Ending with Forever (27 page)

C
arson and I have much to discuss in terms of baring our inconceivable lineage, but the opportunity keeps slipping from me. It’s already time for Andrew’s dinner party and I haven’t planted a small seed in his mind to prepare him for the tumultuous storm heading his way. He’s in the wine cellar selecting a few vintage bottles to bring with us. I use this free minute to call my mom again, but she doesn’t answer. She and I also have much to talk about as well. Where do I begin with either one of them? It’s not every day you discover you’re adopted or related to two of the wealthiest and most powerful families.

“Lil, are you ready?” Carson calls from the hallway about twenty minutes later.

“Yes,” I answer and then sneak a quick glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. Andrew told me semi-formal for tonight’s occasion. I chose a classic, sleeveless, black dress similar to that of Audrey Hepburn’s in
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
and paired it with a short strand of chunky pearls and black leather pumps with sexy ankle straps. My wavy, brown hair flows past my shoulders, but it doesn’t conceal my healing cuts and bruises like I hope. Troubled, I rush back into the closet to find something to cover them. An ivory fitted blazer screams at me to select it and it’s a perfect match.

“I thought you said yes?” Carson startles me in the closet from behind.

“My bruises don’t compliment my dress,” I reply sadly, draping the blazer over my forearm.

“I…didn’t mean to rush you, angel,” he apologizes with concern. I see a cloudy glint in his heavy eyes that reflects the lingering pain in his heart as they travel down the length of my discolored limbs. “Let me help you,” he offers, taking the blazer from my arm and holding it out for me. He kisses each visible bruise tenderly. “When these markings disappear so will the nightmares that haunt your nights,” he whispers into my ear.

“They’re not as bad as they look. I’m here with you and that’s all that matters. No more sad faces. Okay?” I scold gently, mimicking his gloomy expression and then replace it with my silly lopsided smiley face.

