Page 3 of Corrupted Empire

Things were okay a month ago. I had bought a house for the three of us, one where we could be a family. Perhaps that was naive. Even though I’d destroyed the Irish, the Cartel were keeping me on a leash, forcing me to distribute purple heroin in the city, and I was desperate to be free of it. I knew it was going to come to a head eventually, but when it did, I wanted to be on my terms.

Alexis screwed it all up. She used information she’d gathered while living with me, while pretending to want to build a life with me, to expose the whole dirty operation. She may have offered the small mercy of not naming my criminal empire to the public, but her efforts were enough for the Cartel to make good on their threats and release their blackmail material.

She did this to me.I try to make myself hate her every day, and some days I even think I do.

Today is not one of those days.

Antonio pulls up across the street from their apartment. I look up to see the window to Alexis’ bedroom is lit up, golden light framing her head and shoulders in side profile. She is brushing her shoulder-length brown waves, probably getting ready to go to bed.

She looks beautiful. She always does.

She looked beautiful early in the morning, her eyelids heavy with sleep. She looked beautiful when she snapped at me, even as her words burned my skin. She looked beautiful with her hair splayed over my pillow, her naked body laid out below me like the most indulgent buffet.

Alexis never struggled with beauty. Loyalty, on the other hand? She sold me out the first chance she got, probably making a shiny mint for herself in the process. Not that I should have been surprised—only a couple months prior to that, she’d made a run for it with our child.

So, though I watch Alexis for a long time, I keep my distance. And I will continue keeping my distance. She is beautiful but deadly, like foxglove, with its pink, bell-shaped flowers and the heart-stopping poison hidden within them.

When we finally drive back to the mansion, I tell myself that this has to be the last time.

The only reason I have allowed Alexis to stay in this city is for Harry’s sake. I must remember that.

I won’t let myself care for her again.

2

Alexis

Clara Fitzgerald is my best friend, and I might just murder her.

“Alexis, come on,” Clara urges from the doorway, tapping her toe against the tile. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

I heave a sigh and ignore her impatient tone. This box is heavy, and I may only be one month pregnant, but I am pregnant nonetheless, and that means she can just wait. I try not to be too annoyed—we’re working for a good cause after all, and honestly, it’s nice just to see Clara back to her old self.

One month ago, the blonde with the bright emerald eyes glaring at me from the door of the rehabilitation center was a different person. Her curls were limp, her pale skin waxy. She has always been petite and thin, but her bones jutted through papery skin, and she looked like she might collapse into a pile of dust at any moment.

She’s still a little too skinny, but I’ve been monitoring her recovery, and she has exceeded all expectations so far. No purple heroin, no alcohol, nothing. She’s teetotal and all the better for it. Most people would rest for a little while after the kind of traumatic experiences Clara has overcome in the past six months, but not Clara. She’s back on her feet and anxious to help those still struggling.

I reach the doors, and Clara takes the box from me. “There are two more in the car,” she says, and disappears into the hall.

The second I turn, I note a shadow melting into the scenery out of the corner of my eye. There’s a black car with tinted windows hanging out across the street as well. These days, I am never alone. They try not to be too obvious, but my guards certainly don’t hide. I know they’re hanging around to ensure my safety, but I’d wager that part of it is to make sure I feel Gabriel’s presence all day, every day. The guards are a reminder that although I am living my life outside of his sphere of influence, my freedom is merely on loan.

I grab the next box from the car and heave it up the stairs. This one is heavier. It’s the one with all the canned goods in it. I have to adjust my grip a couple times, but I get it up the stairs just as Clara reappears to take it.

“I’ll meet you inside?” she says.

I nod, catching my breath, and head back to the car for the last box. I’m warm now, despite the chilly fall air. The leaves down this street have already all jumped ship from their respective trees, and the branches look bare and skeletal. I am already looking forward to Christmas, and it feels strange to have something normal to look forward to. I miss Gabriel every single day, but I’ve also missed my life having even a semblance of normalcy. I feel more like myself than I have in months.

Even with the around-the-clock security detail. In fact, with everything I’ve been through, I feel a lot safer having them around.

I grab the last box and go to find Clara in the kitchen. She is unloading groceries onto the stainless steel counter, arranging the boxes and cans by food type, brows knit in concentration.

“I think I’m going to make chili tonight,” she says. “I’ll need to go back to the store and grab a load of ground beef.”

“Joey will lose his mind,” I reply, unpacking my box onto the counter.

We have spent most of the morning running around collecting donations from various stores. There’s enough food here to feed the rehab’s residents for at least a week. Joey is one of the residents, not even old enough to drink yet, but in possession of a pernicious heroin habit. He has a bit of a crush on Clara and always raves about her cooking, especially when she makes chili.

“All the more reason to make it,” Clara says with a bright smile. “Will you come with me to the store when we’re done here?”

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