King of Masters by Brynn Ford

CHAPTER 34

Murphy

TWO YEARS LATER

“THAT'S IT,” I say to Declan, ending the call on my cell phone, “it’s done.”

He lets out a heavy breath. “When are you leaving?”

I scrub my hand across my beard, swallowing a painful lump in my throat. “After I tell Stella.”

“Tell me what?” She appears in the doorway to my office, my stunning, perfect wife, sauntering joyfully into the room. “Never mind, it’ll have to wait because I have something I need to tell you first.” Her smile is broad and unyielding, and it makes my heart drop into my stomach. “Declan, will you give us a second?”

“Stella—” he starts.

“Your news will have to wait,” I tell her, then look at my brother, tilting my head toward the door to indicate he should go.

He gives me a sad smile and nods, slowly exiting and closing the door behind him.

Fuck, this is gonna hurt.

Her head tilts to the side and her unyielding smile gradually gives way the longer she stares at me. I can’t hide the ache of my soul for what I have to tell her. This is going to break her. It’s going to break me. But this decision has been a long time coming and there’s no going back now.

For two stressful years, we skillfully and intentionally misled the other families. It was easy enough to do in the chaos of Anya and Ezra’s escape. I’d managed to convince them that Anya and her baby were dead—that they’d died at a hospital in Russia shortly after they escaped the forest on the helicopter. I’d led the charge to hunt Ezra down, producing and presenting fake leads for them to chase.

It was all in the name of keeping them occupied and distracted while Stella and I dismantled what we could. We both knew what would ultimately need to be done, but I’d promised her we had more time together. I didn’t know we’d be here so soon…that I’d have to have this conversation with her now.

“Okay. So, tell me,” she insists, crossing the room and circling my desk. I roll my chair back and let her move in front of me, leaning against the edge of the desk. “What is it?”

“Well, good news first. The Copenhagen factory is officially closed.”

Her eyes widen and the smile returns to her face. “That’s fantastic. That’s five O’Shea factories now.” She reaches out for my hand, and I let her take it. She bends to plant a few soft kisses across my knuckles before holding it in her palm, laying it in her lap. She studies my face carefully. “Why are you shaking?”

“There wasn’t enough money to pay off all the girls we let go.”

She shifts uncomfortably. “What did you do?”

“No one got hurt,” I rush to assure her. “They were all let go.”

“Oh,” she breathes out in relief.

“Our family is bleeding money with all the factories we’ve been closing. I had to make a choice.” I squeeze my fingers around her hand, holding on tightly. “I had to make sure there was enough to provide you with the long, happy life you deserve.”

Her brow furrows. “What are you saying? You’re making me nervous.”

I pull my hand from her grip, push to my feet, and pace away from her. She stands, turning to face me. “You wanted me to destroy the four families, and we’ve made great strides in that direction. But it all comes at a price. Paying off the captives for their silence has been an expensive venture, and I’ve always known their silence was never guaranteed. I thought we’d be able to close a few more factories before everything went public, but…we’ve reached our financial limit. I thought we’d have a few more years, but there’s no time left.

“I’ve prepared a written statement confirming that you were my captive, taken against your will, and forced into marriage. I’ve stated that you had no knowledge of and no control over business decisions made on behalf of the four families. You never attended a board meeting. You never saw our documents and sales reports. You attempted to escape on several occasions, and you sought to escape every chance you got.”

“None of that is true…”

I turn to face her. “It’s what I’ve written, and you will not deny it, do you understand me?”

She shakes her head. “No. No, I don’t.” She crosses to me, grabbing my cheeks with her hands. “Tell me what this is all about.”

“I’ve sent twenty-two million into an untraceable offshore account. My accountant will be in touch with you in two weeks to let you know how to access it. You’ll be comfortable for the rest of your life.”

Her grip on my face tightens. “What are you talking about? Tell me right now.”

“I’m turning myself in.”

She gasps and sucks all the air from the room. Her hands drop from my cheeks and the look on her face makes my heart sink heavily.

She whispers, barely audible, “When?”