“Okay. No more sad faces,” he agrees, shaking his head at my ridiculous, toothy smile. “Ready to go, beautiful? You’re Andrew’s reason to party hard tonight. You better not be late.” I nod and he leads me down the hallway and into the elevator.

~~~~

“Hey, guys,” Andrew greets at the door with cheek to cheek kisses. “Come in. Guests are trickling in slowly. You’re right on time.” He winks at Carson, knowing how anal he is about punctuality.

“Hi, Andrew. Thanks for having this fabulous party for me. Are you expecting a lot of guests tonight?” I inquire as I appreciate his beautifully decorated place. It’s very modern; shabby-chic with plush sofas and chairs and solid, distressed wood tables. I see that he’s a fan of warm, earthy tones with accenting black and gray colors.

“You’re welcome, cutie. I’m expecting eighteen to twenty people,” he replies. “Can I get you two a drink?” he offers.

“Ah shit!” Carson grunts. “I forgot the wine.”

“It’s my fault. I distracted you.” I absorb the blame. “I’ll go back and get them,” I volunteer.

“No,” Carson objects. “You’re the guest of honor. I’m just your arm candy tonight. I’ll get them.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at his candy comment. It’s difficult to believe that he’s the same Carson Bradley I first met at the hospital. This man is much more approachable and likable.

“It’s really not necessary,” Andrew insists. “We have plenty here.”

“Carson took about twenty minutes to select the perfect choices for you, so let him indulge you and Stewart tonight,” I convince.

“Alright. You twisted both my arms,” Andrew surrenders with a chortle.

“I’ll be right back, babe,” Carson tells me and heads out the door. For the first time since we’ve met, he’s leaving me with easiness and a smile.

“Lillian, what’s the scoop? Does Carson know anything yet?” Andrew seizes our small window of opportunity to pry.

“No, not yet. I haven’t had a chance to…,”

“Hold that thought, Lil,” Andrew interrupts with the chime of a bell. “Someone’s here.”

Andrew runs to the door and opens it for Wes, Bridgette, Belle, and Hayden. I know they all didn’t drive here together. They must’ve run into each other in the elevator. It appears that black is the popular choice for this evening. Both the ladies are wearing sexy, figure-hugging dresses while the men are in charcoal suits. Their smiley greeting turns serious really quick as they hush each other to a whisper. I wonder what’s going on. Belle waves her arm at me as soon as her eyes locate my fretful face. I give her one of my come hither looks so she can fill me in. Instead of coming alone, she brings the huddle with her.

“Hey, Lily,” they all say in unison. They’re acting very strangely.

“Someone tell me what’s going on,” I urge. “I need the truth.”

“It’s kind of a morbidly good thing,” Belle answers.

“Okay. Then tell me already.”

Andrew reaches for a remote control to turn on the flat screen in the dining room. He surfs the channels until he finds FOX 25 News. Bianca makes Boston’s breaking news—no surprise there. Her gorgeous face is staring at me through the screen, threatening my life all over again. Most of the fear that I’ve been trying to bury this past week materializes in seconds from just one haunting look.

“Why am I watching this?” I complain. The clip is of her life and all her accomplishments. There’s even a picture of her with Carson.

“Lil, Bianca’s dead. She killed herself this afternoon,” Bridgette bares. “It’s been all over the headlines.”

My legs shake and buckle under me. I’m stunned and clouded from the news. I’m not sure if I want to cry because I’m happy she’s out of my life or because I feel empathy for her horrific ending. I can’t believe she’s really dead. To me, she doesn’t appear to be the suicidal type. It doesn’t make sense. Carson told me it was the only safe place for her to be…
from him
.
Could he have something to do with it? No. Don’t even think that.
In silence, I stand here with my friends and watch Bianca’s life unfold on the screen until it comes to her tragic conclusion. She wasn’t a cold-hearted demon according to the news. They portrayed her as a generous, kind, smart and fun loving woman who was ruined by a failed relationship. They never once mentioned her involvement with my kidnapping and attempted murder or Edison’s death.

Andrew turns off the TV and protests, “What a bunch of rubbish. We all know what she was really like. Thank God the world’s rid of her cruelty. Let’s party for real.”

“Woot! Woot!” Belle grabs my hand and lifts it toward the ceiling with hers. “Ding dong the witch is dead. The witch is dead,” Belle chants and sings. “Lil, she’s gone forever. She’ll never bother you and Carson again.”

“Yay,” I add softly. I can’t understand why I don’t have the desire to party and celebrate anymore. I feel nauseous and light headed.

“Lily, are you okay?” Hayden asks. “Your face is really pale.”

“I feel shaky,” I admit.

“Bring her to the sofa,” Stewart suggests from the kitchen. “I’ll bring her a cool towel.”

“I’m fine,” I insist, but they still force me to take a seat on the most comfortable sofa ever. My body sinks willingly into the down cushions and I just want to close my eyes to rest, to shut Bianca out.

“Here. Place this over your forehead,” Stewart offers me a cold compress.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. Isn’t this supposed to be a party? Stop fussing over me.”

Until those damn scars and bruises on Lil’s body fade away for good, they’ll be a constant reminder for me of what my covetous position of wealth is capable of imposing on the people I love. Recently, it was the greedy Charles Montgomery and an ex-lover. Who knows what the future will hold for us? I still have many rivals who are anxious to take my place in the shark-eat-shark world of pharmaceutical drugs. My children will not be exempt from this kind of danger either. Is it time for me to hang up my hat and retire? I could dedicate the rest of my life to my wife and kids instead of fighting a disease that keeps reinventing itself and becoming more lethal with time. But is that what I want? Will I be content, allowing such a grotesque syndrome overpower innocent little children or adults and elderlies? I probably won’t be nor will Lillian allow me to be. We share the same passion—heal the world of sicknesses and suffering. My mind debates as I encounter my longest wait for an elevator.

