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The Kingpin Who Killed for Me Was the One Who Sold Me First
Novelix
Completed
Two seconds before I say I do, the screen behind me lights up with a video of me being kidnapped and passed around a room full of strangers. My fiancé slides the ring onto my best friend's finger instead. And then he walks in—Kane Locke, the gangster who runs half the island—drops to one knee, and swears he'll love me no matter what.Three years. Eight dead babies. One overheard conversation.He orchestrated the whole thing. The kidnapping. The video. The wedding. All so my best friend could climb over my body into a bigger name. And me? I was just the womb.Now he's on his knees again. Begging. Bleeding.Too late.
Chapters (3)
第1章
I'm two seconds from saying I do when the screen behind me lights up.
It's me. On that screen. Half-naked. Bleeding. Being passed around a room full of men. Every second of it. In high definition. In front of three hundred people.
My fiancé is holding the ring above my finger. He turns around. He slides it onto my best friend's hand instead.
Someone rips the top of my dress down. Someone else cracks something hard across the back of my skull. Then a shove between my shoulder blades, and I'm going backward off the altar, three feet down, straight into white rose petals.
The doors slam open.
Kane Locke walks in. Cecily's older brother. The man who runs half this island. One shot from his gun and the screen blows out in a shower of sparks.
He drags me up against his chest like I'm the last thing left on earth.
Nobody in that ballroom moves. Nobody breathes. His boys carry in ten steel crates and drop them at my feet. Gold. Diamonds. Stacks of it.
Then Kane goes down on one knee. In front of everyone. In front of Julian. In front of Cecily.
He asks me to marry him.
And I say yes. God help me, I say yes.
Three years later.
The day my IVF finally takes, I walk to his study clutching the ultrasound picture against my chest. I'm about to tell my husband we're having a baby.
Then I hear his voice through the door.
"Damn, Boss. Three years ago, if you hadn't dropped that little home movie of Willow getting worked over at her own wedding, Ceci never would've made it into the Ford family."
Kane. Cigarette hanging off his lip. Laughing like it's nothing.
"The Fords care about one thing. Their name. Willow had to come out of that ballroom filthy. Beyond touching. Ceci wanted to be the future Mrs. Ford, and I wasn't gonna let my little sister down."
Somebody snickers.
"Yeah, but Boss, why'd you have to take the leftovers home? You didn't have to marry that used-up bitch yourself."
Kane's mouth curls.
"Ceci's soft. She can't handle the pain of carrying a kid. I needed a womb to push out an heir for her and the Fords. Something to lock her in for good. Willow's is right there. Might as well use it."
The laughter behind that door doesn't stop.
Every drop of blood in my body runs cold from my scalp down to the soles of my feet.
Everything I thought was salvation. Every soft word. Every crate of gold. Every promise. It was all a hole. A deeper one. Dug just for me. So Cecily Vale could climb up out of it wearing a crown, standing on my bones.
I wipe my face.
I pull out my phone. I scroll to the one number in this city Kane hates more than his own reflection.
Vince Reyes. The man who runs the other half of these streets.
"I've got a hundred-million-dollar job for you. Guaranteed payout. You in?"
The voices coming through that door make me sick.
"Damn, Boss. That was smart. Swapping her vitamins for abortion pills? She couldn't hold a baby if her life depended on it. That's how you got her running to IVF. And the whole time, she thinks the embryo is hers. She has no clue it's Ceci's and Julian's. If she ever found out, she'd lose it."
"Let her lose it. When the baby comes out, we tell her it died. She won't fight. She'll blame herself. Too broken to hold a kid. That womb of hers has one job. Push out a baby for Ceci. That's it."
Kane crushes his cigarette in the ashtray. Slow. Easy. Stands up.
His eyes drag around the room like a gun.
"What was said in here dies in here. Mouths shut. Not one word. I need Willow calm. Quiet. Pregnant. Until that baby comes out."
Quinn holds up three fingers, grinning.
"Boss. Come on. That girl is dumb."
Somebody laughs.
"Like, actually dumb," Quinn says. "We called her sis one time. Now she thinks she runs the house."
"She cooks?"
"Every night. Different dish."
The room cracks up.
"If she ever found out I picked every guy in that video—one by one—she'd throw herself off a roof."
Somebody whistles.
"Damn, Quinn. Cold."
"Selfish, too. Why didn't you pick me? I would've had a real good time with that tight little—"
He doesn't finish.
A knife flies across the room and sticks in the couch. Right between his legs.
His face goes white. His eyes almost pop out of his head. He stops breathing.
