand while I shove the other one into my pocket to keep from reaching out for her again. "I never wanted to upset you. Ever."
I’ve prepared myself for the anger I can see in her eyes, but it’s mixed with a raw, fresh pain that I honestly didn’t anticipate. Seeing that pain up close and hearing it in her voice cuts me to the core.
"Please move out of my way," she says, using her suitcase as a shield to get past me in the narrow hallway. "You’re the one who told me to leave without any warning. This is all happening because of you." She huffs out an irritated breath when I don’t immediately step aside. "What do you want, Keir? We’re done. You said it yourself. You obviously don’t care about me or my feelings, so why are you pretending right now?"
Anger bubbles to the surface. not at Ella, but at the whole situation. Kinsley really fucked up my whole damn life. I open my mouth to try to express my thoughts, but my phone buzzes in my hand before I can answer. It buzzes two more times as I start to shove it into my pocket. Mostly out of reflex, I look down at the screen.
"Oh, shit." My breath catches as I skim the incoming texts. Each one is from a different person, mostly journalists sniffing around for a scoop. Unfortunately, all the texts match the news headline that’s scrolling across the top of my screen.
Wendy Alan, a reporter, was killed in an apparent hit-and-run. Authorities haven’t named a suspect at this time. Authorities want to question billionaire newspaper magnate Keiran Grayrose.
My mind is racing.
What are the odds that Wendy Alan and her partner Max just happened to die in almost the exact same way?
It’s rare and tragic enough for someone to get run down by a car in broad daylight, but for it to happen twice? in two related incidents within such a short amount of time?
No.
This isn’t a coincidence. It isn’t just a tragic accident. I’d bet half my fortune that whoever killed Wendy is the same person who murdered Max.
My phone is still vibrating with incoming texts, but I don’t have time to read or reply to any of them right now. Ella pushes past me while I am distracted by the news, her footsteps echoing in the grand entry room. I can already hear the elevator doors opening in the foyer from where I’m standing.
"Ella, wait!" I call out, running toward the front of the apartment. "Don’t leave yet! You need—"
"Too late," she answers from the elevator. She’s watching me and shaking her head, one hand still clinging tightly to her suitcase as I hurry to catch the door. "I’m leaving because of you, Keir. We're finished, just like you said."
The elevator door closes right in front of me as I slide across the marble tile.
"Damn it all." I bang my fist on the closed door, but it’s too late.
I want to talk to her, to at least make her understand that I’m not the cold-hearted asshole she thinks I am. But now I have another reason to delay her trip to the airport. A real reason
With so much going on at once, my brain has been struggling to make sense of Wendy’s death. Now, standing here alone in my quiet penthouse, the pieces are finally starting to fall into place.