Page 20 of Corrupted Empire

“I hope you’re not too busy to have men out looking for Clara,” I say, voicing my thoughts to the camera. “Whatever has gone on between us, Clara doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this.”

The light blinks. Harry reaches over and grabs my little finger.

“Momma,” he says. “Pancake.”

He hands me an imaginary pancake, and I take it from him, pretending to chew enthusiastically.

“Thank you, Harry. It’s delicious.”

When we lived in the mansion, Harry used to love watching the chef, Victoria, cook. He clearly doesn’t understand that one doesn’t make pancakes with a rolling pin, but it’s cute.

Harry giggles and rolls out some more pancakes.

I look back up at the camera, and I swear I can feel our eyes connect through all the lenses and wires and screens. Gabriel is out there somewhere.

Maybe that’s silly. But so is the fact that I’m still chewing on an imaginary pancake.

“I didn’t know what the Cartel was holding over you,” I say. “If I knew that writing that article would cost you your freedom, I would have never done it. How can you hate me for something I had no knowledge of?”

I swing my legs to the floor, keeping my eyes on the camera the whole time. “If you’d—”

“Momma,” Harry cuts me off, pulling my pant leg.

I look down, and he stabs the wooden spoon in my direction.

“Try,” he demands.

“You’re just like your father,” I mutter under my breath, taking the spoon from him. I pretend to sip whatever it is he’s pretending to cook, and I smile wide. “Tastes delicious, baby. Maybe a little more salt?”

I hand the spoon back, and Harry goes right back to stirring, his tongue stuck to the side of his mouth in concentration.

My eyes meet Gabriel’s through the camera again. At least, I think they do.

I get up, walking toward it. “If you’d confided in me like I asked you to, none of this would have happened. You could have told me about the Cartel and what they were holding over you, and we could have done something about it together.”

Tears prick at my eyes, and I grit my teeth to keep my lips from pulling into a pathetic frown. It’s the baby hormones, I reason. Just the baby hormones.

But don’t I have more than enough to cry about right now without the baby hormones? I’m locked in a tower for my own safety because there are people out there who want to kill my son and me. The man I love hates my guts. My best friend is missing, possibly dead.

The first tear spills down my cheek, and now it’s raining inside as well. I sniff and glare at the camera, my hand coming to rest over my belly and the barely perceptible bump instinctively.

“I need your help, Gabriel. Clara is in danger, and you are the only one who can help her right now. So please, help me. You owe me that much at least.” I set my jaw. “Do you want to be the one to explain to Harry and our unborn baby what happened to Mommy’s best friend? You do remember that we’re having a baby, right? Because I’ve heard nothing from you about it. Not a peep. It’s like you don’t want to acknowledge it for some reason, like you’re—” I hiccup, fighting back sobs. “Like you’re planning to deny the poor thing’s existence.”

I break down at that—at the thought of our baby growing up without its father’s love. Is he planning on leaving Harry behind too? Are we all to be discarded like yesterday’s trash because of that article?

I feel a shift in the air and glance behind me. My sobs have drawn the attention of the guards, who now stand in the doorway, watching me. Heat climbs up my cheeks, and I turn away from the camera in embarrassment. I scoop Harry up into my arms and storm away to my bedroom, which is the only place besides the bathroom that I get to be alone in this joint.

“Dinner,” Harry says sadly.

I have just ruined his meal, which no doubt would have been a culinary experience fit for a king, but I need a cuddle with my baby. Harry seems to sense this and doesn’t fuss too much as I settle down onto the bed, wrapping the comforter around my shoulders and bundling him against my chest with my laptop open in front of me.

I know I should do some work, but I feel like rubbing a little salt in my wounds, so I open YouTube and find one of our family interviews instead. It’s the first one we ever did together. Gabriel made it seem like we were going to enjoy a nice family lunch together.

And then a camera crew showed up.

I remember being so angry with him for ruining what had been, up until that point, such a pleasant afternoon. You can’t tell in the interview though. All the camera picks up is two people in love with each other and the baby they both adore. The perfect little family.

Gabriel’s handsome face grins at me from the screen. I miss the way his wavy black hair, which curled around the bottom of his chin, seemed to absorb the light from the room. I miss the dimple in his left cheek that only came out when he smiled. I miss the dark swirl of his irises, and the barely noticeable crook in his otherwise long, straight nose.

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