HER SECRET REVENGE

A COMPLETELY UNPUTDOWNABLE AND NAIL-BITING PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER

COLE BAXTER

BOOKS BY COLE BAXTER

His Secret Child

Her Secret Revenge

The Anniversary

Also Available in Audio

The Anniversary (available in the UK and the US)

PROLOGUE

I watch the couple in the huge estate house. The person I have my eye on is drinking again, they do that a lot. The room’s décor of fancy-looking furniture – pricey – is noticeable in the lit-up room.

I glance up to one of the upstairs windows and see a woman. She’s on the phone, wearing a nice dress. The curtains on the window are thick, but open, making it easy for me to see in. The place is like a monument to wealth. I can see all kinds of antiques and paintings through the various windows.

A moment later an older person appears in a downstairs window. I wonder if they are a housekeeper or a relative? It doesn’t matter. I continue to set up my trail cameras around the grounds. As I get closer to the house, I notice my target looks frail and puny. I could crush them in moments. They are like a bug, an annoyance. But I plan to bide my time.

My eyes are drawn to the upstairs window again. The woman is beautiful, but I can see she’s all business. She’s so pent up and wound tight that she reminds me of a bomb, ready to pop at any moment. I’d hate to be here when that happened…

She isn’t the one I am here for though. It’s the wimpy-looking drinker I’m after.

The person who has taken everything from me.

The one who is going to pay for what they’ve done to me.

With their life.

ONE

ANNA

I gritted my teeth. At times it was hard looking at him, let alone anything else.

“You said you were done with it,” I said, trying to rein in on my temper and failing.

“What? Having fun?” Paul countered.

That snarkiness, that devil-may-care attitude as though he didn’t do anything wrong, only infuriated me further.

“You promised you wouldn’t do shit like this anymore,” I insisted.

I was sick and tired of having this same argument over and over with him. Is it a sign of madness that I do it anyway?

All the same, Paul always did shit like this. He acted impulsively, without any regard to others, as long as it was ‘fun’ for him, and damn the consequences, damn if he hurt me in the process.

This was precisely why I wanted to leave him in the first place, yet he was always there with another excuse or sad look, convincing me to give him another chance.

Why did I bother?

“Anna, why are you acting like this?” he countered. “It’s my money too.”

He must have really wanted to piss me off.

“You cannot spend mutual money, thousands of dollars on a weekend trip to Vegas,” I stressed.

He just packed up and left, muttering something about going away for work, and I bought it. That was how big of an idiot I was.

“More to the point,” I continued, “you lied to me about where you were going in the first place.”

I only just found out the truth, and it certainly hurt me. And that was on me, that I still allowed this man to hurt me. After all these years, I really should have known better.

“It makes me wonder what else you lied about.”

Part of me was glad I was now going through this. It was obvious that I needed to be taught a lesson. That I should have trusted my instincts months ago and kicked him out of the house for good.

It was pure luck that I found a bank statement because, in the past, Paul had the tendency to hide those and delete them from the joint email so I wouldn’t see how much money he spent on things, how much of the mutual money he spent on himself. Never on me.

I allowed him to seduce me today, although I was tired from work. It has been a while, so I relented. About halfway through, I realized I definitely wasn’t into it anymore, no matter how much I tried. Part of the problem was that Paul didn’t try at all. It was all about the quick release for him, and that was that. If I wanted an orgasm, I had to take care of it myself.

So, while he blissfully snored beside me, I grabbed my phone and started scrolling on social media, and then a notification from the bank popped up and I decided to check it out.

And there it was, right on my digital banking page, an outgoing payment for thousands of dollars I knew nothing about. It was a debt I knew I hadn’t made. It was easy to put two and two together after seeing that.

Son of a bitch. Although that was not technically true, his mother was lovely. But the notion remained the same. He tricked me. He lied to me, again. I couldn’t believe he did something like that to me after he promised. After he swore on his mother he would change, and be better.

Then again, he promised a lot of things to me, and broke every single one of those promises, shattering my heart in the process.

At least he is consistent, I thought. Yet I couldn’t really find comfort in that.

“What else have you lied to me about?” I repeated since he remained silent.

“Nothing,” he insisted. “I didn’t lie to you about anything.”

“Paul,” I warned.

“I only lied about this because I knew you would react like this,” he said defensively.

“Like what?” I snapped in return.

“Like I did something horrible. Like I committed a crime or something.”

I couldn’t believe it. That is his defense? “So now it’s my fault? I am to blame for you lying? I asked incredulously.

“I had no choice.”

“How about not going to Vegas, not spending our money on it, and not lying about it,” I said, feeling ridiculous I had to state the obvious.

And who were you there with? The question was on the tip of my tongue. Was it the usual guilty party, his best friend Dean, or was there someone else?

“You are acting ridiculous.”

“And how should I react to all this?” I questioned. “Pretend it didn’t happen? Let it slide?”

“How about showing some understanding? I begged you to go on vacation with me. You blew me off, like you always do. You’re always busy with that damn bakery. I had to go and blow off some steam. You know I am under a lot of pressure, constantly stressing about everything,” he tried to defend.

I gritted my teeth because he was trying to sell me a lot of bullcrap and nothing else. “We are all under a lot of stress, Paul. It’s called being an adult. You should really try it sometimes. And that damn bakery, as you put it, is what keeps us afloat.”

He shook his head. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

And now I should feel sorry for him? Not a chance. “You are absolutely right. I don’t understand. Then again, I don’t have to.”

