Page 123 of The Compass Series

My hope, dream, and greatest wish was to one day take on Jeff’s last name and be his wife. But first, it appeared I had to make a last-name stop as Blackstone. A name extremely fitting for a man whose spirit was just as dark and personality cold as stone.

The next morning, I awakened to the doorbell ringing. Jeff grumbled and pushed his pillow over his head to tune out the sound. “Get that,” he muttered before rolling onto his side.

Out of the two of us, it was clear I was the morning person. To be fair, Jeff spent most of his nights DJing until the sun rose. He excelled with the moonbeams as I danced beneath the sun.

Still, the sun was hardly up as the doorbell rang repeatedly.

I slipped into my morning robe and poop emoji slippers that Jeff bought me for Christmas last year and headed to the front door of our duplex. I didn’t know why, but Jeff thought the slippers were the funniest thing in the world. They were comfortable, no denying.

To my surprise, I found the one person I thought I’d never see on my side of town.

“Catherine.” I tightened the belt on my robe as bewilderment hit me. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Stella. I was hoping we could talk.”

I glanced at the grandfather clock sitting in my living room. “It’s only five thirty in the morning.”

“Yes, well, you can imagine I haven’t been sleeping much lately.”

“Understandable, but how did you know where I live?”

“Let’s not do the small talk thing. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” She glanced back to her car parked on the street. “Is my car safe in this neighborhood?”

I chuckled a little. “It stands out a bit, but it should be fine.”

She grimaced as she took her key ring and locked it repeatedly, making a loud beeping sound echo shoot down the block.

“If you want, we can talk in your car?” I offered, knowing that she’d lose her mind if even a mere scratch ended up on her car that cost more than my home. “Besides, Jeff is still sleeping, and I wouldn’t want to wake him.”

A sigh of relief fell from her lips as she nodded.

“Yes, well, I suppose that’s all right,” she huffed, seemingly annoyed by the whole situation, even though she was the one who showed up unannounced to my home.

Grams had a very solid rule about uninvited guests: keep the doors shut and the curtains drawn.

“No one should show up without an invite to one’s home. That’s invading their haven,” she’d always say. “And if they do that, they will cross all of your boundaries without a blink of the eye.”

We walked to her car, and I climbed into the passenger seat. Once we were both seated, Catherine locked the doors a total of four times. “Just in case,” she said.

I simply smiled. In her mind, a gangster was probably going to stab her in the side any minute now.

Her eyes fell to my poop emoji slippers when I crossed my legs, and the look of disgust overtook her. If anything, Catherine did not have a poker face.

“They were a gift from Jeff for?—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, cutting me off. “Your fashion sense is not why I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh. Okay. Well… what is it?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“What for?”

“For how I treated you in the past. I want to apologize for that. I was distraught and not myself. I’ve done a lot of therapy over the years and changed. For that, I’m sorry.”

“Wow, Catherine. Thank you. That’s very?—”

“Anyway, I need you to make sure Damian chooses me for the best stepmom payout,” she cut in.

I laughed because she couldn’t be serious. Then again, the serious stare in her eyes made my chuckles dissipate. “You’re not joking?”

“Not at all, no. I deserve it. I pretty much raised you more than any of those other women.”

The Devil works hard, but Catherine works harder.

“So, you came out here just so I could talk Damian into picking you? You didn’t really care about apologizing?”

“Of course not,” she said without thought, then she realized her slipup and shook her head. “I mean, of course that’s not the only reason. I do care about you.”

It looked like the hardest thing for Catherine’s lips to say.

“Just do it, Stella. If I’m honest, you don’t deserve a cent of my husband’s money. You aren’t his family.”

“He was always like a father figure to me. And you are his ex-wife.”

“But he wasn’t your father. You don’t even know your father, and you can thank your mother for that, but you can leave Kevin out of your twisted fantasies. He was my husband, not yours.”

“Don’t ever speak about my mother like that,” I hissed, my heart rate rising as her words stung my ears.

Catherine had enough nerve to spit on her name.

I could handle a lot in life. I could handle the insults people shot out about me, and I could handle others’ judgments, but speaking against my family was a line I refused to allow them to cross.

Catherine parted her lips with a comeback but must’ve chosen against it. She cleared her throat. “Just promise to choose me. Or better yet, null the whole agreement, and Rosalina, Denise, and I will split the money. I know you don’t want it. It’s for the best that the three of us get the payout.”

“And Damian? What about him?”

“What does it matter what happens to him? He’s nobody to us. He can go back to whatever bridge he crawled out from under.”

That gut instinct hit me quickly as I thought back to the conversation I shared with Damian.

What does your word mean?

Catherine nudged the paperwork toward me, and I hesitated.

“Just do it, Stella. You’re a strong woman who works for what she gets, so I know you wouldn’t want a handout, anyway.”

“Yes… that’s true, but I can’t do what you’re asking. And I won’t disregard Kevin’s final wishes.”

“Why in the world not?”

“I already gave Damian my word.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Last night, I spoke with him. I told him I’d go along with the arrangement.”

“Who cares what you told him? Your loyalty isn’t to him, Stella.”

I shook my head. “I can’t go back on my word.”

“You can’t be serious right now,” she asked, flabbergasted. Her brows rose, and I swore I almost saw steam shooting out of her ears from her anger as her face turned the deepest shade of red. “Stop being ridiculous, Stella!”

I unlocked my door and opened it. “I’m sorry, Catherine. I truly am, but I gave him my word.”

“You are a gold-digging fool! I knew I should’ve never trusted you. I raised you! You know what? Go to hell, Stella, just like your mother.”

I knew that last dig was due to her being upset, but it still stung.

After I climbed out of the car and closed the door, Catherine peeled her tires in her rush to leave.

I stood outside, taking a few deep breaths, shaking off the words that the upset woman delivered about my character and about my mother. I wouldn’t take that energy into my home.

Nothing she said held any truth.

I knew myself.

I wasn’t a gold digger.

I wasn’t a monster.

And my mother wasn’t in hell.

If anything, Heaven had a special section carved out for Mama and her heartbeats. I hoped so deeply that Kevin was right beside her, too.

When I crawled back into bed next to a snoring Jeff, my phone dinged.

Damian: Meet tomorrow at the scone bakery. My lawyer will be present to go over the final details.

It appeared that Catherine wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been sleeping lately.