Twelve Nights with the Ruthless Billionaire: His Christmas Captive

Nine

Lisa POV

I opened Zara's door and found her standing beside her bed, tugging at the tucked corners of her sheet. A wet patch spread across the center of the mattress, and she was struggling to roll the damp fabric into a ball.

"Zara, what are you doing?" I asked gently.

She stopped and turned around. Guilt flickered across her face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, keeping her eyes on the floor. "I wet the bed. Grandma said only babies wet the bed. Don't tell her."

My heart went out to her.

I knew she could not help this. Grief had already turned so much of her little world upside down, and now she was standing there afraid that one more thing had made her a baby in Grandma's eyes. The last thing she needed was for me to make her feel smaller.

"Accidents happen, Zara," I said, reaching down to unhook the elastic from the bedpost. "Bodies get tired and forget to send signals while we sleep. Let me help you clean up and put the sheets in the laundry."

She watched me, her shoulders slowly dropping.

"You aren't mad?"

"Not at all," I said, handing her a corner of the sheet. "Help me pull this side."

Together, we stripped the soiled bedding and put it in the laundry hamper. I grabbed a fresh set of sheets from the closet, wiped down the mattress protector, and helped her with a bath.

By the time we were done, the panic in her eyes had faded.

When it was time for breakfast, I made a conscious choice to avoid the dining room downstairs. The dream I'd had earlier bothered me, and the thought of sitting across from Omarion, making eye contact while he ate, was too much to handle. I stayed upstairs in my bedroom instead, relieved I'd managed to dodge him.

I ran into Patricia in the hallway near the nursery supply closet later that morning. I didn't see our jobs as a competition, so I decided to approach her directly about Zara's afternoon schedule.

"Does Zara have any set plans for the afternoon?" I asked, keeping my tone friendly.

Patricia shrugged. "Mr. Montgomery has the driver take her to her private art and pottery session in the city every afternoon at one o'clock. She stays there until six."

"Thank you," I said, writing the time on my notepad.

It gave me the window I needed.

A five-hour block gave me enough time to take a taxi to Capitol Central Hospital. I stepped into the hospital room and found my mother sitting upright in bed, flipping through a magazine. Color had returned to her skin, and her monitors showed stable numbers.

"Mom," I said, stepping closer to the bed. "How are you feeling today?"

She set the magazine down, but she didn't smile.

"Seriously, Lisa? How is it okay for you to leave your mother here knowing my condition, and keep sending your friend to check on me instead?"

Here we go again. Not even a "how are you doing?"

"I've been running around for your hospital bills, in case you've forgotten there's a thing called weekly dialysis."

She closed her magazine and didn't take her gaze off me, making me very aware that she was watching me.

"And Benny? Why is my son still in that cell?"

I loved my mom for giving birth to me, but other than that, she could be quite obnoxious and very unrepentant about it. I ignored her and placed the fruits and toiletries I'd gotten her in the corner.

"What's taking you so long? Didn't you assure me that funny-looking boyfriend of yours is doing something about it?"

For once, I agreed with her bashing Tyler. He deserved every bit of disrespect from her or anyone else.

"I'm working on it, Mom. I paid the retainer for a defense lawyer, but the police are stalling the paperwork. It takes time."

She scoffed and threw her hands up. "He's nineteen years old! He's sitting in a concrete room while you take your sweet time. If Linda were here, your brother would be home already. Linda always knew how to handle things when we needed quick cash."

I was close to reminding her that Linda was dead as a result of "always knowing how to do things the faster way," and that most times, I was the one who suffered the consequences and cleaned up the mess.

I'd spent my life playing the adult. We never knew our father, and Mom had always favored Linda because she embraced the lifestyle Mom taught her, using her body and charm to get money from wealthy men.

When I refused to live like that, I was mocked for going to college to study early childhood education, because building an honest living was, in my mother and Linda's words, going to keep me high and dry forever.

I tried everything to keep Benny from following the same path, but when Linda died and Mom's health started failing, Benny believed my teaching salary couldn't cover her dialysis. Out of sheer desperation, he tried to make money through dangerous people and ended up behind bars.