“What do you mean?”

It means I am done with you. “Well, considering this is your mess, I expect you to fix it.”

“What mess? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

I gave him a look. “You took the money from a mutual account without consulting me. You know we were saving that to put into the bakery, you promised me.” He practically stole it as far as I was concerned. Stole it and spent it on gambling, strippers, and God knew what else. “I need you to put it back. That money was only supposed to be touched for emergencies until we figured out what we were doing about remodeling the bakery. You’ve got to put it back.”

Paul made a face as though aghast by what I just said. “Why would I put the money back?” he challenged. “That’s my money too.”

“It’s our money,” I repeated as though speaking to a child while feeling like we were running in circles without any true understanding. “It’s our money that you spent on personal pleasure. You took our savings and spent it on a trip to Vegas. You promised me we’d save that money to expand and remodel the bakery as an investment in our future.”

He shrugged. “I already explained why I did that.”

No, he hadn’t. However, I was done arguing about that.

“I really don’t care,” I interrupted him before he could start lying again because I knew he would. “I just want the money back. At least my part of it,” I offered, feeling like that was more than fair on my part. “If you don’t have it, you could borrow it from your mom and pay her back.”

Unfortunately, I was the only one thinking that my solution was fair.

Paul crossed his arms over his chest. “No. I am not paying anything, and I’m not asking to borrow from my mom,” he said as he dug in his heels.

Looking at him like that, he resembled a petulant child. Although he knew he made a huge mistake, he would rather die than admit it.

“Just, no?”

“Yes. I have no intention of returning the money because it was mine.”

His money. Not our money. Only his.

I shook my head. “This was such a mistake.” I knew that now. I wished I’d known it sooner. It would have spared me a lot of grief.

“What was the mistake?” he asked, clearly not being able to track my train of thought.

“Staying with you,” I clarified. “You are the same selfish bastard you always were.” All the promises made had no merit. Paul only cared about himself and nobody else. And I was the idiot for thinking otherwise. My grandmother was right. I was making all the same mistakes my mother had. At least I didn’t have a child I was pawning off on her like mine had. I pursed my lips and shoved the thought away.

“And you are a cold-hearted bitch,” he snapped in return.

That used to bother me. When people, but mostly Paul, called me cold-hearted. And perhaps to some, I appeared that way. But I had to be. Somebody had to act like an adult around here because if I didn’t, if I allowed Paul to do whatever he wanted, we would end up homeless pretty quickly.

So, I wasn’t going to apologize for doing what needed to be done. That was how I had earned everything that I had. That was how I managed to open my business and keep it, all these years no matter all the struggles, all the problems. And yet, in his eyes, that was something bad. In his eyes, I was constantly the bad guy.

“Thank you,” I countered, and really meant it. “Thank you for reminding me why I wanted to leave you in the first place.”

He scoffed. “Here we go again. Every time you don’t have it your way, you threaten me with a divorce.”

“I’m not threatening, I’m merely stating the facts,” I insisted.

I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes all over again. A couple of months ago, I’d really had enough of his overspending, laziness, and selfishness, and decided to kick him out. Naturally, he returned with his tail tucked between his legs a couple of days after, begging me to reconsider, and pleading with me to give him another chance. And since I was a world-class idiot, I agreed to put the divorce on hold and see if there was a chance our marriage could be saved.

I’d made a huge mistake letting him return to the house, instead of going through with the divorce, I knew that now. Now I understood perfectly why he wanted to return, and it wasn’t because of his huge love for me, but love for himself.

He clearly didn’t like staying with his mom. Because then he couldn’t sleep around, I thought bitterly. And this way he could spend the money from the mutual account as though it was his own.

“I cannot speak to you when you get like this,” he said theatrically, before throwing his clothes on and storming out of the house.

That was so typical of him when he knew he was losing an argument. And the only reason he was losing was because even he was aware he’d royally fucked up. Unfortunately, the knowledge he might be doing something wrong never stopped him from doing exactly what he wanted anyway.

So, he had to run away from me. He always did this when I gave the slightest bit of criticism; he couldn’t stand when others pointed out his mistakes, so he would run away. Like the coward he was. Like the child he was. I let him. I was done fighting.

It wasn’t my fault he was lacking the part of the brain that should control his impulses. And I was done trying to be that part for him because it brought me nothing but pain and sorrow.

After twelve years spent with him, I realized I had nothing to show for it. All the fond memories, all the fun times we’d had, were so sparse and happened such a long time ago that I felt like it happened to someone else, with somebody else, because most days I couldn’t even remember the person I married.

Then again, perhaps that person never existed. Perhaps it was merely a construct of my mind while I was deeply in love with him.

He constantly rubbed my nose in the fact I had changed a great deal since we got married. And that was probably true. The problem was he didn’t change with me. He remained exactly the same, and perhaps that was great when we were young, but these days, not so much.

That was precisely why it was important for me to move on and stop allowing Paul to drag me into his shit.

I was tired of living this life with him when I knew I deserved better. When I knew I deserved a man who would be a true partner to me, someone I could always rely on, and not waste my time on this man-child I was stuck with.

I was exhausted from constantly having to be the bad guy because I wouldn’t allow him to have any “fun,” as though I liked constantly making sacrifices. However, “fun” didn’t pay our mortgage; it didn’t keep the roof over our heads, and “fun” didn’t put food in our fridge. And it was sad he couldn’t see that. That he couldn’t understand.

