Page 72 of Malicious Wedding

Carson’s been an obsession-crazy person about me for years and years, and everyone’s afraid he’s finally lost his mind and I’m his prisoner.

Iain sounds exhausted as he speaks. “I know something about obsession, and I promise, it’s not a good thing. Obsession consumes a person, makes them do horrible things, turns them into animals.” He closes his eyes like he can barely keep himself awake. “I fucked up, Ash. I really fucked up. And the second I got shot is the second I let Carson get anywhere near you. If I kept it together, maybe—” He shakes his head. “But no, he would’ve found an excuse to get closer sooner or later. He’d been inching his way in for a long time now, ever since the blow-up with his parents. I might’ve slowed it. But I wouldn’t have stopped it.”

“I don’t understand. What’s going to happen to me? What’s he going to do to me?”

“I don’t know,” Iain admits, looking at me with pure fear in his eyes. I don’t remember ever seeing my big brother afraid. That hurts me more than anything. “But if I were you, I’d leave his hospital, go straight to the airport, and fly somewhere far, far away from Boston. Run fast, run far, and never look back.”

I let out a sharp sob. Fuck, how is this happening? How didn’t I see it sooner?

Carson’s been behind everything and my whole life’s a lie.

I thought I was keeping Smoke open because of my hard work, but now I can see all the little ways that it’s been Carson.

Parking tickets mysteriously disappeared. My accountant always magically found more money from the feds every year thanks to some random, obscure program I’d never heard of. The time I needed a loan to cover water damage, and how some tiny regional bank offered me everything I needed and more at an obscenely low rate, and how conveniently I qualified for a loan-forgiveness program only a month later.

That was all Carson.

I hustled. I worked hard. I struggled. But money always seemed to find me.

I thought I was lucky. I called it my angel.

But it’s been Carson this whole time, helping me from afar.

My entire life cracks like a punched mirror. All the good things are twisted now, everything soured. Smoke itself feels wrong—would it have gone out of business years ago if Carson weren’t making sure it didn’t? Would he have bailed me out again once he realized I was struggling to make my payroll?

Or was all of this his way of finally getting what he’s always wanted?

No, I can’t be that paranoid. He didn’t make Iain get that girl pregnant. He didn’t make the Polish family kill my father.

He only capitalized on the opportunity by making me think he was my only shot at survival.

“I have to go,” I say, feeling numb. “I’m so sorry, Iain, but I have to go.”

“Don’t talk to him,” he warns. “Please, Ash, just run away. Carson’s smarter than you realize. He’s manipulative in ways you don’t understand. If he wants to keep you, he will keep you, whether you like it or not. Your only chance is to get on a plane and run.”

I know he’s right. I’ve seen it. Carson’s clever and ruthless, and he knows exactly how to push my buttons.

He’s been doing it every second of every day since we got married.

Somehow, I went from hating him to looking forward to seeing him.

I fell, and I fell hard.

He made that happen.

Charming, obsessed Carson.

Now I see it all for what it’s really been. One long con. One terrifying game. All to get his final prize: me.

“I’ll check in on you again,” I say, turning to the door, stumbling a little over my feet. “I just have to go.”

“Forget about me, Ash, just run. Just run!”

I shove the door open and step into the hall. I stand alone as panic overwhelms me, my hands shaking. Carson’s been controlling me, pushing me closer and closer toward him, slowly finding ways to pull my levers and push my buttons, and I’ve been so blinded by him that I haven’t really seen through his charm.

Or maybe I have. There’s a reason I keep calling him a psycho.

Except I thought I liked it.

---