“I want you dead, Cassidy. You dared to leave me. That baby is mine. You are mine.”
He lunged at her, hands tightening around her throat. He punched her, kicked her. Cassidy thought of Emma.
She clawed at his face. He caught her and pinned her down. “This time you’re not getting away.” Darkness was closing in.
Then the weight vanished. Two men in black pulled Derek away. Maxwell Thornton stood at the end of the alley. His eyes were burning with hellfire. He knelt beside her. “Who did this to you?”
He pulled her into his arms. “He’ll never touch you again. I swear it.”
Derek was dragged away into a black car. Maxwell drove her back in silence. His private doctor treated her injuries. “He’ll never look for you again,” Maxwell said quietly. Derek was dead.
“Why? Why did you do this for me?”
“Because I couldn’t save my wife and child. But I could save you and the baby.” He wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m a devil, Cassidy. But with you, with Emma, I want to be someone else.”
“A man pretending doesn’t cry the way you cried that night.”
“Stay,” she whispered. “Please, I don’t want to be alone tonight.” He lay down next to her. In the night, his hand found hers.
Maxwell began coming home earlier. He sat on the floor watching Emma play. One afternoon in the kitchen, Emma’s tiny hand closed around his finger. She looked up and said: “Papa.”
Maxwell shot to his feet, the chair crashing backward. He staggered back.
“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.” He ran to the living room, stopping in front of a photograph of Victoria and Thomas. He broke down in sobbing grief.
“I don’t deserve to be called a father. Thomas died because of me.”
Cassidy wrapped her arms around him from behind.
