Never again would she let someone else stand in front of her and take the hit. Because she'd been hurt.
The girl trained like she was trying to destroy herself, pushing her body well past its limits.
So I dragged her in front of Brad myself.
At first, he didn't want to take her on as a student.
"She's reckless, aggressive, impossible to teach. No instructor could handle her."
I massaged his shoulders, brewed his tea, sweet-talked him into compliance.
Coaxed him into letting Margot stay.
But after a while, I noticed I didn't need to put in a good word for Margot anymore.
Brad started extending her training sessions on his own.
Her technique grew sharper, more refined with each passing week.
When no one else was around, he even taught her lethal moves he'd never shared with anyone.
In the end, the people who'd burned down her family's studio were left broken and bleeding.
Sullivan Martial Arts Studio reopened.
Overnight, it became a sensation.
The three of us threw a small celebration.
Over drinks, she said the person she was most grateful to was me.
But I never imagined her way of showing gratitude was climbing into my fiancé's bed.
I wrenched the door open.
Margot, mid-session with Brad, looked up at me in surprise.
I crossed the room in three strides.
Shoved her hard.
"This is how you thank me?!"
Margot stumbled back a step.
Her eyes reddened. She lowered her head and said nothing.
"You're disgusting!"
"Desi!"
"Get out of my way!"
I tried to push past Brad's arm.
A hand clamped around my wrist.
He threw me to the ground.
"She's pregnant! What the hell are you doing?!"
I hit the floor clutching my stomach.
Stared up at him in disbelief.
Something flickered across his face, as though he'd just remembered I was pregnant too.
A flash of regret passed through Brad's eyes.
"There's nothing I can do about this."
"Nothing you can do..."
"The night of the celebration, we'd both had too much to drink."
Brad exhaled. "Margot saved my life once. You know I've made plenty of enemies over the years."
"She saved your life!"
My voice shook. "What about my father?
"Didn't my father save your life too?
"He didn't just find you on the street and raise you as his own son. He died for you!
"Because of all those enemies you made! My dad took a knife for you. Bled out from his heart!"
"And I've been repaying that!"
Brad's voice turned cold.
"Letting you be my kept woman. Isn't that repayment enough?
"Without that debt, did you really think you'd qualify to be my mistress?"
My body swayed.
I barely stayed on my feet.
Right...
Brad was Jacob Vance's son.
My family was nobody. A small household with nothing to our name.
We'd gotten lucky once, finding a lost little boy on the street.
Let him be my father's son for eighteen years.
But even with all those years of raising him,
it didn't change the fact that I wasn't good enough for him.
Was that really how it was?
I gripped the edge of the table.
Pulled myself up on shaking legs.
Brad reached out instinctively to steady me.
I shoved his hand away.
Then he saw what I slowly pulled from my pocket. A voice recorder.
"Without that debt, did you really think you'd qualify to be my mistress?"
"The night of the celebration, we'd both had too much to drink."
His own voice played back from the device.
I pressed pause.
His breath caught. "Desi..."
"You said I'm your kept woman, right?"
I smiled at him. "Then I should at least be getting paid."
My gaze drifted to Margot's earrings, worth half a million dollars at minimum.
