Chapter 30

Levi.

The world faded into insignificance as we stood there on the beach. For a moment, there was no past, no secrets—just the two of us.

Slowly, Kenya pulled away, her breathing shallow as she looked into my eyes. "Last night changed nothing, Levi," she whispered, her voice carrying a chill that cut through the warm sea breeze.

I watched her expressionlessly, then a dark, knowing smile touched my lips.

“But it did, Kenya. You only need to accept it.” I reached out, my finger tracing the line of her jaw with a tenderness that belied the tension between us. I could see the conflict in her eyes—the battle between her resolve and the undeniable connection that had sparked into a flame the night before.

Her eyes widened, betrayed by a flicker of that very connection she tried so hard to deny. Without another word, she stooped to retrieve one of her earpods from the sand where it had fallen, then turned and walked briskly toward the house. She left me standing there, with nothing but the fading scent of her perfume and the echoing silence of the shore.

I returned to the house an hour later, only to be informed by Tamar that Kenya had gone out. She hadn't left word of her destination. A surge of irritation rose in me at her continued defiance, and I made a clipped, urgent call to Blake.

After a few minutes of impatient pacing in my study, my phone buzzed.

Blake: "Mrs. Ruthford is at her mother's residence. Arrived twenty minutes ago via cab. I have a detail nearby; would you like them to maintain an active watch?"

Relieved, I sent a brief reply to stand down but stay alert. Satisfied that she was safe, I headed for a cold shower, letting the water wash away the lingering heat of my frustration.

Kenya.

But he is not who he claims to be, a voice had shrieked in my head when Levi kissed me earlier.

The night before, I had allowed myself to get lost in him, to experience a depth of feeling I never knew existed. My heart had betrayed my reason. How could I live with a man who operated in such shadows? A man whose hands might be stained with the very justice he claimed to uphold?

"Sweetheart, you should be enjoying your honeymoon, rather than spending your afternoon hidden away with me," my mother teased, her whisper pulling me back to the present. She gave me a knowing look as the other five women in her living room chatted animatedly.

I managed a nervous smile, my eyes drifting to a vase of fresh roses on the side table. I had lost track of time, but I didn't care. Any moment spent away from Levi’s overwhelming presence felt like a chance to breathe.

It was Wednesday—the day of my mother's Bible Club meeting. They had just finished their study and were moving on to refreshments. I knew my mother was bursting to talk about my wedding, but I had practically begged her for discretion, citing Levi’s need for privacy.

I watched the women around us, all enjoying chicken sandwiches and coffee. I wondered how they would react if they knew the truth of my life now. I wasn't even sure I wanted their congratulations.

“Kenya, darling,” a voice broke through my thoughts. It was Mrs. Ramirez, a kind-faced woman who had become a close friend of my mother’s. “I saw your performance on television. The way you moved... it was absolutely explosive! You were magnificent.”

“Yes, Kenya,” Mrs. Fitzgerald added. “As soon as your mother told me you were visiting, I wanted to come and tell you myself. I wish you still lived here in Malibu; I’d ask you to tutor my daughter in a heartbeat.”

I forced a smile, my heart heavy. If only they knew the cost of that performance.

“Is it true you’re seeing Mr. Ruthford?” Mrs. Cliff blurted out suddenly. “The handsome Senatorial candidate? I saw a gossip column mentioning you two.”

A sudden silence fell over the room as every pair of eyes turned to me in anticipation. I fumbled for words, feeling the old urge to cower, to hide.

“Ladies, we aren't here to gossip about my daughter,” my mother intervened, sensing my discomfort.

But I wasn't a little girl anymore. A memory flashed in my mind—of being bullied on a playground, of running to my mother’s arms because I felt small and broken. I realized then that I had spent my whole life being an object of pity—the girl who struggled, the girl who was 'lucky to survive.'

I felt a sudden, fierce wave of resolve. I was a woman now. I was married, whether I had chosen the circumstances or not. It was time to stop running. It was time to find my leverage.

“It’s no problem, Mom,” I said, my voice surprisingly calm.

My hand went to my left ring finger, where I had turned the large, princess-cut diamond inward to hide it. Now, I turned it back, letting the light catch the brilliant stone.

“As a matter of fact, ma’am,” I said, addressing Mrs. Cliff, “we are more than just in a relationship.”

A collective gasp went around the room.

“As of yesterday, I became the wife of Levi Ruthford,” I announced. I felt a tremor of emotion, but I kept my head high. “We wanted to keep the ceremony private for a time, which is why my mother was so hesitant to speak.”

I turned to see my mother watching me with a mixture of pride and tears in her eyes.

For the first time in my life, I wasn't being looked at with sympathy or mockery. I was an object of intrigue, of genuine admiration. It was a strange, thrilling sensation. Even though I was still at war with my husband and the secrets he kept, a silver lining began to emerge.

I was going to carve out a space for myself in this new world. I was no longer just Kenya Anderson, the girl who fought for a spot at the back of the stage. I was Mrs. Levi Ruthford. I had a new identity, and I was going to make it an identity worthy of respect—and a position from which I could finally fight back.