Page 51 of Shattered Reign

“Any preference?” Easton asked as he scrolled through the endless list of movies and shows.

I shrugged. “Feel free to surprise me.”

He selected an action movie, which was fine by me. We spent the rest of our afternoon wrapped up in each other’s arms, dozing on and off as the movie played in the background.

28

BIANCA

Iwas curled up in the corner of my couch in my apartment, my gaze stuck on my window as light snow fell from the sky. It set an eerie tone for the day ahead. I was thankful to be able to sit underneath this cozy blanket in my warm apartment with the cold, dreary weather outside. But what I was doing was procrastinating about the call I needed to make.

I picked up the sleek phone that Tristan had given me ahead of my trip to Italy from the coffee table. My fingers traced the cool, smooth surface as I found his number and waited for the phone to connect our call.

I heard it ring a few times before Tristan picked up. “Hello, Bianca,” he said. His voice immediately made me think of how we’d almost gotten engaged until I decided to take charge. “What can I do for you?”

“Hey,” I replied. “I wanted to thank you for everything.”

“Thank me?”

“Yes. The private plane to Naples, the money for my expenses, this phone that helped me vanish essentially and for telling Easton where I was.” Each instance brought a flush of warm memories, each more cherished than the last.

“It was the least I could do. Did you enjoy the trip?”

“Yes, it was incredible. I think it is something that I won’t ever forget. Oh, and I will return the phone to you when I’m back in New York City. And I can send you back the rest of the money I didn’t spend.”

Tristan waited a beat before he responded. “Don’t worry about the money. I’m not missing it. No rush on the phone either. You can take your time.”

“I appreciate it,” I said just before I cleared my throat. “I don’t want to take up too much more of your time, but before I let you go, I have a question I want to ask you.”

It was something that had been circling the back of my mind since the news about my father broke and I should take this as an opportunity to ask it.

“What is it?”

“Who sent the video of my father with the escort to you?”

There was a long pause on the other end, and it made me wonder if I should have asked the question at all. When Tristan finally replied, his voice was serious. “It was submitted anonymously, Bianca. We don’t know who sent the video in. Even if I did know, I wouldn’t be able to tell you because we keep our sources to ourselves.”

A chill ran down my spine at his words and I suddenly became colder than what any winter gust could bring. I swallowed hard. The weight of the situation was suddenly very real.

“Okay,” was all I could say. “Thank you once again, Tristan.”

The call ended, leaving me alone with my thoughts, but that was only for a moment because the knock on my door jerked me out of my thoughts. I hadn’t been expecting anyone with Easton spending time with his parents today, so who could it be?

A flash of Landon standing on the other side of the door flitted through my mind as I walked to the front door. But once I took a second to look out of the peephole, I realized that I was completely wrong, and it made sense why the front desk had let this person up without alerting me.

It was my mom. And the guilt and sadness in her eyes were unmistakable.

I wasn’t prepared for this.

With a deep breath, I yanked the door open and looked at the person standing on the other side. Before I could form a word, she took a step forward and wrapped her arms around me. It was something unexpected, and it knocked the air out of my lungs without squeezing me hard.

I could feel her body trembling against mine and I couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong. What had brought her here?

“I’m so sorry, Bianca,” she said in between sobbing into my shoulder. “I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done...for all the pain I’ve caused you.”

“Mom...” I whispered as my own eyes started to sting. I tried to hold back tears. A part of me wanted to push her away, to tell her it was too late for her to apologize, but another part craved this connection we once had. Before my father entered politics. Before it changed our entire world. My hands hovered over her back, unsure of whether I wanted to reciprocate the hug or not.

“What are you doing here?” I finally said as I tried to swallow the emotion in my voice. At the sound of my question, she pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face searching mine for any sign of forgiveness.

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