~~~~

I can’t believe I left without the wine. Where’s my mind been lately? On Lil as always—that’s where. And now my damn phone is going off again. Why do people always call me at the most inopportune time? Reaching into my side pocket, I retrieve my phone to see that it’s Owen. He tells me he has the information I requested for Wesley Montgomery. Even though I have no time to spare, I ask him to give me a brief summary now and then email me the detailed report for later.

“Wes is Charles and Mimi Montgomery’s adopted son,” Owen tells me. I already know this information from my own Google search.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I snip impatiently, being a smartass dick again. “I’m sorry, Owen. Go on,” I insist more politely.

“His birth parents are Francine and Jacob Hanover. Mr. Hanover died two months after his sons were born.”

“Did you say sons?” I confirm.

“Yes. Wes is a twin. I don’t have any information on his brother’s whereabouts, but I’m sure I could get it for you if you need it.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I mutter, taken aback, recalling the similarities of our appearance, voice, and maybe even our thoughts like those nightmares of Lil. My hands quiver slightly. I clench my fist and jaw to slow the panic coursing through my body. Everything I thought I knew is now uncertain. I don’t want Owen to confirm my speculation. I’m a Bradley. My parents are Katherine and Michael Bradley. I was born in Chicago at Rush Hospital.

“Are you okay, sir?” he inquires, picking up on my change in tone.

“Yeah,” I reply. This can’t be true. I know who I am. It has to be coincidental.

“There’s one more thing. Francine Hanover is now Francine Manns,” he adds. “She’s the same woman Miss Ly is pushing for us to help.” Shit. So that’s why Wes and Bridgette were at the hospital today. They must’ve told Lil everything. According to Luke, the three of them had a very long discussion. Then why didn’t she say anything to me? This dying woman could be my biological mother.

“I better get going, Owen. I’m running late for Andrew’s party. Thanks for the information.” I rush him off to give my brain space and time to put my shattered world back together.

I need a goddamn drink. It’s the only thing that can take the edge off my frayed nerves and mask my new found agony. In a hurry, I tip the bourbon decanter and overfill the crystal glass in my shaky hand, spilling the dark amber liquid onto the contrasting white carpet. Ignoring the speckled stain around my feet, I slam the liquor down my throat—all of it. Fuck! I’ve forgotten how hot this shit is. My chest feels like a burning oven with irrepressible flames, fighting to escape. I settle back into Luke’s chair, Lil’s name for it since it’s the location he sits in every day, and glare out to the familiar horizon of buildings and lights.

The impenetrable barrier I’ve created around my heart had served its purpose for the past fifteen years until now. Lillian is its new owner and when our babies are born, it’ll be divvied equally among all the people I love, including my parents. Will I be hurt and angry if I discover they’d been lying to me? Sure. Who wouldn’t be? But does that change what they are to me or how much we love each other? It doesn’t. I’m beyond the age where it would affect me emotionally or scar me. I understand and respect people’s decision to adopt, but how can anyone give up their babies? That would be my source of pain—rejection. That’s what Lil’s been struggling with all her life—the misunderstanding that her father doesn’t love her and her mother. We make quite a pair, Lil and me and all our hidden baggage. We have much to get out in the open before next week when we’ll be married on the private island of Sidena. Damn it. The numbing effect from the first drink has already worn off. I need another one. One becomes two and two becomes three. Before you know it, I polished off the entire decanter and knock myself out cold.

I
have no idea what happened to Carson. He left about forty-five minutes ago to grab the wine he forgot and hasn’t returned. He won’t answer his phone or reply to any of my texts. I hate to be rude by leaving a party that Andrew and Stewart have worked so hard to put together for me, but I’m really concerned. Everyone’s here now, including his parents.

“Lillian, has Carson called back?” Kat asks for the second time.

“No, and I’m getting a little antsy about it. I might have to go check on him soon.”