I was done having to be the adult in this relationship while he did all that he pleased. From now on I was going to put myself first. I was going to take a page out of his playbook and care only about my needs from this point forward.

And now, after twelve years, I had come to realize that my marriage was over, no matter how scary that might seem.

I had to put that part of my life behind me and carry on all by myself because when all was said and done, one thing remained uncovered as the ultimate truth – I fucking deserve better…

TWO

PAUL

“Thanks for letting me crash here tonight. Anna is in one of her moods, and I just had to get away, you know?”

Dean, my best friend, nodded at that as he handed me a can of cold beer. He always knew exactly what I needed. In other circumstances, as in, if he grew tits and a vagina, he would be a perfect wife.

“Thanks,” I said, opening the beer and taking a satisfactory drink from it. I sighed in contentment. That felt good, especially after the day I’d had.

“Of course, bro, my couch is your couch,” he said, crashing on the recliner, opening his can of beer, and drinking from it.

That was life as far as I was concerned. He was so lucky he didn’t have an old ball and chain dragging him down. I should have never married, came a thought. It ruins relationships.

Anna used to be super fun, loving, and full of understanding, but marriage changed her. She became distant and cold, and grumpy all the time. And no matter what I did, she always found fault.

“You want to talk about it?” Dean asked after a short pause.

I shook my head. “I most definitely do not want to talk about it, because it’s the usual bullshit.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

“You, my friend, are on the right path. Being single is the way to go. That is the best. You have no wife who wants to control you. You have no girlfriend pressuring you into marrying her. You’re free to do whatever you want, whenever you want,” I ranted.

“Yeah,” Dean said, making a face, although I didn’t understand why.

I truly meant what I said. I was a fool, a fool in love when I asked Anna to marry me. That was a mistake.

Although I had to admit not all was bad, sex was still great after all. But I am an artist, a free spirit. So, all that settling down, starting a family was not for me.

Once upon a time, I believed Anna was just like me, that we were kindred spirits, that we could be free together. We’d met in college, where I’d been doing what I loved, painting, and she’d been taking business courses with a dream of owning a bakery. She’d achieved her dream, and I’d been nothing but supportive, but I was still working on mine. While I’d continued to be a free spirit, she’d become a cold and calculating businesswoman. I’d been so sadly mistaken. She was just like the rest of them. Always asking for more, always demanding perfection.

I also hated when she threatened me with divorce. I knew she would never actually go through with it. For all of her nitpicking, she wasn’t a quitter, but it still irked me she would say something like that. Especially since she knew how much I detested ultimatums. And this was just that. If I didn’t behave, she would kick me out.

Well, I wasn’t leaving. That was my house as much as it was hers, so if she had a problem, she was the one who needed to leave. I felt the irony of that, considering I crashed at Dean’s; nonetheless, this was only for the night. I needed to cool off.

“So, she found out about Vegas, huh?” Dean guessed.

“Yeah, she did,” I replied reluctantly.

I still had no idea how she managed that. I thought I was being careful. I threw away all the bank statements that came through the mail before she could see anything.

Still, she found out and decided to blow it all out of proportion.

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing, let her cool off a bit.” Like always. Besides a few dirty looks, everything would return to normal, tomorrow.

“In other words, you are going to apologize to Anna tomorrow.”

I was looking at the TV, Dean had put some game on, and I nodded. “I probably should,” I admitted.

And that was it. End of our bro talk.

We drank a couple of beers in the next few hours, watched the game, and then Dean went to his room so we could both get some sleep. We were working in the morning.

The morning came too quickly, and it was hard for me to get up. And not because I had to sleep on an uncomfortable couch. This wasn’t the first time I’d fallen asleep at Dean’s hiding from Anna or while we drank and played video games. It was because I definitely had one too many, and now my head was killing me.

It was certainly not the same as when I’d been out drinking in my early twenties. Not that it would stop me, I joked.

After I showered with cold water, hoping it would help with the hangover, Dean lent me some clothes so I wouldn’t go to work in the same clothes I was in yesterday. We had a new manager, and she was a real pain in the ass about that kind of stuff.

Although I worked in front of the computer all day and had no interactions with clients, she still expected us to look our best. It was pure idiocy if they asked me. Sadly, they didn’t.

“Want to carpool?” Dean asked while we were on our way out. We worked for the same firm. That was how we became friends in the first place.

“Naw,” I replied instantly. “I’ll need my car after work.”

“Oh yeah, to go home and kiss ass,” he jibed as he started to make kissing noises.

I rolled my eyes at him.

He was always extra annoying in the morning. Dean was undeniably a morning person. He was at full capacity, ready to give one hundred percent from the moment he opened his eyes.

On the other hand, I was not. I would much prefer to sleep late and go to work around ten; sadly, I was never given that choice although I asked multiple times.

The work was dull and numbing as always. I hated working for these corporate jackasses who couldn’t recognize true talent, true art, even if it hit them in the face. They only cared about the bottom line, about profit, which, for a marketing firm, wasn’t that hard to imagine. And they had me working on art for a line of baby products, so it was even more annoying. Every time I saw that chubby baby, I was reminded of Anna’s nagging that we should start a family.

I would like nothing more than to quit. Have my own unique Jerry Maguire moment, but I couldn’t. This job was what paid the bills after all, although I felt like I was extremely underpaid. And this was what sustained my true passion – painting.

