Page 32 of Toxic

When Niall picks up Fiona, and Shamus hugs Sean, I force myself not to pull them away, but all I want is for them to get their hands off my children.

It feels like time stands still until I shuffle my kids through the door. The rain once again pounds down on us. We travel in silence to the private airport. It's not far, and it's dark by the time we board my father's plane. When we take off, I stare out the window in the direction of the home Sean and I shared. It's the only home my children have ever known. It's the one Sean and his brothers remodeled and surprised me with when I was pregnant with Sean Jr. It's the one my kids spent all their birthdays and holidays inside. But it's also the one Niall and Shamus demanded I put on the market to sell tomorrow.

The lights of Chicago blink below us. Even through the rain, it's beautiful. I've seen it a lot due to all the trips Sean and I took to New York.

The first time I ever flew into Chicago, I felt the life and hope that this was my destiny. I was only eighteen years old, but something about the first moment I saw it made me feel like I was where I was supposed to be, as if I had found a new home.

Now, only agony spreads through my veins. Sean is gone, but taking his family and Chicago away make it seem rawer, somehow more permanent.

Fiona curls up in my lap and falls asleep. Sean Jr. is on my brother, Aidan's, lap, staring at me. He's a replication of his father, minus the twinkle in his eyes or silly grin on his lips. Tonight, emptiness resides in his eyes, and it resonates with how I feel.

When we get to New York, the kids share my bed. Once they're asleep, I can no longer hold everything in. I allow my silent tears to fall again, drenching my pillowcase.

The following day, I shut the door to my father's office, pushing through the disgust swirling around me. "I need you to get my house on the market today."

His eyes widen. "Why would you—"

"It's not safe in Chicago anymore for the kids or me. I need the house on the market today. Are you going to help me or not?"

Dad tilts his head, and my insides quiver harder. He's not used to me talking to him in such a harsh manner. He asks, "What do you know about what happened, Bridget?"

The lump grows in my throat, cutting off my airway. I square my shoulders. "Nothing. Sean kept his business away from me, but he said if anything ever happened to him to come to New York with the kids to be under your protection."

My father shifts on his feet. "When did he say this?"

"The night he went missing. Forget I said anything. I'll figure it out myself." I turn to leave.

"Bridget, stop."

I freeze but don't turn around.

"Of course I'll help you."

"Today. I need it on the market today. Promise me," I order.

"You're sure?"

"Yes." I leave the room, wanting to tell him everything and not to sell my home.

But I can't. These are the new rules.

Later that night, my father's butler comes into the main room. "Mr. Marino is in the den, requesting to see Ms. O'Connor. He said his plane just landed from Italy."

"Which one?" my father asks.

"Dante."

"Dante's here?" Sean Jr. asks, his lips trembling.

I close my eyes, not wanting to see anyone but unsure how to get around this when Sean is already running toward the door. Fiona follows him as well as my father.

When I get within eyesight of the den, Sean and Fiona are both sobbing in Dante's arms.

I stare at them through blurry tears. When Dante looks up and pins his dark gaze on mine, I only cry harder.

The thought to spill everything to Dante that happened is so powerful, it scares me.

So, I walk away and hide out in the sitting room, trying to drink whiskey, but my hand won't stop shaking. At some point, he finds me. I'm in a trance, staring out the window, trying to feel Sean's arms around me.

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