Page 87 of Pucking Secret

I look up, and my stomach drops. It’s her. The woman from the news article. Elise Richardson. Her perfectly styled hair and designer clothes are unmistakable. Her eyes widen as she takes me in.

“No… no, get away from me,” I snap bitterly, dodging past her. “I hope you and your fucking fiance have a happy life. Tell him I never want to see him again.”

“Wait!” Elise calls after me, but I ignore her and continue on to the stairwell. I don’t look back. I can’t. If I see that beautiful woman, the one who Owen has apparently always been planning to go back to this whole time, I’ll lose my absolute shit.

I need to get out of here, away from her, away from Owen, away from everything. Elise’s voice fades behind me as I burst into the stairwell, gasping for air like I’m suffocating.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: IN A HEARTBEAT

OWEN

“Fine, FINE! I’ll end it!”I snarl into the phone, fury burning through me. “You will never have to worry about Millie ruining anything!”

“I’m glad you’re seeing reason, son,” Gerald replies in a condescending tone.

Goddamnit, why do I have to deal with his bullshit now? I got home from dropping Stacey off and barely made it out of the shower when my phone rang the first time…though it wasn’t Gerald. It was Elise.

Thinking over it, I should have seen the warning signs the moment she called. What happened? Right…

“Hey, Elise” I cautiously say, picking up the phone “What’s up…?”

“Have you seen the news?” she asks in a tight voice. I can tell she’s trying to keep it together, but she’s barely holding on.

“What news?” I ask sharply, already heading to the living room to grab my tablet off the couch.

“Just… Google your name,” she instructs before hanging up.

I toss the phone down and open the tablet. My stomach drops as soon as the headline stares back at me:Is Weston Cheating on Richardson Before Their Wedding Day?

“What the actual hell?” I mutter. There are two photos with the article — one of me kissing Stacey at the Nashville game, and another of Elise and me at a charity event three years ago.

Oh, fuck. I should’ve seen this coming, but I’ve been so occupied with Stacey and Millie, that it didn’t even cross my mind that this would happen. Still, how is this such big news? It really doesn’t merit a front page story — it’s not like Elise and I are fucking royalty — so why’s it top featured on such a major Canadian news outlet?

Grinding my teeth, the answer is so obvious, I feel stupid I even wondered for a second. Gerald. It had to have been Gerald. No doubt he used his power and influence to push the story and make it more prominent. It’s highly possible he’s an investor in this outlet, though I can’t keep track of every business he has his hands in.

Grabbing my phone again, I call Gerald.

He picks up after the second ring, his voice smooth as ever. “Owen, to what do I owe this?—”

“Cut the crap, Gerald!” I snap, pacing the room. “Did you blow up this story about me supposedly cheating on Elise?”

There’s a pause before he replies in his condescending tone. “It’s not my fault people are so interested in scandals. If you hadn’t cheated on Elise so publicly…”

“I’m not marrying Elise!” I yell. “I never agreed to that, and I never will!”

“You’re forgetting who you are, Owen,” Gerald says, his voice dropping to something more menacing. “You’d do well toremember the privilege being part of the Weston family affords you. If you don’t play your part, there will be consequences.”

“Consequences?” I scoff, my voice laced with disbelief and fury. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

“Am I?” he says smoothly. “Think carefully. How would you like it if you never saw your daughter again?”

I freeze. Millie? He knows about Millie? The room spins as his words sink in. No…no, he couldn’t possibly… I only just found out, how does he?…

I picture my little girl, so sweet and innocent, with her big blue eyes and her mother’s wild red hair. My heart seizes in my chest. Gerald has always been cold and cruel, but to threaten a child — my child — is more vicious than I would have thought him capable.

A rush of protective instincts pour through me, as well as fury.

“How the fuck do you know about Millie?” I grind out, my grip tightening on the phone.

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