Rumors Behind the Greek's Wedding

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’ he roared, unable to hold himself back. Everything he’d done, all of it, to protect his sister, it was slipping through his fingers like sand.

‘Because I thought the records were sealed. Because I thought my father left my name off the designs.’

‘Just how naïve are you? It’s a legal patent. Of course he would have had to put your name down on the paperwork.’

He was half convinced that he was now shaking as much as Célia. Only he was furious. And she was scared, he realised, desperately attempting to pull back on the leash that had been lifted from his anger. He was going to lose. He was going to lose Annabelle. And Célia...

‘I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed. Because I know what those drones have done and will continue to do. Why do you think I was so determined to counter that with the charity work I do?’

‘Well, it’s not like I would have been able to guess that with you keeping so many damn secrets.’ The line was petty and he hated himself for it, but couldn’t stop it.

‘I didn’t tell you,’ she said finally, in the softest of voices, ‘because you wanted the perfect fiancée. You didn’t, in fact, want someone whose reputation is worse than your own.’

He couldn’t deny her words. He knew she was telling the truth. That she had believed no one would find out. And he could see that she was destroyed by the revelation in court, by the knowledge of what her designs had been put to use for. But did it matter? Right now, to the granting of guardianship over Annabelle?

He turned away from her then, unable to bear the weight of her watery eyes. Each glint cut against him, burying into his heart, exposing a raw pain, a deeper truth. One that could not be denied. All this time he’d roared and railed against the pain of being abandoned, rejected in favour of money. His father left a broken shell by the divorce and never quite fully recovering. And Loukis, himself, left horrified and damaged by the knowledge of his worth in his mother’s eyes.

But now this time, it was he who was being forced to make the choice. It felt as if he were being torn in two, a painful wrenching that he feared he might never soothe. Neither option would provide enough to compensate for what he would lose.

His mind worked furiously, trying to forecast the outcome of whatever his next move was, until he was dizzy with an infinite number of futures, all of which left him sacrificing something vital to him.

Fury raged within him as he realised that the price he would have to pay for Annabelle was Célia. This beautiful, impassioned, kind, supportive woman who had snuck beneath every single defence he had. And he couldn’t have her. Not if he wanted to protect Annabelle from their mother.

* * *

Célia could see it. The moment that he realised what she, herself, had come to realise as soon as Meredith had cried out the word murderer. There was no way that she could stay. She was now the greatest threat to his guardianship over Annabelle. A far worse threat than any that Loukis could have represented, or even foreseen.

Loukis’s chance at being granted custody had hung by a gossamer thread already. And she had effectively severed that thread. If she stayed.

‘Don’t,’ he commanded as if hearing her thoughts.

‘It’s the only way.’

He didn’t speak, but he was shaking his head as if refusing to listen. Refusing to do the only thing left to do.

She took a deep breath that trembled within her lungs. Oh, it hurt. So, so much. In her mind rose Loukis’s words from the first night they had made love. Speaking them now, with her tongue, the words on her lips, she felt them down to her very soul.

‘I am not capable of giving you what you deserve. Not now. Not ever.’

‘That is not fair.’

‘None of it is fair Loukis.’

She looked at him, his hair a chaotic mess, his eyes blazing, torn, but she could tell he knew, could tell that he would not stop her. And even in that, he looked glorious to her. The man who had given her strength, the man who had returned her sense of self to her. The man she had come to love. The man she was now destroying.

The horror she felt rising within her at the sheer fact that she had accidentally brought this down on him was acute. That she was the one who had unconsciously betrayed him... She knew that precise poison betrayal could be, the self-recrimination, anger and helplessness when wishes, plans and hopes for the future were taken away and smashed against the floor. She knew the devastating anguish that would reap for Loukis and she wouldn’t, couldn’t, do that to him.

‘You will return to the court, be as outraged as you like. You didn’t know. You would never have allowed me any contact with Annabelle had you known. And you have severed our...connection. I will not be an impediment to your guardianship over Annabelle.’

He said nothing, staring at her so intently she had to break their gaze. Had to because she simply couldn’t bear it.

‘I’ll go straight to the airport. You can send my things on and I’ll give you the money—’

‘Stop,’ he commanded.

‘No. Because I’m right and you know it. It’s the only way.’

‘Célia,’ he begged, and she couldn’t stand it. ‘I can’t—’