find out that she hasn’t told me? She’s the one who pulls out the phone, taps it furiously, and shows it to me.
“Man kills wife, youngest daughter, and commits suicide. The oldest child of the couple is in intensive care fighting for her life. Billionaire Justin Gibbs owned the famous department stores and supermarket chain, killed two before turning the gun on himself.”
When I look at the date, it’s the same night when I met Leyla.
“Then why do you have that old rusty truck?”
“It was Mom’s,” she answers. “Well, similar to what Mom drove before she died.”
“So, you are the heir of Gibbs?”
“In theory. My grandparents sold everything and set up two trusts under my name so that I wouldn’t misuse the money.”
I cross my arms and stare at her. This doesn’t make sense. Yes, I remember her telling me about the department stores. I just thought it was a coincidence that she shared a last name with the stores. It happens. Last names aren’t exclusive.
“Wait, you can’t be an heiress. You told me you grew up in the foster system, didn’t you?”
She leans back in the chair, wearing a confused and weary expression. “It’s a long story.”
“Which will be nice to learn,” I push her, and I feel like an asshole because I’ve barely told her about myself.
“My grandparents from my father’s side were dead. He was an only child,” she explains. “Mom’s parents didn’t want me. It was my aunt who offered to take care of me.”
She sighs. I grab her hand and kiss it. “Hey, you don’t have to continue. We can talk about this later.”
“We’re married. I think we should be more open,” she explains, and I’m definitely a fucking asshole because nothing will make me tell her about the Aldridges.
“Once I was out of the hospital, she brought me to Colorado. But I wasn’t an easy child,” she confesses. “Nobody in the family wanted me—I was the daughter of a mass murderer. She surrendered me to the state.”
She twists her wedding ring and says, “I’m sure you’re regretting many things.”
“Not at all.” I shake my head. “I’m upset with your family. Isn’t there some kind of law that prevents them from…?”
I scratch my head, trying to think if there is. I am a fucking lawyer. “But if no one in the family is capable of taking care of you, they can turn you over to the state.”
“They did,” she mumbles.
“They just abandoned you,” I state, furious because they should’ve done more.
“My grandfather died when I was seventeen,” she explains. “His lawyer found me, took me out of foster care, and handed me the fortune. I don’t use much of what they gave me because I don’t need it—and it’s tainted.”
A lot of things about her make more sense. Not even her family wanted her after what happened to her.
“We’ll find a good place to donate some of your money. I might start doing the same with mine,” I say.
“Your money?”
“My trust,” I announce.
“What kind of trust is that?”
“My father’s. Guilt money or… I don’t know why he gave it to me.”
“What’s the deal with him?”
“Things didn’t work out between my parents, and he left,” I give her the short version hoping she doesn’t ask for the long one, because it’s not worth talking about William or the fucking mess he made so many years ago.
Is this okay? That I keep so many things from her? It’s not like any of that matters. Everything that happened to me before her, along with the choices I made when I was young, are in the past. Nothing is worth leaving me, is it?
My stomach drops because what if she realizes that this is all I can give her, and she wants more? I don’t think I can live without her.
Chapter Ten
Leyla
I thought that being married would feel somehow different. So far, nothing has changed between Pierce and me. That’s not true. I’m now Leyla Aldridge. We’re still as happy as we have been since we appeared in each other’s lives. I don’t feel as if anything has changed between us or with me.
Maybe the shift will come once we move into our new house. We found a gorgeous property in Evergreen. It’s a forty-minute drive from downtown Denver, but it’s worth the commute. Five acres of land, and there’s a big barn on the property for our kids. The land is big enough that we won’t have to go to the dog park with Daisy and Buster every