The Blind Box That Cost Me Everything Chapter 09

The Blind Box That Cost Me Everything Chapter 09

That same day.

Back in the city, everything blew up.

The police charged Bianca with felony forgery.

Ellison Group cut every financial tie to the Halstead family.

Every one of Bianca’s accounts was frozen.

The luxury postpartum retreat kicked her out.

The year’s supply of formula. The private car. The black credit card. Gone.

All of it, overnight.

She called Gavin over a hundred times.

When he finally picked up, she was sobbing. “You can’t do this to me, Gavin. She’s your daughter too. Are you just going to throw her away?”

Gavin’s voice came back dead and hollow.

“My daughter is dead because of you.”

Silence on the line.

“Your kid had a VIP maternity suite, thousand–dollar onesies, everything she could ever need. And mine?

What did mine get?”

He paused.

“My daughter died, Bianca. Because of you. Don’t you dare talk to me about children.”

He hung up.

Bianca crumpled to the floor.

That same day, Maren’s parents were served with a lawsuit for the 1.88–million–dollar settlement, plus three years of interest.

They flew to Marlowe and knelt outside the apartment building.

“Maren, we made a mistake. Please, just talk to Gavin for us. Put in a good word…”

Wesley’s security came down and delivered her answer. “Ms. Halstead says she doesn’t have parents

Her mother clutched her chest and collapsed to the ground. Her usual fake panic attack.

This time, nobody looked.

Five years passed.

Spring came early to Havenport that year. Bougainvillea crawled up the entire balcony wall.

Maren sat in a wicker chair with a book open in her lap. She’d barely turned a page.

A warm breeze drifted past, and she let her eyes close.

Little footsteps padded up behind her.

“Mommy, look!”

A boy, just past three, wobbled over, holding up a drawing smothered in crayon.

“What’d you draw?”

“It’s Mommy!”

She smiled and took it. A lopsided circle, and beside it, a smaller one.

“And who’s this little one?”

“My sister.”

Her hand went still.

Wesley came out of the kitchen with a fruit platter and stopped mid–step.

The boy looked up at her, serious as anything. “Daddy said I have a sister who lives in the sky. And when Mommy misses her, she can look at the stars.”

Maren leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead.

“That’s right, baby. She lives in heaven.”

Her eyes were wet, but she was smiling.

Wesley didn’t say a word. He set the platter beside her and sat down next to her.

He made sure her account had enough money in it to last ten lifetimes.

The closet was full of dresses he’d bought her. More shoes than she could ever wear.

She told him once it was too much. He said it still wasn’t enough.

“You deserve every good thing there is.”

That weekend, they went to the mall.

Her son insisted on picking his own shoes. He crouched in front of the shelves, deliberating like it was the biggest decision of his life. Wesley went to pay while she waited nearby.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone stop.

She turned. Gavin was standing a few yards away.

He’d lost too much weight. His suit hung off him, and the shadows under his eyes looked permanent.

He went rigid when he saw her.

Then his eyes dropped to the boy beside her.

The boy shrank behind her legs and tugged at her shirt.

“Mommy.”

That one word hit Gavin like something physical. He swallowed hard.

Wesley walked over carrying the bags. He looked at Gavin, his face blank.

He scooped up the boy with one arm and rested his other hand on Maren’s shoulder.

Gavin’s eyes locked on that hand.

That used to be his place.

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

He closed his fist, turned, and walked away. Slowly.

He got in his car and started the engine. He didn’t drive.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slip of paper.

It was creased and soft, the edges worn to fuzz.

Nine dollars and ninety cents.

Five years ago, he’d pulled the slips out of the trash can where she’d thrown them.

The rest had been ruined in the trash.

This was the only one left.

He smoothed it flat against the steering wheel and ran his thumb over the numbers, over and over.

The sun was bright outside.

Maren came out of the mall. The boy was up on Wesley’s shoulders, laughing so hard his voice carried across the parking lot.

Gavin watched them walk away and closed his fingers around the slip.

Nine dollars and ninety cents.

The most expensive thing he’d ever lost.

And he could never afford it again.