"Willow can be as dirty as you want to call her." Kane's voice is flat. "She's still my wife. Next guy who says one word about that night loses his dick. Are we clear?"
One of the younger guys clears his throat. Works up the nerve.
"Boss. You gotta feel something for her. She looks quiet, but she's tough. What if one day she figures it out and walks?"
Kane laughs. Like it's the funniest thing he's heard all week.
"That girl? Please. Damaged goods with a head full of fairy tales. Two nice words and she comes crawling back like a dog."
The whole room loses it.
Outside, I'm against the wall.
I can't feel my hands. I can't feel my legs. I'm cold from my scalp to my feet.
I press both hands over my mouth. The sobs come out anyway.
The laughing dies down. Somebody's walking to the door.
I turn and I run.
Down the stairs. Straight to the coffee table. I grab a glass of red wine and drink the whole thing in one swallow.
It burns. Throat. Chest. Eyes. And then the tears come.
My nails dig into my palm. Every word from that study plays in my head. Over and over.
Three years ago. One week before my wedding to Julian Ford.
They snatched me off the street in broad daylight. They didn't want money. They wanted twenty-four hours to break me. And they took every one of them.
When I came home, Julian cried into my hair. Said he still loved me. Said he'd still marry me.
Then, on my wedding day, that video played on the screen behind me. And Julian slid my ring onto Cecily's finger.
I became the whore of the city. Everybody's punchline. Everybody's warning.
And Kane. Kane. He came crashing through those doors. Held me against his chest like I mattered. Shut every single mouth in that ballroom with one bullet and one look. Touch her and die.
He had ten crates of gold and diamonds dragged in for me. Said he didn't care what happened to me. Didn't care what anyone said. Said if he couldn't marry me in this life, he'd die unhappy.
The way he looked at me. God. I believed him. I let myself love again because of that look.
And now I know.
The whole thing was a setup. Every second of it. A trap. So Cecily Vale could walk to the top over my dead body.
Now it all makes sense. Ceci calling me the day I got taken. My car broke down, Willow. Please come get me. That weird little smile on her face at the altar.
She knew. She knew the whole time.
I was the sacrifice. She was the bride.
And me. Stupid, in-love me. I gave three years of my life to the man who lit the match.
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. I don't feel it.
All I feel is hate. Deep. Ugly. Endless.
Then two big hands land on my shoulders.
Kane pulls me into his chest like he's done a thousand times. He sees the tears on my face and his eyebrows pull together, hard.
"Who the fuck made my wife cry?" His voice drops. Low. Deadly. "Whoever it is—get your ass down here. Now."
第2章
The room goes dead silent.
Every head drops. Nobody breathes.
Kane's mouth pulls into a slow smile.
He pulls the gun from his waistband and presses it into my hand. Wraps his arms around me from behind. Guides my hand up. Drags the barrel across every face in that room, one at a time.
"Baby. See anyone you don't like? Pull the trigger. Daddy'll clean it up."
Every man the gun touches shakes like a leaf. Not one of them moves.
On this island, Kane Locke runs one of the two biggest crews in Saint-Marin. Nobody crosses him. Nobody even tries.
The barrel lands on Quinn's forehead.
My hand freezes.
Quinn's face twitches. Every drop of blood drains out of it.
But all I can hear in my head is his voice from that study. I'm the one who picked every guy in that video by hand.
I grind my teeth. My eyes burn red. My finger tightens on the trigger.
Kane pushes the barrel down.
"Easy, wife. The doctor just called. IVF took. Let's not spook my son with all this blood."
He kisses my forehead. Soft. Slow. Looks at me the same way he's looked at me for three years. Like I'm the only woman on earth.
If I hadn't heard what I heard behind that door, I would have believed every second of it.
I don't say anything.
His eyes drift to the empty wine glass on the coffee table.
He starts playing with my fingers. Lazy. Casual.
"You been down here long, baby? Come looking for me upstairs?"
I swallow the fear.
"No. You boys were up there talking business. All that smoke. Not my thing."
He stares at me for two seconds.
Then he smiles. Pats my head. Tells the maid to bring me a cup of tea to sober me up.
The maid walks over. Hands the cup out to me.
Kane lifts the gun and blows her head off.
Blood sprays across my face. Warm. Thick. My whole face locks up.
The maid is still holding her hand out. Eyes wide open. She crumples at my feet.
Every muscle in my body shakes. Something inside my stomach twists into a fist.
Kane doesn't blink.
He grabs a tissue. Wipes the blood off my face slowly. Carefully. Like a husband taking care of his wife after a bad day.
