If I Break: Beautifully Broken Part 10

"So what I am supposed to do? I don't want to hurt either of them. I don't want me to be the reason they hate each other more than they already do."

"Then don't be that reason. Be the reason they come together."

"I don't understand," I ask, confused.

"My advice to you is to not be romantically involved with either until they start the process of integration."

"Yeah, well, that will be easy when Cal isn't here," I mumble.

"When he is Lauren. You can't sleep with him," she says, looking me directly in the eye. I push my hand through my hair.

"That's a lot easier said than done," I admit. I've never had a good track record of turning him down.

"Well you can sleep with both of them but it will only create division amongst them and result in neither of them being willing to release control to the other, so if you're fine with living like that..."

"I get it," I sigh.

"Now this isn't going to be something that Cal will particularly like."

"You think?" He's going to go bat s.h.i.+t.

"But you have to stand your ground. Cal is stubborn and manipulative but he loves you. That's your biggest weapon."

I nod.

"And as far as whatever Lisa has to tell him. We will deal with the aftermath of that once it happens," she says sullenly.

"Chris's friend Aidan said that what she has to tell him could have been what caused Cal to exist."

I see her eyebrow raise.

"I'm sure whatever she has to tell him isn't the original triggering event," she says skeptically.

"It is possible it is though, right?" I ask her, and for the first time her eyes glance away from me.

"Of course, anything is possible." And it hits me.

"Do you know what is? What caused this to happen?"

"I can't discuss that with you Lauren," she says quietly.

"Are you kidding?"

"These things have to be handled delicately."

"Then what did you call me for? If you're not going to help us?"

"I am going to help you, there are just so many things involved with this."

"And why didn't you tell Chris when I had Caylen?" I ask, my anger starting to rush to the surface.

"Can you at least tell me that?" I say sternly. She folds her hands together and looks at them before meeting my gaze.

"Because if we told Chris there was a very strong possibility that Cal would resurface and at that point it wasn't best for anyone."

"What are you talking about? It wouldn't have been best for me to have the father of my child with me during my pregnancy?"

"There are things you don't understand. You don't know all the factors involved in our decision. Please just trust me."

"Trust you?" I ask indignantly. Everyone wants me to trust them while they know everything and I know nothing.

"Everyone wants me to trust them, but no one wants to trust me," I say, leaving the office. I'm proud of myself that I don't slam the door. I round the corner and swiftly head towards the stairs when I b.u.mp into someone else rounding the corner.

"I'm sorry," I say as the hand grips my arm. I look up and see an older man in maybe his early fifties with dark chestnut brown hair and one silver streak through it. He's tall and his presence is almost intimidating though he hasn't said a word.

"It is always my pleasure to b.u.mp into a beautiful woman," he says, his voice smooth, I imagine like an expensive cognac, the kind of man that seems like he could buy your life in a second without thinking twice. He lets go of my arm, a knowing smile spreading across his face and a cold chill makes its way down my back.

"I was just leaving," I tell him as I try to make my way past him.

"Lauren Brooks...or Scott now isn't it?" I turn back around and see him standing, or positioned is the better word, his hands crossing each other in front of him.

"Have we met before?" I ask. I see Helen appear, walking towards us swiftly, a nervous smile on her face.

"Mr. Crestfield, I didn't know that you'd be in town. Dexter didn't mention anything. Lauren was just leaving."

"Dexter Crestfield, Sr.," he says, extending his hand out to me without giving Helen a glance. I glance back at Helen whose eyes are avoiding mine. I cautiously extend my hand to him.

"Would you mind if we have a little chat?"

"Lauren has somewhere to be, Mr. Crestfield," Helen interrupts.

"I'd only need a few minutes of your time. I think it's about time I meet the granddaughter I've heard so much about," he says coolly.

Dexter Crestfield Sr., who I remember is my in-law.

Dexter's office is twice the size of the one Helen was in. All dark colors and paneling, not much natural light coming in. It feels like the rest of the house, stoic and ridiculously expensive. One thing that seems out of character is that his desk is filled with pictures, some looking like they date back to the early 1900's. Several are of Dexter Jr. and I notice one that looks like a young version of Mr. Scott and him...and Chris.

"I apologize that it's taken us so long to meet. I have been out of town on business," he says as he settles into his desk. He must have been out of town a lot, seeing as I never met him the entire time Cal and I were together. I also don't know why he'd feel the need to meet me.

"I can understand why Cal took such an interest in you," he says, his eyes giving me a once over and I feel more uncomfortable than I already am.

"Christopher is my favorite of the two, I must admit. You always know what you're going to get," he says bluntly.

"Tell me. What is it like to love someone who are two separate ent.i.ties?" he asks and I wonder why I am even sitting here with this man.

"I'm sorry Mr. Crestfield but I'd like to know why you asked me here. I know that you are a man whose time is important and I'm sure I'm not here just for you to catch up," I say, s.h.i.+fting in my seat. He smiles at me and rests his elbows on the desk.

"Christopher is like William. He's honest, a man that plays by the rules and who has values. Plagued by his conscience," he chuckles.

"He's not fond of me. That's something he gets from his father as well," he continues, as if I didn't just say anything to him.

"Cal on the other hand. He's unpredictable, stubborn, and calculating. As if he was born from my own genes. He fit right in," he says, picking up a picture of Dexter and surveying it.