"I'm trying my best, Mom. The least you can say is thank you. Do you know how much of you being here is costing me?"

"Well, thank you, my dearest hardworking, decent child, for doing your job. But the fact that Benny is still in that cell is quite disappointing. You always look down on us with your teaching degree. But where is all that pride getting your brother if you don't have connections to get him bail?"

"It doesn't work like that," I said, sitting in the visitor's chair.

"Why not? You are a woman, a beautiful one at that. You just don't care enough to do what needs to be done. And bring me my perfume and makeup kit, with nicer dresses. The gowns here are depressing, and I want to feel beautiful again."

"Of course," I mumbled.

Always an endless list of demands.

She didn't even know what I was doing to get the money, or whether I was fine. Jasmine's mom would have found out that her boyfriend broke up with her, and that she was working over the holidays just to stay afloat.

I swallowed the guilt that came with resenting my family. I loved my family, but trying to carry them on my back was draining me, especially when it was met with such ungratefulness.

***

Francesca Vance sat in her office two blocks from the courthouse. She was a criminal defense attorney with ten years of trial experience, short dark hair, and a no-nonsense attitude that made me trust her more than that sleazy Paul.

"The bail application was denied," Francesca said, setting a manila folder on her desk, giving me an apologetic look.

Shit.

"On what grounds? He's nineteen with no prior record."

"The prosecution framed him as a flight risk. It's obvious the people he allegedly stole from are pulling strings behind the scenes. They want Benny and his two friends trapped in that cell for reasons that have nothing to do with stolen merchandise."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"Because the guy who actually stole the goods is walking around the city free," Francesca said. "They're not going after the real thief. They're pinning everything on Benny and his friends. If we want to break this, we need leverage. I know a team of private investigators who can dig up dirt on these people, but it'll cost ten thousand dollars."

I sighed.

My quarterly payment would come in tomorrow, but I didn't want to seem too eager to pay, in case she assumed I had more than enough money to spare.

"I'll have the money for you before the end of the week," I said.

After leaving her office, I picked up a bag of food and supplies from a nearby shop before heading to the holding facility to see Benny.

He sat across from me at the metal table, dark circles under his eyes and his shoulders slumped inside an orange jumpsuit.

"I brought you some food and everything you need," I said, setting the plastic bag in front of him.

Benny pulled out the container and devoured the food in rushed bites. "How much longer am I stuck in here, Lisa? I haven't even had a real court date yet. It's unfair."

"I know, Benny. I just met with your new lawyer. We're fighting it, and you're coming out soon. I promise."

Benny wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and scoffed. "Why did you fire Paul anyway? Paul was a guy. He actually understood how the streets and the cops work. This new woman doesn't know how to handle real business."

I rolled my eyes. "Francesca is doing more for you in two days than Paul did in two weeks."

"I'm just saying," Benny muttered, staring down at his plastic fork. "A man knows how to deal with other men in this system."

"She's hiring private investigators to get you out," I said, cutting off his argument. "So hang in there. I came straight from the hospital."

Benny looked up, his tone softening. "How's Mom? Is she okay?"

"Her numbers are stable," I said. "And as usual, her only concern is you. She spent ten minutes yelling at me because I haven't gotten her golden boy out of jail yet."

A proud smile flickered across Benny's face before he caught himself. As the only son, he was Mom's favorite, and she doted on him no matter what trouble he got into.

"She loves me," Benny said, leaning back. "She loves you too, Lisa."

"Right, by not asking how I was doing?"

Benny looked down at his lap, guilt crossing his face. "I'll make it up to you, Lisa. I swear."

I checked the clock on the concrete wall and felt panic rise. It was already past five. I needed to get back to the estate before Zara's schedule ended at six.

I slid a roll of cash across the table for his commissary account. "I have to leave now. Keep your head down. I'll visit you again soon."

Benny took the money and nodded with a tired sigh. "Thanks, Lisa. Get home safe."