“Maybe he’s caught up with a work emergency or something,” she excuses. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s a big boy,” she kids, patting my shoulder.

“You’re probably right. I’m getting kind of tired myself. I might just head out early.” Bianca’s death news has wreaked havoc on my gut. I haven’t been able to eat a darn thing even though Andrew’s fruit and veggie spread looked and smelled delectable.

“Alright, dear. Have a good evening and give Carson my regards when you see him.”

“I will,” I tell Kat and apologize to Andrew and Stewart for ditching my party so early and for Carson’s disappearance. Of course, I offer them a lame excuse for him, telling them he probably had some kind of a work emergency like Kat suggested. They nod their heads understandingly and hug me graciously. How can I not love these two fantastic men? They even packed a to-go bag for Carson. The rest of the gang dubs my missing partner and me Mr. and Mrs. Party Killer as I tell them goodbye.

~~~~

The wine bottles are on the floor by the entrance when I walk through the front door. I find Carson passed out, on Luke’s chair of all places. He reeks of alcohol—badly. I’m pissed and disappointed because this isn’t the excuse I had in mind. “Carson,” I snap while tapping on his shoulder. “What happened to you?” His body squirms but he doesn’t respond. “Hey, wake up,” I raise my angry voice at him.
Did he hear about Bianca’s suicide and drank his grief or guilt away?

“Uh…,” he groans, placing a hand over his mouth. He looks like he’s about to vomit. His face is ashen as his shoulders jerk forward repeatedly while he wrestles the sick sensation moving up and down his stomach.

I urge his body up to walk to the nearest bathroom around the corner. He’s a tall, sturdy man. I’m almost incapable of keeping him upright, but we make it there just in the nick of time. He hurls twice before he sits aside the toilet and continues to dry heave. For a change, he’s in the hot seat vomiting and not me.

“Better now?” I ask as I stroke my palm up and down his back.

He unbuttons his blazer and loosens his tie and tosses them aside. “Yes,” he answers, grabbing at his chest. “I’m sorry, babe,” he apologizes, appearing sincerely remorseful as his head turns sideways to look at me.

“Let’s talk after we clean you up,” I insist, setting aside my ruffled emotions.

He nods and rises onto his feet to follow me to the bedroom. I brace his shuddering body against the wall facing the shower and quickly undress him. He looks miserable. His eyes are sealed shut to steady his balance while his hands grip his head to control the spinning. “I ruined your evening,” he regrets and moans at the same time, reaching for my face blindly.

“No, you didn’t. I’m sure you have a good explanation,” I encourage, placing his hand down by his side. “We have all night to talk about it.”

Vomit and alcohol is probably the nastiest smell combination known to a pregnant woman. I gagged at least twice, inhaling a whiff of Carson’s dragon breath while cleaning him up in the shower. I give him one quick, cold rinse before making him step out. I need him to be alert so he won’t fall on the slick stone floor and take me down with him.

“Will you be fine while I find us something to wear?”

“Yeah. I’m going try to brush my teeth,” he tells me. I swear he can read my mind. Or did he notice my cringing expression in the shower?

As soon as he finished rinsing his mouth, I put him in a pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt and help him into bed. He appears to be in better condition propped up against the headboard with two pillows. “Better?” I ask again, placing a soothing hand on his as I sit down next to him.

“Much. Thanks, babe.” He leans into the side of my neck and places a soft kiss there. My skin tingles on contact while my irritation fades away slowly.

“No problem. It’s payback for all the times you’ve had to endure my sick spells.” I grin. “Stay put. I’m going to make you something that’ll help your nausea.” Carson is going to get a taste of Jean’s delicious tea so he can understand the torture I go through every morning.

I come back from the kitchen with a steaming cup of black tea. The spicy aroma of ginger, mint and who knows what other ingredients doesn’t bother me anymore. It’s impossible for me to hide the wicked smile on my face as I bring it up to his lips. “Be careful. It’s very hot,” I caution him. “Sip very slowly until your taste buds can get used to the bitterness.”

