Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
At me.
“Why, Nico?” she cries. “Why her? Why not me?”
I feel Nico stiffen beside me. “What are you talking about, Amélie? We ended things a long time ago.”
But she doesn’t hear him. “She doesn’t deserve you. She doesn’t even love you! Can’t you see that? She’s lying to you when she says she does. But I love you, Nico. I’ve always loved you.”
At that moment, everything seems to slow down. I look for our security detail and see James running toward us from the entrance of the building. I see Nico step between Amélie and me just as she fires the gun.
Two gunshots crackle in the air around us, but they are quickly swallowed by the noisy New York street.
James dives for her, tackling her to the ground before she can fire a third.
But the damage is already done. Nico sags against me before sinking to the sidewalk, his eyes wide and unfocused, a bright red stain spreading across his white shirt.
I scream.
Amélie screams.
Both of us screaming for different reasons.
But Nico is silent.
His eyes close, and within seconds, his chest becomes still.
48
Bella
There was nothing they could do, the doctor says.
Despite their attempts, Nico died in surgery, and they could not save him.
The doctor gives me the news in a private room. My husband died less than an hour after he was shot.
I sag against him and collapse to the floor.
The doctor helps me to my feet and guides me over to a row of plastic chairs, where I wrap my arms around my body and brace myself for the onslaught of media attention. Outside, the flash of paparazzi cameras light up the night as they jostle for an image of Nico De Kysa’s wife.
They don’t know that the king is dead yet. But the fleeting glimpses of my pain that they are capturing speaks a thousand words.
By now, there will be speculation that he has died, and the right picture of me is all the confirmation they’ll need.
And here I am, just in view of their lenses, giving it to them.
Exhausted, I lean forward and bury my face in my hands.
It’s been a chaotic night. So many things have happened. My life has flipped on its ass. Everything is different, and a series of events out of my control have given birth to my new world.
Nico is dead.
I rub my temples, not sure what that means for me. I’m dazed and unsure and shattered. I feel like a broken crystal vase scattered across the floor.
Nico is dead.
How am I supposed to get used to those words?
Imogen appears moments later and gathers me into her arms while I stare lifelessly at nothing.
“How am I going to do this?” I finally ask her.
She wipes a curl from in front of my eyes. “If anyone can do this, Bella De Kysa, it’s you.”
They take me to see him in the morgue.
It’s downstairs where it’s quiet, and no one can see me but the handful of morgue technicians. The coroner greets me. Somewhere in his fifties, he offers me an empathetic look before taking me to where Nico lies dead on a cold slab.
My legs falter as I walk toward him. He’s so still and pale. A sheet is pulled up to his shoulders, covering the bullet wounds that took his life. His face is sharp but slack. His hair combed off his face.
In death, Nico De Kysa is still beautiful.
I sit at a chair next to him and reach under the sheet to take his hand. His fingers are still warm, and it sends a small kick to my heart.
I raise them to my lips and kiss them softly. “I love you. I never told you that enough, I know that now.”
In response, he is silent. Unmoving. Dead.
I hear a noise behind me and know I am being watched. Not by the coroner but by one or two of the morgue technicians. But I ignore them as I lean forward and rest my head on my husband’s chest.
“I love you, Nico De Kysa. And not even death will change that.”
The days pass in a fog with excruciating slowness.
Plans are made. Pieces put in place to bury the man I love so desperately. My new life is forged in grief and pain in front of a world fascinated by the tragedy.
Amélie was detained at the scene but took another way out the moment she got the chance. A shard of a broken mirror. Her wrists. A lot of blood. A life over.
A search of her Upper East Side apartment revealed a deep obsession for Nico. She wanted to be his wife and hated me for taking him from her. High on pills and alcohol, she finally snapped. She wanted me dead, but instead, she ended Nico’s life.
By the morning of his funeral, I’m exhausted.
“You’ve got this,” I whisper to my reflection in the mirror over the sink.