"Family is so important. There is absolutely nothing I wouldn't do to protect my family and the ones I love. Even if it is from themselves." The Crestfields are like no other people I have met. You never know what to think of them. You can hate and detest them but they have an air that demands respect.

"I wanted to speak with you personally. Since we've never had a proper introduction," he says, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over one another.

"Thank you, but this really wasn't necessary," I say, sweeping a stray hair from my face.

"No, it actually is very necessary. Now that you are aware of our little situation," he says, letting out a light breath. What situation's he talking about. Me knowing about Cal's disorder?

"I think it is important that you understand the resources that you have available to you should you need them."

"Resources?"

"Your husband. Cal held a very important position with my company and aside from that he is my family and I like to keep things internal, so to speak." I feel my eyebrows raise. I have no idea what he's talking about.

"Dr. Clemons," he says simply and then it resonates-that was the woman that Christopher saw for treatment.

"She won't be seeing Christopher as a patient anymore. He's only to see Helen."

"Excuse me?"

"It is in the best interest of the family which you are now a part of. I trust you understand the sensitivity of information that not everyone can know."

"I'm sorry, but you can't be serious? Chris can see whatever doctor he chooses to. This isn't a matter of your company, this is his life," I say, completely taken aback at the audacity of the man in front of me.

"Helen is the best in her field and has the best team. He would be in no better hands," he says simply.

"You can speak to Christopher yourself but I believe that his choice was made for the very reason you want him to see Helen." He sighs and stands from his desk.

"I apologize, I don't think you understand. Let me clarify things a little further. Your penthouse on Michigan, is in one of my buildings. The Scott's farm and house is on my property. The land your Aunt Raven owns could easily be purchased. Your friend Hillary works at a company that is a subsidiary of...well I'm sure you can infer. Just so that you know. My best interest is in your best interest."

I feel my throat starting to constrict. A chill crawls down my spine. What the h.e.l.l did Cal do for this man, why would he be blackmailing me?

"I think we have an understanding?" he reiterates.

"Can I go now?"

"You don't need my permission," he laughs condescendingly. I stand up and get to the door as fast as possible.

"Oh, and Lauren." I stop in my tracks but don't bother to turn around.

"It was a pleasure meeting you."

chapter 11.

Chris I've never been the type to play games. I never had the time to. When Cal started to take over I didn't really have a choice in enjoying life. I didn't date, I was too busy being in sessions and trying medications. Everything was put on the back burner: going to college, my music, my dreams. The only thing I wanted was to just be normal, to stop losing time. Then, I didn't know about Cal, that he was living life for me, doing G.o.d knows what. When I found out about Cal and met Lauren it was hard knowing that all of these things were happening to me, but it seemed important to know. I was afraid of knowing but each moment that came back to me I felt a little more connected, I understood him a little more, and I hate it, but what I saw last night didn't make me feel connected or understand him, I feel disgusted.

He had a man kidnapped. I don't know what the h.e.l.l he's been doing or why. Why was he looking for this Clay guy? Did he find him, and what happened if he did? I feel like I have a lot more to be worried about now than how many women he screwed. What exactly was he involved in?

That's what drove me here, back to Chicago, waiting for Dex to come out of his building. I had to wait two hours but I soon see him emerge in one of his thousand dollar suits, his phone in his hand.

"Dex!" I call out as I jog to catch up with him. He glances back at me, he looks bored, like seeing me isn't a surprise.

"What brings you to Chicago?"

"We need to talk," I say adamantly.

"I have a lot to do today Chris. I don't have time for the soap opera that is the Scotts' lives," he chuckles but when I grab him by the arm, this time he does look caught off guard.

"Who is Clay Rice?"

His eyes narrow in on me before he tries to s.n.a.t.c.h his arm away but I don't let it go. He needs to see that I'm serious, that this isn't one of those times for going on and on with his metaphorical diatribes.

"This is a Brioni," he says condescendingly before pulling away from me and rubbing out the print I left on his suit.

"Is there a problem Mr. Crestfield?" Two big men have appeared behind me. Dexter sighs.

"No problem gentleman. Christopher I have some time to kill before my next meeting if you'd like," he says, gesturing towards the car he gets into. I get in behind him and once the door is shut he immediately grabs a bottle of scotch and begins to pour himself some.

"How do you know about Mr. Rice," he says, swis.h.i.+ng the liquid in his gla.s.s.

"I remembered Dex. And I want to know what the h.e.l.l did you have me doing for you? Did you have me as some type of henchman?"

"Lower your voice," he says.

"Tell me!" I shout.

"I had nothing to do with you and Clay Rice. That was all you, my friend," he says.

"Did he...did I hurt someone? Is that what you meant that day you came to my house?" I ask cautiously. Dexter takes a deep breath.

"Don't let your conscience eat you up yet. You have nothing to be guilty over as of now," he says, staring at the gla.s.s in his hand.

"What do you mean 'now'? Who was that guy?" He pauses a moment before taking a deep breath.

"Clay Rice was the man that was with your mother when she was killed." The word sounds foreign to me. My mother, the mother I think of is Gwen Scott with long red hair and a smile that makes your problems go away.

The woman who took care of me for as long as I can remember, who's back home in Madison with my daughter. But after a moment the thought creeps in, one that never creeps in much with me. That though Gwen's my mother, she's not my biological parent, and the fact that my name wasn't always Scott. It was Rice, a fact that should stick with me, but never has. I remember the day when I was ten years old that my parents sat down with me and showed me my birth certificate and asked if I had any questions, if I wanted to talk about my feelings.