Now I couldn’t wait to get to that moment when she would fill it.
But we needed to make it through this crowd first.
A bristle of fierce energy rumbled through Sebastian. His tone was hard as he spoke near my ear. “This is the same bullshit they pull at every turn, and you don’t need to deal with it now. They have no right to be here.”
But they were.
And this was part of Sebastian’s life.
A part I had accepted to be with him.
Although now some of the obsession was directed at me.
We were hit with a firestorm of questions.
Most laced with assumptions.
Lies and hurt and morbid intrigue.
A warped and skewed truth to feed the fascination.
“Can you tell us the verdict in your daughter’s custody hearing?”
I cowered closer into Sebastian, part of me wanting to shout victory and adoration, the other determined to keep my mouth closed. Understanding the game because I’d had to play it before.
“Mr. Stone, is it true Sunder is currently seeking a new lead to replace you?”
“Sebastian Stone, has your relationship with Hailey Marx officially come to an end?”
Grunting, Sebastian shoved through the swelling crowd, his anger throttled, the restraint he barely hung onto quickly unraveling as he pulled me tighter.
“Ms. Bentley, how do you respond to the breach of contract between you and Mr. Jennings?”
My eyes immediately flew the reporter’s direction, and I could feel my brows pinching with the question he hurled.
Breach of contract?
Never before had it been claimed.
Was he claiming it now?
A jumble of voices fought for our attention.
“Now that you’re out of hiding, will Delaney Rhoads be making a comeback?”
I wanted to scream, Not a chance in hell, but instead I held my tongue and allowed Sebastian to haul us forward, his body a battering ram driving through the throng.
“Sebastian Stone, it’s no secret you and Martin Jennings remain at odds. It seems obvious you’re using your relationship with Shea Bentley to get back at him.”
Sebastian growled, “We told you what we had to say yesterday. Now get the hell out of my way.”
Rage vibrated from his bones. It was enough to send the lesser of the photographers scampering out of his way.
But some remained bold, and a microphone was shoved in my face. “Is it true you hid your pregnancy from Martin Jennings, and now he is seeking full custody?”
Nausea rolled in my stomach.
They had no clue, no idea the secrets I’d kept inside or why I’d kept them.
No idea the lengths I’d gone to protect my daughter.
Another voice at my ear. “Your estranged mother is quoted as saying, ‘I’ve never been faced with greater disappointment and discouragement than in my daughter’s betrayal.’ Can you comment?”
As if I’d been kicked in the gut, I gasped, and angry tears pricked at my eyes. I wanted to lash out, just as Sebastian had done outside the hospital on Sunday night.
Because. This. Hurt.
How did she still shock me with her vitriol?
Didn’t they understand what we had already been put through?
The pain?
This was the life I’d run from.
One I’d hidden away to protect myself, but most of all, to protect my daughter.
Burying Delaney Rhoads.
But shallow graves are so easily uncovered, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with her resurrection.
For a second we broke free, and we darted across the street to where the Suburban was parked. Running lights flashed as we neared it, the locks disarming, and Sebastian yanked open the passenger door, quick to help me inside.
He slammed the door shut behind me.
I watched as he fought back through the reporters, as he rounded the front, this time not quite as amicably as he’d been with me at his side. Three seconds later, his door flung open and he jumped in. Immediately he slammed it closed, cutting off the frenzy of voices.
Panting, my breaths wheezed from my too-tight lungs, and I tried to calm my thundering pulse.