I had always wanted to be a famous painter and live in Paris, but my bad luck prevented me from fulfilling that dream. I’d had horrible art teachers back in college. I’d not been able to go where I’d wanted because money had been tight after Dad died, and I’d had to settle for attending the state college, which apparently only hired hacks. You know the old saying those who can’t do, teach? Well, all of my so-called teachers had been those who couldn’t, and most of the time they couldn’t even be bothered to give feedback. Still, I persevered, despite them. My art was my life. Of course, that didn’t pay the bills, and while I was struggling along just fine, Anna had insisted that I get a job to help out.

All the same, I wasn’t giving up. One of these days I would finally have my own show, here in New York, and people would recognize my talent. If I had that kind of support, I would build a following, become a hit, maybe even become famous, and sell my landscapes for a ton of money. That would allow me to leave this stupid job. And finally, start living my life to the fullest and not continue wasting away, spending my best years for nothing.

At precisely five o’clock, I turned my computer off, although I still hadn’t finished my projects, and left. They didn’t deserve me working overtime, because I had someplace to be, and that was far more important to me than some arbitrary deadlines.

I decided I wouldn’t go home just yet. Anna would only give me the silent treatment, send daggers my way as though I did something bad, and I really didn’t need that today. So, I decided to give her some space, as I had somewhere else to be.

The nice little tattoo parlor was empty as I walked inside with the bag of groceries, and I took it as a great sign. Marianne, the beautiful tattoo artist, smiled as she saw me.

I smiled in return. “Have some time for me?” I asked as I set the bag down. She’d said her last grocery delivery had been messed with, so I tried to bring her things when I came to see her.

Without a word, Marianne jumped into my arms and kissed me passionately. Her soft lips met mine, and all my frustrations just melted away. It was the kind of kiss people write songs and novels about.

My whole body responded immediately. I wanted Marianne like crazy. Always had, no matter how many times we ended up in bed. It was that kind of intense attraction, all-consuming, crazy, that could not be denied.

Ever since I met her, about six months ago, I felt this insane pull toward her, an attraction I could not ignore. And blissfully, it was completely mutual because as much as I wanted her like a man wanted water in the desert, she wanted me back with equal force. I’d tried for that with Anna, but all I got in return was criticism, and nagging. It was so nice to be around someone who actually wanted to be with me.

We kissed for a while like that, in the middle of her shop, before I decided we needed to continue this someplace a little bit more private. I needed her naked, and now.

Luckily, her small apartment was right above her shop, so one quick trip later, we were rolling into bed. It turned me on to no end that I could do that, carry her around, since she was on the petite side. It made me feel strong.

We were pretty loud as we surrendered to our passion, and I loved every second of it.

I patted her flat stomach, in post-coital bliss. I didn’t want to move from that spot, ever. I couldn’t be moved even if I wanted to.

I truly needed that. And Marianne looked like she needed it too.

“I really like this one, is it new?” I asked as I traced a specific tattoo with my index finger.

She had a lot of tattoos covering her body, but most impressive were the full, colorful sleeves of butterflies that she drew herself.

Yet the one I was speaking about was a small thing around her navel. It looked like an intricate web of thorns and leaves. It was interesting, beautiful, and despite the thorns looked light and delicate.

“New-ish, but it’s not done yet. I am trying something new,” she explained.

I admired that about her. The ability to just do something, no matter what it was, no matter if she would regret it later on. I wished I could be more like that, more like her. I knew I would be much happier that way.

I continued to explore her body to see if there was something else new that I hadn’t seen before. And unfortunately, there was. It was not a tattoo, but a bruise. I instantly knew what that meant. She saw him again.

“Is that from me?” I asked all the same, knowing that sometimes during sex I didn’t know what I was doing, or if I was holding onto her too tightly. We sometimes liked things a little rough, but this looked more serious.

Marianne shook her head, looking away.

As I suspected. That bastard of a husband of hers, Cameron.

She was in the process of leaving him, yet as it turned out, that was a pretty long process. Although I really could not understand why. He was a true piece of work, and she would be better off without him.

“You need to get away from him,” I said like I had many times in the past.

He was constantly gaslighting her, verbally and physically abusing her, trying to control her, not to mention she suspected he had cheated on her, even though he professed her to be his one true love. The guy was a user and had no morals, which was precisely why she managed to say “fuck you” and get out of that relationship, which I approved.

Unfortunately, Cameron didn’t like that and was constantly trying to intimidate her into returning to him. And I really wished she wouldn’t because she deserved someone who would take better care of her, and respect her.

To be perfectly honest, I could not fathom why anyone would cheat on such an amazing woman. She was perfect in every way: beautiful, funny, smart, talented, not to mention amazing in bed.

“I am trying,” she replied, making a face, going on the defensive as though I was attacking her, which was not what I was doing, at all. I was concerned.

“You know I am here for you,” I said, stroking the contours of her face.

“I know, and I have to admit that having all this revenge fucking with you really helps me detox from him,” and she kissed me again, deeply.

Can I squeeze another go before leaving? I wondered, doing some calculations in my head, which was hard while having her tongue in my mouth. That was not the only thing that was hard as it turned out.

I definitely can, I decided.

“You know, we can find a place for us to live together once we are both free, after you divorce Cameron and I divorce Anna,” I offered, pulling my shirt over my head.

That way we could have all the sex we wanted without stopping to go home.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, molding herself against my body. She was only in her lacy underwear, and it drove me crazy.

“You know I love spending time with you, but I want to have my own place from now on. I can’t repeat all the same mistakes, going from one guy to the next.”

“Ouch.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I understand.” But I was sure she would feel differently once the dust settled.