His handsome face cringes in disgust. “Do I have to?” he whines and plugs his nose with his index finger and thumb. With all my might, I force back my blooming smile.

“Uh…yes. It’ll help your nausea,” I encourage him.

He listens to me and takes his first sip. “It’s not as bad as it smells,” he tells me and continues to sip some more.

“Really?” I ask disappointedly. “I think it’s disgusting and thought you’d be more sympathetic for me after you drank it.”

“Lil, I’m ashamed of you, taking advantage of me while I’m down,” he scolds playfully. “I’d never do anything like that to you.”

“Cut the crap. Does it or doesn’t it taste gross?” I demand.

“It’s fucking awful. I don’t know how you can swallow this shit every morning,” he confesses, making me laugh hysterically.

“I knew it. You were faking it,” I accuse. “Now that we got that out of the way, can we discuss why you were drinking so heavily and missed an incredible party?” My tone turns serious. Carson doesn’t pull a stunt like this unless there’s a really good reason for it. He takes his responsibilities very seriously.

Running his fingers through his wet, wavy hair and exhaling a heavy sigh he agrees to tell me what happened. “I recently asked Owen to dig into Wesley Montgomery’s background because truthfully, I don’t trust him.” My heart skips a beat. I think I know where this is heading. “Owen called me as I was leaving for Andrew’s place.”

“And…what did he say?” I interrupt, asking impatiently.

“You seem rather anxious, Lil,” he tells me with suspicious eyes. “Didn’t you run into him and Bridgette yesterday?”

Oh great. Now it’s about me
.

“I did, but you were about to tell me what Owen discovered,” I remind him to stay on his path.

“He told me Wes has a twin brother and his mother is Francine Manns,” Carson rattles factually with no emotions while watching me carefully, waiting for my reaction. I’m immobile and speechless. What am I supposed to say or do? “Why didn’t you tell me, Lil?” He finally breaks down. His eyes fall disappointedly on top of our hands. He thinks that I’ve betrayed him by not telling him. My feelings are shattered.

“I…wanted to, but I…didn’t know how,” I trip over my words. “How do you tell someone they’re adopted when their life is perfect just the way it is?”

“I’m not just someone, Lil. I’m going to be your husband, the father of our babies. You should always be honest with me even if the truth is ugly.”

“Honest? Like the tracker you have on me,” I accuse, frowning at him. He brought this on himself. I wasn’t going to mention it, but he wants us to be honest.

“I had no choice. It was for your safety and thank God I did it or else you’d be…,” he pauses, not wanting to revisit that horrific possibility. “I’m sorry, but I don’t regret doing it,” he confesses.

“Where is it?” I ask.

He lifts my right arm up and looks at my wrist. It’s the silver bracelet he gave me. “Do you want to know what my nightmares were about?” he asks. I nod as my eyes lock on the shimmering reflection of the bangle. “You were trapped in a hole with no way out, ironically. I could hear you cry for help, but I couldn’t find or see you. Do you know how terrifying that was for me when it came true? Losing you is the one thing I can’t bear. I’d sacrifice thousands of lives to keep you safe with me. I’m not ashamed to admit that to you. I would’ve given them whatever they wanted if it came down to you or the drug.”

“Carson, I’m not angry with you. I’m grateful you love me so much. I’ll never take this bracelet off. I swear.” I fall into his chest and wrap my arms around his torso. “I’m alive because of you,” I whimper into his heart. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Wes. I was stunned with the news myself.”

“So it’s true. He’s my twin brother and Francine is my birth mother,” he confirms. He’s staggered like he just collided into a brick wall.

“Yes. I know why you have that scar on your left hip now. Francine told Wes you two were joined at birth by a thin layer of skin.”

“Did he tell you why she gave up her babies?” he pries, appearing wounded and bitter. I understand where he’s coming from. I’ve had the same kind of resentment for my father until Bridgette explained his circumstance.

