From Lies To Loyalty novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Lauren

Reese

“Where the hell are you, Reese? I’ve been waiting here forever!”

Lauren’s voice cut through the phone like a siren, piercing my skull with that patented high-pitched urgency. I yanked the device from my ear, feeling my jaw tighten as my grip on the wheel locked into place.

The highway ahead blurred with red brake lights and distant headlights as I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and exhaled slowly through my nose.

“If you’d stop calling every three seconds,” I said deliberately, my tone calm though the tension in my chest simmered, “I might actually be able to focus on driving and get there in one piece.”

But my words seemed to set her off.

“We had an emergency landing in Chicago an hour ago, Reese! An hour ago! You were supposed to be there waiting when my plane landed! Why am I stranded here alone? Why would you leave me here?!”

I inhaled slowly through my nose, letting the air fill my lungs as though it could stop me from losing it completely. “I’m. On. My. Way.”

“Well hurry up!” Her voice pitched even higher, bordering on theatrics. “I’m scared.”

Of what? Oxygen?

“There are so many people here,” she continued breathlessly. “Someone looked at me weird. One of my nails broke. And my hair is literally falling out because of the cabin pressure. And I think I gained ten pounds from the cake they served—”

“I’m coming to pick you up,” I snapped, cutting her off. I didn’t need the ongoing catalog of misfortunes. Not today.

Her voice softened instantly. “Alright, baby. I can't wait to see you—”

I hung up before she could add another complaint.

The car felt too small for my irritation.

I let my head tilt back against the headrest for a moment, just long enough to breathe out a long, controlled exhale. Lauren was lucky she was a woman. If she weren’t, I’d have handed her a reason to invest in orthopedic equipment and a lifetime supply of ice packs.

Ever since I agreed to this arrangement—this absurd, strategic, mutually beneficial prison sentence—my life has been an endless string of interruptions, calls, and manufactured crises.

I had thought I could manage it, handle it all. But I was wrong.

Lauren White is a nightmare.

The tapes. The leverage. The revenge. None of it mattered now except as an anchor I couldn’t cut loose. It seemed like I'd never be rid of her, no matter how hard I tried.

Six months ago, I moved out of the manor.

Technically, I still had obligations, still had appearances to maintain. But I’d taken a penthouse in Florida.

An hour away isn’t much distance geographically. But psychologically, it’s everything.

One hour from that suffocating place. One hour from my father’s shadow. Not far, but far enough. Enough to breathe. Enough to think.

Still, Lauren treats the penthouse like it’s her personal annex.

I would bet every cent I owned that there had been no emergency landing in Chicago. No mechanical issues. No dramatic pilot announcement.

She just wanted attention. Or worse—she just wanted to be near me.

I pulled into the airport parking lot and killed the engine. Then I sat for a moment longer than necessary, staring at nothing, feeling everything.

My phone buzzed relentlessly. Lauren. I declined the call. Another buzz. And another. I just kept declining.

By the time I stepped out of the car, my phone showed thirty-seven missed calls. Thirty-seven.

“Jesus Christ, Lauren. Don't you ever stop?”

Because optics were necessary, I picked up the bouquet of red roses I had bought on the way—overpriced, dramatic, absurd.

She’d demanded them. “Bring flowers so everyone knows you care,” she had said. I had complied because sometimes it was easier to play along than to fight.

I stepped out of the car and into the terminal, the air-conditioned blast hitting me in sharp contrast to the Florida humidity.

The airport was alive, loud, a constant sound of rolling luggage, shouting children, and repeated announcements over the speakers.

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