“Have you spoken with Audrina?” she asked, changing the subject.

Audrina was the owner of one of the hottest galleries in New York; artists would kill to have a showcase there.

I sighed. “Her gallery doesn’t want my landscapes.”

“Maybe you can work on something else then,” Marianne offered, and I made a face. She didn’t understand it wasn’t just that simple.

“I refuse to become a sellout. Landscapes are my thing, and I am sure my time will come, with or without Audrina,” I replied firmly.

She kissed me softly on the lips. “I believe you.”

And at times like this, that was the best thing my girlfriend could say to me. Even if my life outside of her arms was a disaster, at least here, it was perfect, and I could have everything I could ever want.

THREE

PAUL

Driving home after my afternoon rendezvous with Marianne, I couldn’t help but think about my life. More accurately put, I couldn’t help wondering what the hell was wrong with the women in my life.

Does she even love me anymore?

Even though I knew she’d change her mind, Marianne had created this barrier between us today. Finding out she didn’t want to commit to me once we were both single had left me with a hollow feeling in my chest. I was completely committed to her. She was the only woman in my life who mattered, but apparently, that was not enough.

I couldn’t believe she shot down the idea of us living together so quickly. She already decided I was going to be her next mistake, and that was not fair, especially considering I haven’t done anything wrong.

I couldn’t understand her. What kind of a woman didn’t want to live with her boyfriend? Wasn’t that a clear sign that our relationship was true, and evolving? I thought women loved shit like that.

Does she have someone else? came a sudden thought that I discarded immediately. I knew I was the only man she was seeing. Besides, between Cameron constantly pestering her, our secret meetings, and her job, there really wasn’t much time left for anyone else in her life. That was comforting. Yet the question still remained the same: what was the problem? Why didn’t she want to commit to me? Doesn’t she love me?

I knew she liked me, I corrected, so what was her deal? I thought in frustration. Between her aloofness and Anna’s hissy fits, I simply could not understand women at all. I was giving my all, and yet that was clearly not enough.

Maybe she doesn’t believe I am serious about divorcing Anna, I realized. Of course I was. It was just that the timing needed to be perfect. Besides, divorce laws could be pretty tricky. I didn’t want to end up paying her alimony, or whatnot, for the rest of my life. Thank God we at least didn’t have children. She would certainly end up with our house if that was the case. That was why I had to wait a little bit longer, so I could find the perfect lawyer to deal with it all. The problem was lawyers cost money, and I didn’t have much. Apparently, Marianne couldn’t understand that.

To make matters worse, the list of infuriating women in my life didn’t stop there. There was another, Audrina, and she was a major pain in my ass. She was the only woman in my life who really didn’t like me. And I couldn’t understand why that was the case. I had always tried to show her I had nothing but respect and admiration for her. She had made it after all. She was super successful and made tons of money. She knew all the best artists in the business, and I could learn so much from her if she’d only give me a chance.

She’d seemed nice enough when we first met, but now she turned pretty cold whenever I was around. I’m not sure what I did to ever offend her. Maybe she’s jealous I’m sleeping with Marianne and not with her, I mused.

Audrina had been the one who introduced me to her in the first place. They’d been friends since they were kids. It baffled me at times that those two were actually friends. Audrina was so upper side, and refined, while Marianne was a bohemian who liked to party. Then again, Audrina was good friends with my wife, a baker from Soho as well, so perhaps she had eclectic taste where people were concerned.

I first met Marianne at one of Audrina’s exhibitions. Anna had dragged me to it, as Audrina was her college roommate, but I’m so glad I let her. Between the snooty art patrons and the canapés, there was Marianne, looking like a vision with her soft, auburn hair and worn leather jacket. I went mad for her. It was a miracle I didn’t start kissing her then and there in front of everybody.

And I knew Audrina was aware I was with Marianne. Even though she was friends with Anna as well, she remained discreet, which I appreciated. At the same time, I wished I’d known sooner that she fancied me. I would have greased her wheels, so to speak, ages ago if that was the ticket for me having an exhibition at her gallery.

Would it be awkward if I told her that could still happen? I thought, if Marianne didn’t want to commit to me, maybe I could feign innocence. Unfortunately, I had no answer to that. She was really hard to read, which didn’t happen to me often. Women were usually pretty easy for me to read. I understood what made them tick.

Audrina was the exception.

All the same, no matter her motives, I knew she was the reason I couldn’t have an exhibition in New York. Not just in her gallery, but anywhere else in the city. She’d literally said I’d never find work in the city. She had blacklisted me, which was infuriating.

I had to wonder why she didn’t want me to sell my paintings, why she didn’t want me to present my art. I knew I was good. All my teachers told me so. I was always praised for my impeccable techniques.

I once overheard Audrina say something about how my paintings, although done immaculately, were completely low-effort and low on imagination. I didn’t take offense. I knew she said that because she didn’t like me.

With that remark, she presented herself in a poor light, demonstrating how narrow-minded she truly was. And that she couldn’t recognize a true talent even if it was right under her nose. That much was obvious. Audrina also cared only about the money, the profit she could accumulate from commissions.

And I refused to paint by the latest trends. Because trends came and went, yet real artists remained true to their craft. True painters always had their niche, where they felt most inspired, where they felt most at home. And landscapes were that for me, and I wasn’t about to betray that for anybody. I was going to stick to it no matter what because I knew it would pay off in the end. It had to.