“Today.”

Her hands lift to cover her mouth as her eyes scan my features. I stand before her, steady and feigning calm, as she watches me, as she takes in the news. Her brown eyes glisten as tears fill them, as the realization hits her that I’m going away for a long time, possibly forever.

Forever without her?

Her chest rises, and as the sob forces its way out of her, I step forward and throw my arms around her. I drag her against my chest, against my pounding heart which beats only for her.

She cries in my arms, and I cry with her because we both know that I might never return once I turn myself in. It’s ironic, really. To become the best version of myself, to be the man she truly deserves, I have to do this. I have to turn myself in and hand over all the information I have about the four families to be worthy of her love. And it means I’ll likely be imprisoned for life…it means I’ll likely never be with her again.

“You can’t…” she forces out the words through her tears. “You can’t do this now. You said we had more time together.”

“I thought we did. But I needed to ensure you and my family would be taken care of when I’m gone, and the money only stretches so far.”

Her arms, which were pinned between us where she covered her face in shock, snap down and lasso around my waist. She hugs me tight, like she’s afraid to let me go.

She is afraid to let me go—because when she does, I’ll be gone.

I let her cry and hold me for as long as she needs to, minutes stretching on as her tears soak my shirt. I inhale her scent—sweet and strong—then press a kiss to the top of her head.

“I have to do this,” I whisper to her, though I say the words for myself.

I have to do this.

There’s no other way for me to redeem myself from the horror I’ve caused countless lives. If it weren’t for Stella, none of this would have happened, nothing would’ve changed. I’d still be kidnapping women and selling them as slaves. I’d still be vile and vicious, a ruthless king of masters.

It’s because of her that I saw the truth, the reality of our business. She took the spark of humanity left buried deep within me and rekindled it, fed it, helped it grow into a flame that consumed me. From the ashes, we melded together and became one soul that could take on the world.

I don’t know how I’ll live out my days without her.

She lifts her head after several minutes to look up at me. “How am I going to do this without you?”

“You’re strong, far more capable than I am. You’re going to be just fine on your own. Declan will be around to help you, at least to get you back on your feet. You can move to New York if you want, spend more time with Cora and Josh—”

“That’s not what I want. I want you.”

I cradle her head in my palm and pull her against me again, holding her firmly to my chest. “You can come visit me.” I try to keep my voice steady, but it falters.

“It’s not enough!”

She cries until her body has exhausted itself, until she’s drained of tears and emotionally spent. At some point, she relaxes her hold on me, leaning back so she can look at me. Her voice is quiet and sad. “I came in here to tell you something.”

I stroke my hand down the side of her head and rub my thumb across her cheek.

“I know they said they weren’t sure it would ever be possible, given all the scar tissue from when I was stabbed…”

No.

My heart stops.

She can’t be. Not now.

Stella tilts her head to the side, her cheek leaning into my palm. “But it is possible because I’m pregnant, Murphy. And now you’re leaving, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this without you.”

I grab hold of her face with both my hands and kiss her hard. I kiss her with all the joy, madness, and anger that’s coursing through my veins. I feel cursed and blessed all at once. Blessed that she’s my wife, that she’s giving me a child, a family. Cursed that I have to walk away and leave it all behind.

The pain of healing, of growing, of making myself a better man to be worthy of her climbs out from deep within my heart and claws its way up my throat, filling every sense, overwhelming me with pressure, and forcing its way out through burning, aching tears.

I drop to my knees in front of her, grabbing her hips and pulling her close so I can kiss her belly before wrapping my arms around her tightly. I hold her and cry for the future I’ll never get to see…the future I’ve created for her and our child.

I did this for her.

It’s the future she deserves.

“Am I worthy of your love?” I whisper through my pain, lifting my head to look up at her. “Have I done enough to earn your heart?”

She looks down at me and I see the softness in her eyes, the kindness, the empathy, the loyalty. “You’ve earned all of me. All of me, heart and soul.”

She falls to her knees, grabs my face, and kisses me with enough passion to last a lifetime.

This kiss may very well be our last.