Page 1 of The First Cut
Prologue
Lola
Istare out the window at our small backyard and blink back tears. As I place the last dish on the drying rack, I grab the kitchen towel and wipe my eyes, quickly hiding my feelings with a fake smile.
I glance at my reflection in the windowpane and nod. Everyone will buy it—they always do. I’ve mastered the art of faking it, which shouldn’t be surprising. I’ve been doing it since I was eleven and caught my father with another woman.
My father’s threats of what he’d do to my mother if I ever told her bought my silence and fake smiles for years. He tried to smooth it over by showering me with expensive gifts, but that only made me feel dirty and even more like a traitor than I was by keeping quiet. But everywhere I went people gushed about how lucky and spoiled I was, especially my friends. I hated every second of it, but I bit my tongue until it bled and smiled until my cheeks ached.
It wasn’t until I turned sixteen that everything came crashing down.
A drunk driver killed my dad-–the drunk driver being my dad himself. His pregnant mistress died right next to him. When the cops showed up to tell us—not just about his death, but his affair—I realized my mom had known all along.
I don’t remember much else of what they said—my thoughts were tangled up in a mess.
After they left, I broached the subject while she made us tea.
“Of course I knew. A woman always knows. Plus, I hired a private detective to follow him around to collect evidence in case he ever tried to divorce me.”
I stare at her, my mouth hanging open in shock. “He blackmailed me. He told me he’d cut your brakes or?—”
“He knew there was an infidelity clause in the prenup,” she says, lifting her teacup to her lips to take a sip.
I feel sick to my stomach. “But if you knew what he did, then why’d you stay?”
What I don’t ask is why did she stay and make me live in this house with a man I hated.
“Do you think the other women in my circle aren’t dealing with the same thing? Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the price we wives pay for marrying rich. We lay by the pool and shop on 5th Avenue with smiles on our faces, wearing diamonds purchased with guilt money. As long as the mistress keeps her legs open, we wives keep our mouths shut to avoid gossip and scandal. In this world, reputation is everything. So what if my husband has a toy to play with? I’m the wife, that’s all that matters. Becoming vocal about where they put their dicks and making demands, is when they start flaunting their side piece in public, showing off the younger model in the country club like she’s an accessory. It’s pathetic. Everything we built would be reduced to tatters for other people’s amusements.”
“Dirty secrets don’t stay secret for long when they end up pregnant.” I snap.
“A baby is an easy fix.”
I don’t even try to hide my look of disgust from her.
“I guess that’s the difference between us. I’d rather be alone and happy than live a life where everything was fake, including the love you’re supposed to have for each other. The first time a man cheated on me would also be his last.”
The fact that she was never financially dependent on him, and in a position to leave at any time somehow makes it all worse.
“Ah, the naivety of youth. You don’t get it now, Lola, but you will one day. You’ll make choices that you never thought you’d have to, and the only thing that will get you through is your conviction to do so. You have to pick what you can and can’t live without. I can’t live without money and power, and I’m not ashamed to admit that. It’s what makes the world go round after all.
I take a deep breath and watch as she takes another sip of her tea, the smell of whisky and lemon permeating the air. Spiked tea at ten am? I don’t think she was unaffected, as she was trying to make out.
The phone ringing snaps me out of my walk down memory lane, which is probably for the best. I try not to think about my mother much these days.
It’s been years since I last saw her. She disowned me when I refused to give up Havoc—back when he was just Jonas, the first and only boy I ever loved.
When the phone stops ringing, I hear Havoc revving the bike he’s working on.
A few months ago, I would’ve sat on the deck steps just to watch him. I didn’t know a thing about bikes, so I couldn’t help, but being around him always calmed something inside me. I was grateful for that.
As much as Havoc loved the club, I didn’t. I always ended up a nervous wreck when we were summoned to the clubhouse.
I wanted to like it. Lord knows I’ve tried everything to fit in. I changed the way I dressed to look the part. And when a few comments were made, I even had my boobs done. I tried to be everything Havoc needed me to be. But in the process, I lost myself a little more each day.
And after finding out this morning I’m pregnant, I suddenly have this inexplicable urge to run. Every instinct I have is telling me to take my baby and leave. But how do I walk away from the man I’ve loved since the moment I was old enough to understand what love was?
I jump when the phone rings again. Cupping my still-flat stomach, I walk toward the noise, finding Havoc’s phone on the arm of the couch. I pick it up and my stomach drops when I see it’s Khan, the president of Havoc’s club. He’s never done anything to me, but he’s always rubbed me the wrong way.