What the fuck am I going to do in the meantime? Because money didn’t grow on trees, and I seriously needed it. I made a face. That was why I had a regular job: because I needed money. A job that I hated. Staying at that meager job, doing things I hated, was eating at my soul, but what other choice did I have?

When Anna and I first married, the deal was for her to work in her bakery and for me to focus on my art, and create my landscapes. Sadly, that didn’t last long before she was criticizing my work and forcing me into a nine-to-five. She never truly believed in me, but I would show her. I would show everybody, once I became famous.

Unfortunately, that couldn’t happen overnight. It required sacrifices, and change. I was no idiot. I knew there were some things in my life that needed to change; the problem was I didn’t know how to change them.

I couldn’t simply quit my job, because Anna wouldn’t support me. She would kick me out and I had no place to go. Marianne wouldn’t take me, especially at the moment, while she fought with Cameron.

And although I knew my mom supported me no matter what, I was aware she wouldn’t understand either, if I just abandoned everything and focused solely on painting and making it big. She was a bit old-fashioned like that.

All that meant I was stuck in the life I was leading, pressured from all sides. I was boxed in without any means of getting out. Struggling in life was no fun at all.

I parked the car in the garage and braced myself for Anna’s icy stare. As it turned out, she wasn’t home, which surprised me since it was pretty late by then. Where is she? I knew she couldn’t be in her bakery, still.

Is she having an affair? I thought angrily. That would be so rich coming from her, giving me grief when she was also seeing someone else. Then again, perhaps I was rushing to conclusions.

Maybe I shouldn’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth, especially if it meant I had a moment of peace all to myself. I opened the fridge and grabbed myself a can of beer, realizing I was actually starving, but there was nothing to eat. And I didn’t feel like making myself a sandwich.

I remembered how, once upon a time, there was always something waiting for me when I got home. Anna used to make all kinds of delicacies for me, not only pastries but real meals. She was a great cook.

Over time, she stopped. She stopped taking care of me. She stopped caring. Things used to be so good between us and that definitely changed with time. And I still didn’t understand why.

After twelve-plus years of marriage, I could honestly say that Anna had changed so much I couldn’t recognize her anymore. And I wasn’t talking about physically, although she definitely didn’t care about herself on the same level as she used to. Like when we were dating, she always did her hair and makeup, and wore sexy clothes for me and heels, now she was usually dressed down to work in her bakery, and she didn’t do her hair and makeup except for rare occasions. But I was speaking about her character, her personality. That changed so much, it was like living with someone else. Someone scary. Someone I didn’t like living with.

The biggest problem was that she didn’t look at me the same way she used to. I didn’t see love and devotion in her eyes anymore. Now, she was angry all the time.

And she definitely stopped supporting my art. She wasn’t even trying to help me out anymore; she wouldn’t even speak with Audrina about my art. She stopped caring about me completely. Not to mention how she constantly complained about everything, blaming me for everything. It wore me down to the point that I’d start doing whatever I wanted – if I was going to be talked down to regardless, I might as well have some fun in my life.

Even if she wasn’t aware of it, I knew that her behavior had nothing to do with me. She became an extremely unhappy person. And her lashing out at everyone around her was a symptom of that. Yet, for the love of God, I didn’t understand why she was so unhappy when she had everything. Most people would give anything to have what she had.

Anna had her own small business; she owned a bakery in Soho. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. She was her own boss, which was a dream; I knew that better than most. She lived in a nice house that we’d inherited from her aunt and was married. Apparently, that wasn’t enough for her.

So now she was once again threatening me with a divorce. Maybe I should beat her to the punch, I mused. God knew I didn’t want to stay married to a person like her, who clearly cared only about herself.

Especially since I had Marianne now. Who doesn’t want to commit to me, I reminded myself with a frown, finishing my beer.

Getting to the living room, I noticed the answering machine was blinking. I really had no idea why we still had that thing. In this day and age, only telemarketers and bank creditors left messages.

And my mother, I grumbled.

I prayed with all my heart it was my mother because I couldn’t deal with any additional stress in my life. I was spread thin as it was. It wasn’t easy getting only bad news all the time.

I pressed the button to listen to it.

“Hello, darlings,” my mother greeted in her usual manner. She was under the false impression that Anna and I were happily married.

“Paul, darling, I am afraid I have some sad news to share with you. Your uncle, James, passed away. And since he had nobody other than us, we need to meet to discuss funeral arrangements. Oh, and his attorney called me. We are expected to attend the reading of the will. I am very saddened that this happened, and so suddenly. Call me when you get this.”

That was the end of the message.

James died. I took a moment to decide how I felt about it.

I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with all those responsibilities. God knew I already had enough on my plate. Then again, it would be nice if my dear old uncle left something for me.

It had been years since I’d seen him, but I remembered he’d lived in a massive house that I’d thought was a palace when I was a kid. Maybe he’d had some leftover cash he left me in his will? Wouldn’t that be nice?

I immediately called Mom back.

FOUR

ANNA

I knew that Paul and his uncle weren’t that close. I’d met James only a couple of times in the twelve years we’d been together. And looking at Paul I couldn’t decipher if he was sad or glad that his uncle died.

I knew I was awful thinking like that. Of course, he was saddened that his father’s only brother passed away. However, I was certain there was a part of him that was barely containing his excitement. Because a death in a family also meant an inheritance. And although I wasn’t familiar with James’s financial circumstances, I knew he owned a house, and that he had no children.