“Your birth father died two months after you and Wes were born. Francine was left with debts, an enormous farm with no help or money. She wanted a better future for her sons,” I explain, hoping it’d ease his heavy heart.

“How’s she doing?” he mutters softly.

“I didn’t get to see her, but both Bridgette and Jane mentioned she’s in a lot of pain. Francine won’t ask for your help because she doesn’t want to ruin what you have with your parents. She’d rather suffer and die than take away your happiness.” My words hit him hard. His mind is trapped in piercing thoughts while his eyes fill with tears, but he doesn’t cry. In silence, I lay my head on his chest and listen to his shallow breathing, ready to offer him my support whenever he’s ready to share his heartache.

The rumbling in my head foiled my many attempts to fall asleep with Lil. How could I sleep after inheriting an entirely new family I never knew existed? I ended up in my office, reviewing Francine’s medical history even more thoroughly than the day before. It looks like I have Wes and two other grown siblings. She’s been battling with cancer for about eleven years, off and on, and is now at the end of her rope. I know what I must do, even though she won’t ask me for help. I’m indebted to her for giving me life and for giving me up for a better life. Indirectly, my success and happiness are the results of her noble sacrifice. Though I’ll always love my parents first, I won’t deny my birth mother her child’s affection, especially when her time with me is limited.

Around 1:00 a.m. I finally crawled back into bed and wrapped my body around Lil. My mind rattled off hundreds of drug names as I laid there figuring out which one would work best for Francine’s case. The only obvious choice for her is Oss-meta which hasn’t been tested on humans and hasn’t been legally approved for use. Her MRI scan showed severe bone depletion in her thoracic spine. An injection of Oss-meta directly into that area would encourage regrowth within two weeks. The destination wedding I have planned for Lil and me will have to be postponed.
Sacrifice equals love
, I remind myself.

After tossing and turning and disrupting Lil’s peaceful sleep for several hours, I gave up. The morning lights were barely visible outside our expansive bedroom windows when I left Lil in bed to go to BPC. I drove the Bugatti for the second time since Owen had it delivered to my penthouse. Traffic was pleasantly sparse as I cut through the lifting dusk. My laden mind was momentarily liberated as I enjoyed the rush of speeding. Why I don’t do this more often is such a shame. This should be a perk for the many years I’ve invested in the research and development of cancer drugs. I pulled the car into my reserved spot and hustled directly to the lab instead of my office. I have no intention of giving up until I figure out a solution for Francine and Gabriel. God is the only one who can cure them, but I will try my hardest to prolong their life until He decides either way.

I locked myself in the testing area until almost noon with Jean and my entire crew, going through all the experimental protocols and results. Admirably, David and Paul refused to take any time off, even after I firmly insisted. They wanted to contribute as much as they could to get the drug out sooner to the public. Every day that it sits in a lab instead of a pharmacy, countless people are dying. This knowledge is what drives us to persevere with our hearts. David picked up a vital piece of information from one of Montgomery’s lab researchers that allowed us to verify its efficacy on humans. This was the breakthrough I was hoping for. We all agreed unanimously that it would be safe to offer it to a few volunteers. I had two in mind already.

~~~~

“Mr. Bradley, your parents will meet you at Marietta at 1:45 p.m. as you’ve requested,” Evelyn confirms via the speakerphone in the lab. “Miss Ly also stopped by, but left as soon as I told her you were working in the research room.”

“Why didn’t you call me? Did she leave a message?” I ask, wondering why Lil would come by unannounced.

“She didn’t want me to interrupt you,” Evelyn explains.

“You should’ve anyway,” I snip. “In the future, always call me if it’s Miss Ly,” I instruct, hating the fact that Lil was in the same building and I didn’t get to see or touch her.