Bee closed her eyes. Liar. She wanted to scream and sob the word out. Liar, liar, liar. But more than anything, she wished she could be stupid enough to still believe in him.
“Just wait for me to come home, and we’ll fix this.” He could feel her hurting, and his inability to do anything about it was driving him batshit. “I promise you, we’ll—”
“I really loved you, you know,” she whispered.
Nicholas whitened.
“I’m just so ashamed that I was so stupid and foolish—”
“Tabitha—”
“That I left you no choice but to pretend you cared—” Bee’s voice broke. “I’m just so sorry.”
The line went dead.
Daniel could feel his own face paling when he saw the way his father’s hand went limp, his phone slipping from his fingers and falling to the carpet with a heavy thud.
“Dad?”
Nicholas’ gaze was bleak as he turned to face his son. “She knows everything.”
Daniel’s blood went cold. “What do you mean—”
“Just fucking that,” Nicholas said tonelessly. “She knows everything—” Memories of Tabitha’s last words lashed his mind, and he bit back an agonized groan.
I really loved you, you know.
I’m just so ashamed.
I’m just so sorry.
“Dad.” Daniel’s voice broke through the torment of Nicholas’ thoughts. “I’m going to call Thomas. I’ll make sure he doesn’t let mitria leave until we talk things out and make things right…”
But when they finally made it back to the ranch, it was to find out that they were too late.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the older man said heavily. “But she was already long gone when you called.”
Chapter 13
A pair of bouncers dragged a drunk and wildly struggling Horace out of the bar, and his back landed on the pavement with a heavy thud as the men let go unceremoniously.
Horace opened his eyes and saw the people waiting in line to get in taking photos of him as they whispered among themselves in between snickers of derision.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Horace yelled as he clumsily pushed himself off the ground just to sway alarmingly on his feet. “You fucking—”
Someone threw a used, greasy wrapper from a fastfood chain at him. “Go home, loser!”
Bitter humiliation turned Horace’s face beet red as the crowd’s jeering laughter made him feel like shrinking and wilting inside.
Stumbling away, Horace began the long, tiring walk of shame to get home, and with every step, his rage just kept burning and burning until he felt like he had literally turned himself into a walking time bomb.
It’s all that bitch’s fault, Horace thought viciously. Goddamn that bitch. His life was hell because of Tabitha Sandler, who no doubt fancied herself now as some rich hoity-toity gal just because she had the devil’s own luck getting married to a billionaire asshole from Texas.
God fucking damn.
Was that really Tabitha Sandler he was seeing?
He watched her head to the front desk, and his own feet lurched into movement. Closer and closer. Until he was near enough to hear her speak—
“Just for one person, yes,” he heard her say to the receptionist, and the voice was unmistakable.
Goddamn bitch was back.