Page 89 of Discretion at Its Finest

Then, almost as if he never felt it, his eyes hardened, his steps firm and final as he approached me. “You do know,” he murmured. “You know exactly what that was.”

My breath stuttered. “Raymond—”

He shook his head, a bitter scoff escaping him. “I should’ve seen it sooner. I thought you were better than this… the one woman in this family I believed had enough dignity, enough restraint, to hold the damn line.”

The words hit like a slap.

“But who would’ve known Genevieve Devereaux would be the one to drag this family’s name through filth again? After everything we’ve survived… after everything I did to protect you.”

My stomach twisted.

He exhaled through his nose, frustration and something older, something bruised and broken, darkening his features. “But I see now…” he whispered, eyes sliding over me with a cold, disappointed assessment. “You’re no different… History repeats itself in this family. And apparently—” his gaze cut downward,a deliberate insult ”—so do the women who can’t keep their loyalties or their legs where they belong.”

My breath hitched. “Raymond, please, just listen—”

“I don’t want to hear any more excuses,” he seethed. “Whatever you think you’re doing,” he said, voice low and lethal, “it stops now. If you want this family to have any dignity left…” His jaw tightened. “You will collect yourself. You will act like the woman—” his voice sharpened ”—the fiancée, the mother you’ve claimed to be.”

Three weeks had passed since Reid was taken into custody.

I’d spent three weeks without his voice, his eyes on me, his warmth, his presence…

Alone. Going through the motions in hospital waiting rooms with forced smiles, feeling like a prisoner in my own home.

Yet somehow, the days still kept moving.

Eugene was curled against my chest now, warm and heavy from exhaustion, his little eyes still wet from the tantrum he’d almost thrown after eating his snack, but I knew he was just cranky. He was a bit more needy these days, more clingy, more irritable.

He’d begun missing Cara and Reid, the people who were present, who cared to be there… It got easier as the days passed, but there was a part of me afraid he’d forget them. I sat on the floor beside his bed, my back against the frame, legs tucked to the side as I held him.

It had also been three weeks since I realized I missed my cycle, two weeks since I visited my OB/GYN to confirm.

And the only person I wanted to tell… the only one who deserved to know… was sitting in a federal holding facility with no contact allowed.

I swallowed hard, tightening my hold around Eugene. Newman Trust had collapsed in a single week.

The FBI seized everything. Every floor, every server, every file, every last cent tied to the Newman name. They froze accounts, shut down departments, hauled out boxes in front of cameras that had been waiting on the sidewalk.

As it stood currently in the public eye, the Newman legacy, or what was left of it, was gone.

Standing up, I eased Eugene onto his bed, tucking the blanket up to his shoulders as his little fingers loosened from my sweater. He settled quickly as I placed a small kiss on his forehead, brushing the hair from his little face before stepping out of his room.

Downstairs, I could hear laughter, light-hearted joyful laughter like we weren’t in the middle of a shitstorm. I smoothed out my sweater dress, my fingers twitching with unknown nervousness as I descended the steps. Approaching the dining room, the attention of the room was diverted to me.

I had done my best over the last few weeks to keep a low profile, ignore Gregory’s growing distance, tread lightly around Raymond after what he’d said… but there was another issue.

“Genevieve, it’s good to see you,” Cheryl beamed, her smile not reaching her eyes in a way that was genuine.

Shewas here again. The woman who had somehow slithered into this house, unnoticed at first, then suddenly everywhere, filling the spaces I used to hold together. Raymond sat at the table beside her quietly, observing me just like he’d done since the day Reid went to prison.

I returned a forced smile to Cheryl. “Same here.” Then I made my way to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. My throat felt dry, the air in the home thick and suffocating almost.

I tuned out what conversation it was they were having in the next room over, and when my chamomile honey tea was finished, I did my best to leave unnoticed. However, Gregory appeared before me.

“Oh, Gen, stay,” he said softly, stepping into my path before I could ghost out of the kitchen. “We were just about to discuss some things.”

His tone was gentle, almost tentative. But it felt like he didn’t know how to talk to me anymore even if he felt obligated to play the part of the “attentive” fiancé in front of his father and…her.

My grip tightened around the mug.