I was sure Paul grieved this loss in his own way. No matter his many flaws, or deep issues between us, I knew that deep down (deep, deep, down), he was not a bad person. Simply extremely childish and flaky. Which was fine for a boyfriend, terrible for a husband.

And I blamed his mother for that. Although I adored Noreen, she was one of my favorite people in the whole world; always so kind and good-natured, she spoiled him. And I understood why. She lost her husband pretty early in the marriage, so Paul was the only thing that was left behind from that love. He became her whole world. The problem was that Paul was aware of that, and definitely took advantage of it, constantly.

Once I learned that Uncle James died, I started thinking about my own family. About my grandmother, who had passed away years ago. I was very attached to her, my mother’s mother, Nanna Marigold, in a way that I never was able to connect with my mother. And something she told me still resonated with me.

I wished I had listened to her when she warned me to be very careful about whom I married. Because a decision like that could have far-reaching consequences. And she was right.

Marriage is a very serious matter, so choose wisely, she used to say. You don’t want to end up with the wrong person, like your mother. And she was right. About my mother, I mean. My father was a kind man, in his own way, but he was weak and hopeless, unable to deal with struggles in life, leaving everything up to my mother. I still remember my mom’s sleepless nights spent worrying about bills, about how we would pay for my school books, about when my dad would decide to come home. It was almost a relief when he left.

And Nanna was definitely right about Paul. Like my mother, I chose the wrong person. I married Paul because I was infatuated, and deeply in love with him, blind to all his flaws, blind to see that he would never be a partner, only a burden.

I was an idiot. I still was, because I stayed in a dead marriage.

I wished I had this wisdom while I was younger, then perhaps things could have been different. Perhaps I would have made better decisions for myself. Perhaps life would have been better. Difficult, all the same, because no life was perfect; however, with a better man I was sure all the struggles would be handled better. And in equal parts.

That was the most important thing, to have a person beside you who could share the burdens, and not be additional dead weight. And that was Paul to me now, nothing but dead weight.

He constantly complained about how his life was difficult, but there was nothing difficult about it. He had a great job; he had a boss who tolerated all his quirks. He had a loving mother. And once upon a time, he had a loving wife as well; however, he definitely fucked that up.

He was unhappy because he hadn’t succeeded as a painter. He blamed lack of inspiration, or my friends blackballing him, but I knew what his real problem was. He didn’t want to succeed because then he couldn’t blame everyone else, the whole world, for his shortcomings. He’d have to realize there was no one to blame but himself.

He could have been great at it if he wasn’t so damn lazy. He didn’t even have enough paintings for an exhibition, but he still dared to whine about how nobody wanted him.

“What is the matter with you two?” Noreen asked, snapping me from my thoughts.

I had been so lost in my head for a moment, so wrapped in my arguments with Paul, that for a second, I completely forgot where I was.

The three of us, Paul, Noreen, and I were in a limousine, on our way to the funeral. Noreen insisted that we rent a limousine for the ride, as though getting to the cemetery in a cab was somehow beneath us. All the same, I wasn’t complaining since she was paying for it.

“What do you mean, Mom?” Paul asked in return, playing dumb.

I knew what Noreen was talking about, as did Paul. And she knew that we knew. And yet it was imperative to keep up appearances.

“You’re both so tense. Just looking through your windows. You haven’t said a word to one another since entering the car,” Noreen pointed out.

She had us there. Then again, I had nothing to say to Paul. He disappointed me too many times to merely forgive and forget. And the only reason I came here today was out of respect for Noreen. All the same, it was hard to look at them together because in her eyes Paul could never do anything wrong.

Since we both remained silent, Noreen continued, “Did you have a fight again? Paul, I told you many times that for a happy life, you need to have a happy wife.”

“We are fine, Noreen,” I tried to reassure her.

I promised Paul that I would play nice in front of his mother. He loved her very much and hated disappointing her. Noreen regarded marriage as something sacred (until death do us part, and things like that), so he knew she would take it hard, knowing something was wrong.

I told him that lying to her about the state of our marriage wasn’t the way to go and that she would learn the truth eventually, as in, when we finally filed for divorce. Nevertheless, he begged me to keep quiet until then. And I did because I loved her too. She was a sweet old lady, and I really didn’t want her worrying, and quite unnecessarily at that, about us.

We were broken beyond repair.

Noreen made a face as soon as I said that. Apparently, I was not that good of a liar.

“Don’t try to fool me, I know perfectly well what fine looks like.” She said the word with extreme detest. “You know how unhappy it makes me when the two of you don’t get along. You are all that I have left in this world.”

And I knew she genuinely meant that. It was merely that she had a major flaw, a major blind spot, if you will, where her son was involved. He was perfect in her eyes. He had no flaws. He could do no wrong, no matter what. Perhaps that was that Italian blood in her, coddling her male offspring to no end. And I was sure that would be the case until the day she died.

“Everything is all right, Mom,” Paul said in exasperation. “Just marriage.”

It was obvious how annoyed he was that his mother was speaking about this in the first place. That was Paul all right, ignore all the problems in the hope they will go away, disappear on their own. Yeah, right.

Noreen shook her head, muttering something under her breath. She said it so subtly I couldn’t even decipher if it was in Italian or in English. At the same time, it was plain what she thought about it all, that her son was full of crap. I almost smiled at that.

“So do we know what will happen to the estate?” Paul asked, abruptly changing the subject.

I was relieved. I hated being scrutinized by Noreen. At the same time, I was curious to learn about the inheritance as well. James Mason owned a pretty big house in upstate NY. And as far as I knew, he had no children, no heirs. He never married, so Paul was as close to a son as he could ever have. It would be reasonable to expect that Paul would be one of the heirs.