Then he picks up the tea and holds it to my lips.
I swallow. One sip. Another. My eyes drift sideways. Two of his boys are dragging the maid out by her ankles. A long red streak trails behind her across the marble.
"My wife is pregnant and this woman still poured her wine. Trying to hurt my son. She didn't need to be alive anymore."
He strokes my pale cheek like it hurts him to see me this way.
"Daddy's sorry, baby. You've been through so much. We finally got our new baby. No more drinking. Not one drop. You hear me?"
"This baby has to come out healthy. No matter what. Got it?"
I force a smile. "Got it."
My heart drops into ice.
Three years of marriage. Eight pregnancies. Every single one gone. No reason. No warning. Just gone.
Six months ago, the doctor sat me down and told me my body couldn't do it anymore. Too many miscarriages. I would never carry a baby the natural way again.
Kane held me that night. His eyes went red. He kept saying it was okay. That he didn't need a baby. He just needed me. Alive. Healthy. His.
I hated myself. I hated my body. I hated that I couldn't hold on to a single one.
So I said yes to IVF. I let them stick needles in my stomach until it looked like a pin cushion. I choked down hormones that kept me awake all night, sick and shaking.
I thought I was walking toward something beautiful. A family. A future.
Turns out, every needle, every sleepless night, every dead baby—was for Cecily Vale.
She wanted to be Mrs. Ford. So I had to be ruined in front of three hundred people.
She was too scared of pain. So I had to lose the right to be a mother. Turned into a womb for hire.
Kane reaches over. Brushes his thumb across my forehead.
"What's wrong, baby? You look sick. Something hurting?"
第3章
"I'm fine. Just morning sickness."
Kane pulls me in tighter. Worried. Sweet.
"Baby. You've been through hell. We rushed the wedding. Never even got the pictures done. I already ordered you the dress. The one you kept staring at. Let's shoot tomorrow. Before the bump shows. Yeah?"
I look up at him. And I almost want to laugh in his face.
Those soft, loving eyes. That worried little frown. He's made a fool of me over and over. And I fell for it every single time.
If he knew I wasn't ever going to push out this bastard baby, I'd end up right next to that maid on the floor.
"I'm going up to lie down. You guys keep talking."
I make it to the bedroom. I make it to the bathroom. I throw up until there's nothing left but bile.
I slide down next to the toilet. My face is soaked.
My body hurts. But it's nothing. Not next to what's happening in my chest.
It takes me a long time to get back up.
When I come out, I see it. His phone. Sitting on the coffee table where he left it.
I don't even know why I pick it up.
I try my birthday. Wrong. His birthday. Wrong.
Cecily's birthday.
The screen unlocks.
His lock photo is her. On her toes. Kissing his cheek. Laughing like she owns the world.
It's a second phone. Hidden inside his phone. A whole life he keeps away from me.
There's almost nothing on the home screen. A few albums. One messaging app.
I open the albums.
Over eight thousand photos.
Every single one is her.
Four folders. Each one labeled with a single word. Read them in order and they spell it out:
My. Wife. Ceci. Always.
My tears drop onto the screen.
It's not the lying that's killing me. It's that I gave three years of my body and my heart to the man who set my life on fire.
I wipe my eyes to keep scrolling. And that's when I see it.
Her right shoulder. In photo after photo.
A birthmark. Shaped like a rose.
My hand goes to my own shoulder.
Same spot. Same shape. Exactly the same.
I've known Cecily since we were kids. We had sleepovers. We shared pool days and locker rooms and bikini tops. She has never—never—had a birthmark on that shoulder.
But six years ago, I told her a story.
I told her about the night I was working as a volunteer doctor down in Saint-Marin. About a man I found in an alley by the docks. Nine stab wounds. Half dead. Bleeding out on the pavement. I saved his life with my bare hands and a suture kit.
Right after I told her that story, she started pulling away from me.
A few months later she showed up on Kane Locke's arm. His sworn little sister. The girl who supposedly saved his life six years ago in Saint-Marin.
That's why he worshipped the ground she walked on. Because in his head, she was the one bleeding on that pavement with him.
Except she was never in Saint-Marin.
Not once. Not ever.
She used to trash-talk the whole country to my face. That place? God, no. All that war? All those poor sick people? Why would anyone ever go?
My knees give out. I grab the edge of the table before I hit the floor.
A picture is putting itself together in my head. And it's making me sick.
I press my face into my hands.
A sound comes out of me that isn't quite a laugh and isn't quite a sob. Something in between.
