The Billionaire's Wife by Ava Claire

THIRTEEN
    T he truth about Cole hung in the air. Choking the conversation.
    He killed his parents.
    Everything he told us was a lie.
    I didn't realize I was trembling until I brought my hand to my mouth, covering it in horror as my mind processed the information. To think I thought the biggest problem was the time lost, the memories they never got to make. The bitter childhood Jacob had. The only thing that brought me comfort was that Jacob had his grandparents. And Allegra.
    And now he had me—and I thought he had Cole. A brother who lived a totally different life. A life filled with love and laughter and family. But they were both broken. Both suffering.
    And now they both had nothing but lies and the cruel reality of the truth.
    "Jacob." His name escaped between my fingers. Muffled. A broken hearted plea when I turned to him. But he was stoic. Unmoving. Like some perfect figure in a wax museum. I flicked my eyes over to Alicia, who wasn't moving, not breathing either. The Whitmore exhibit, where nothing was as it seemed. The story of a family so lost that I doubted they could ever find their way to anything good and happy.
    But that thought was dashed as soon as I had it.
    Not Jacob.
    We were good.
    We were happy.
    And we would get through this.
    I reached for him. "Babe, I'm so-"
    "Don't." He came to life. The blue in his eyes was like ice. Jagged. Cold. Dangerous.
    I pulled my hand back, making a fist in my lap. I dug my nails deep into my palm. I knew my first reaction was to take offense, but that would do no one any good. He had the right to be angry. To withdraw. Right now, it wasn't about me and my need to fix this. My need to make sure he was okay. He wasn't. Not by a long shot.
    He pushed away from the table, the screech flooding the room. He buttoned his jacket, smoothed his tie, and left the room without another word.
    It was just me, Alicia, and the nameless servant who stopped smiling around the moment Alicia started yelling.
    I swiped my wine glass and chugged the ruby red liquid, not caring that it dribbled down my chin. When I finished the woman moved to refill my glass, to do something, but Alicia snapped her fingers and she stopped dead in her tracks.
    "My guest doesn't need a refill, because this farce of a dinner is over." Alicia tossed her attention in the servant's direction, slipping back into the roll of the lady of the manor. Her face was scrubbed of any indication that she’d shown signs of being human. "Please show Leila out and-"
    "I'm not going anywhere," I growled. I glared at the women, who in turn looked at Alicia helplessly.
    Alicia sighed and waved the woman away. She fled the room instantly like she'd just been given a pardon. Poor lady. I could only imagine what it was like to work for Alicia Whitmore, then to watch the unraveling. We had definitely put any assumptions that money equals happiness to bed. This room alone was filled with enough silver and gold and artwork to pay several people’s mortgages—and it didn't take a shrink to see that Alicia was far from happy. And Jacob...
    "You have fucked up," I said finally. I massaged my temple, trying to come to terms with the fact that I was probably wasting my breath, yet unable to stop trying. I'd never stop trying to break through to Alicia. For Jacob. "Do you even get that? Can you wrap your mind around what you've done?"
    Alicia stared straight ahead. Unblinking. Unaffected. "I will not be lectured by you." She took a sip so small that it was impossible she tasted anything at all. It was just a show. A way to make me understand just how little I meant to her. "You don't know my story-"
    “Chandeliers. Servants. Caviar. White linen tablecloths. Dishes I probably can’t pronounce...is that you? Is that your story? Wealth and bitterness?”
    I snapped to my feet and finally saw a flash of emotion in Alicia’s eyes: relief. When she figured out that I wasn’t leaving and was just moving closer, she let out an agitated sigh. I