"Riggs," Madelyn shouts.
"Stop embarrassing yourself," Hugh demands.
I walk faster, slide into my driver's seat, and rev the Porsche. I speed out of the driveway. I look in my rearview mirror, and Madelyn's dropped to the ground, sobbing.
Part of me feels sorry for her and Hugh, but then I remind myself what he's done and how she's been a horrible mother to Blakely all these years. She doesn't deserve any mercy either. They deserve everything they're getting and all the wrath that's still to come.
I turn up my music, ecstatic this is almost over. It's been a huge test of my patience, and I know I'm playing a dangerous game, even though I've covered my tracks.
I race home, ready to announce Blakely to the world at the charity event tonight. Things couldn't be more perfect between us. I've kept the name of her wing under wraps, but all of Hugh's friends will be there, and more gossip will fly once they find out I've married her.
But it doesn't matter if he finds out tonight. Tomorrow, he'll know I'm the one who's taken him down. The company will be mine, and his daughter is mine. She loves me, and I love her. We'll do good things together, and nothing will ever break us.
Things couldn't be better in my life.
29
Blakely
Warm air hits me as I step out of the plane. Riggs stands at the bottom of the steps, and I bounce down them, leaping into his arms.
He squeezes me tight, then kisses me, asking, "How was your interview?"
"Awesome," I gush.
Noah clears his throat behind me, adding, "She did great."
Riggs locks eyes with him. "I don't doubt it. See you tonight. Make sure you bring your checkbook." He leads me over to his Porsche and opens the door.
I slide inside.
He gets in the driver's seat, starts the engine, and asks, "So, what was it like?"
I shrug. "It was the same as all the others." This month, Noah's kept me busy with interviews. They're fun, and my single is climbing the charts. It's currently at number five, which is beyond my wildest dreams for my first single. Ears and Noah claim it will hit number one, but I'm grateful for all the initial success I'm having.
"Something happened while you were in the air," Riggs claims.
"What?"
His grin widens. He kisses the back of my hand and declares, "You're at number four."
I gape at him. It only hit number five yesterday.
He chuckles. "Don't look so shocked. You're going to the top, pet."
"It's just surreal," I mutter.
He squeezes my hand and veers into another lane. "Well, get used to it, Mrs. Madden. Your album is amazing."
My butterflies kick off. It happens every time he calls me Mrs. Madden.
He turns down another street, then pulls into a parking garage, stating, "We don't have a lot of time to get ready."
"We're not going home to Malibu?" I question.
He stops at a concrete wall, rolls his window down, then puts his hand on the screen. The wall lifts, displaying a tiny area. He drives the car into it.
My goose bumps break out. "Are we at Apartment Thirteen?"