I pull my black Mercedes up to the valet at the country club where I grew up at. I step out and throw the guy my keys. Stomping up the stairs, I push my sunglasses to the top of my head.
Walking in, I look around at all the men and women who occupy the facility, and I wonder how many are like my father. Living a lie? How many would sell their only child to get out of debt? I bet my life every last son of a bitch here would.
I make my way through the place and down a hallway. I take the first right and open the door to the Cayman’s spa. I know she’s here. She’s never missed a Monday appointment. Just as I walk up to the circular desk, she calls my name.
I spin around to see my mother walking toward me with a smile on her face and her arms out wide. She looks like she just returned from a beach vacation. Her crimson dress hugs her hips and chest, showing off her assets. She wears black Gucci sandals and a Louis Vuitton on her shoulder.
I place my hands on my hips. “So you sold me out in order to keep your skin looking young?”
Her face instantly falls.
Luca was right when we stood in his bathroom the night of our engagement party. He’s all that I have.
The one person in the world who was supposed to love me dropped me off at a fire station. Growing up, my mom and dad were very open about how they adopted me. They told me that if I ever wanted to find my birth mother, they would help me. I didn’t. If she didn’t want me then, she wouldn’t want me now. So we all swept it all under the rug.
They always told me that I was a miracle from God. They had been trying for children for years and couldn’t have a baby. The woman standing in front of me, who I grew up calling mom, had three miscarriages. Then one day, my father got a phone call from his friend that he had taken an abandoned baby to the hospital. My parents showed up three hours later with an attorney. When you have money, the red tape isn’t as thick. They took me home the following day and raised me as their own. They gave me their last name and a beautiful life.
Under the Safe Haven law, you are able to drop off a baby in a safe manner without fear of prosecution up to thirty days after birth. Hence why my parents named me Haven.
I grew up hearing I love you every second of every day. My parents showered me with kisses and hugs. But look where that got me.
“Why did you do it?” I ask. My voice is trembling, and I hate that it makes me look like I care. I clear my throat. “Was it for your membership here at the club? The expensive cars? The mansions and yachts?” I rattle off anything I can think of them losing.
“No.” She gasps.
“Was it because Daddy told you to?” I continue trying to think of every scenario. He looked too happy about the situation when I stood in his office and he forced my name to the paperwork. He didn’t act like Luca was buying me. More like he offered me. Maybe he and my mother had a plan that Luca didn’t know about.
She drops her eyes to the floor, and I raise a brow. “He doesn’t know.”
Luca didn’t tell me much information about it, but then again, I wasn’t exactly sure how much I wanted to know.
“You love Luca,” she finally says.
“And that makes this okay?” I ask, throwing my arms out to my side.
When she takes a step toward me, I take one back, matching it. “He can give you a life that we never could.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask confused. “You gave me a great life.” They weren’t overly affectionate with one another, but I never saw them fight or even argue. I was a spoiled rich kid who didn’t want for anything. Even after high school, I went on to college. I dropped out my senior year after Luca left me, but they never made me get a job. Nothing. I didn’t grow up in the real world. Mine has always been full of plastic cards that didn’t have limits. I had the best friends a girl could ask for. What could he possibly offer me that they can’t?
Her eyes dart around the room before she grabs my upper arm and yanks me into a nearby room. It has a rock wall that water cascades down into a small pool, and a black leather massage chair sits next to it. The sound would be soothing if I wasn’t so pissed.