Then again, he was a quirky man as I recalled. There was a chance he gifted it all to some charity.

I had to admit, I was really hoping that James left something to Paul, because as his wife, considering we were still legally married, I was entitled to half once we divorced. God knew we could both use the money.

Paul would squander his half like he always did, and I would invest my share in the bakery. It could use a few upgrades and a few new appliances. I stopped myself from daydreaming because I was in jeopardy of going too far. First, I had to see if Paul would even inherit anything.

Unfortunately, to get that money, if he got it in the first place, I would have to continue being married to him, at least for a little while longer. And I really didn’t like that idea. I wanted to be done with him, for good. God knew he wasn’t going to repay me the money he took from me out of the goodness of his own heart.

I truly wanted out of this marriage as soon as possible because I was starting to feel like I was drowning, and if I didn’t save myself, and fast, I would perish. Each day felt like I was simply prolonging the torture, especially while knowing he didn’t care about our marriage one bit.

Although I had no proof, yet, I suspected he was cheating on me as well. He constantly stayed late at work, and I knew he hated working overtime, or he was spending time with Dean, which was obviously a cover story.

And he simply stayed put with me because he didn’t have anywhere else to be at the moment. And staying with his mom wasn’t an option. Paul wouldn’t be able to live with his mother knowing how much she was disappointed in him that we split up.

If Paul did in fact get money, or the house from James, then I would definitely stay a little longer with him, so I would be entitled to half of it. Life required sacrifice after all. After everything that man had put me through, half of some inheritance was the least he owed me.

I was thirty-five and childless because of that man. I deserved better.

That was why I decided that as soon as I was done with this funeral business, I would go and speak with my attorney. I need to know how to proceed, and when. The timing was everything, which was precisely why I wasn’t sure if I should file for divorce just yet or wait a little bit longer.

I was sure my lawyer would advise me about the best course of action all the same. Although I was sure he would tell me the same thing I knew already. That I should wait and see if Paul would inherit anything from his uncle.

And I didn’t feel guilty one bit. Paul owed me after supporting him, and his art, for a freaking decade. He wouldn’t even have a job if it wasn’t for me. He was quite content to have me provide for the both of us, while he waited around for inspiration, and painted one landscape per year, wasting his time on video games and drinking in bars.

Once I finally put my foot down, he agreed to get a job. He didn’t put any effort into finding one, however, so it was a good thing I already had something that paid well lined up for him. A creative job in a marketing firm, which most people would have been over the moon to have. And he still constantly complained and grumbled about how much he hated it, but at least I managed to get him out of the house. That was all that mattered to me.

As we reached the cemetery, I was surprised to see only a few people were present at the grave site. They were an odd-looking bunch, but then I suppose James always was an eccentric.

Noreen greeted them all, so I figured those were James’s friends, or colleagues. Although I had no idea what James did for a living. If he worked at all.

Noreen had organized a small reception afterward, so I figured most people decided to come only to that without having to witness this macabre ritual of placing the casket in the ground.

As the priest shared a few inspirational words, I looked about, wondering how all these very strange people knew James. One in particular caught my eye, lurking in the shadows, away from everyone. Even from a distance, I could see his bedraggled facial hair and filthy clothing. Of course, he wasn’t any odder than some of the others there. Still, I wondered about the strange man, because there was something that seemed familiar about him.

“Do you know who that man is?” I asked Paul discreetly.

He shook his head. “No.”

I couldn’t stop glancing his way. He kind of looked like Paul, I realized. He was a thinner, grimier, and homeless version of him, but I could plainly see the resemblance. For some reason that disturbed me more than the fact we were at a funeral, saying goodbye to Paul’s uncle.

I knew better than to say something along those lines to Noreen. She would take offense. Her Paul was completely unique as far as she was concerned.

“Maybe that’s someone Uncle took care of,” Paul said a few minutes later. It was obvious he, too, was intrigued by the sight of that man.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I replied somewhat impatiently. It was stupid we were discussing a stranger at a time like this. “It’s clear he’s some homeless man expecting to receive some charity.”

“True,” Paul replied simply, as we focused on the priest.

Despite trying to pay attention to the scripture the priest was reading from, I could feel the man’s eyes burning into my back. I wasn’t sure if I was just being paranoid, but I had a feeling the man who looked like Paul knew exactly who we were.

FIVE

PAUL

“Damn tie,” I grumbled, as I struggled to correctly tie the stupid thing.

Once again, I had to put my suit on, which I hated, considering I wasn’t some corporate clown, because I was meeting Mom so we could go to some advocate’s office for the reading of the will.

I hoped that since it was mandatory for me to be there, it meant Uncle James left me something. Unless he wanted me to witness him giving it all away, out of spite for not visiting him more.

I removed that thought from my head because it was unhelpful.

“Come on,” I continued to stress.

Usually, I wouldn’t bother with it all, but Mom insisted we needed to look our best today, so here I was, looking ridiculous, and feeling even more so.

Anna was properly dressed and ready to leave; she didn’t move a muscle to come and help me, just sat in the living room, waiting for me. Although, I had no idea why she needed to come with us in the first place. It wasn’t like one of her relatives died.

Then again, perhaps she was trying to be supportive. She was sensitive to things like this. I remembered how much she cried when her grandmother died.

At the same time, despite what happened, things around the house didn’t improve in any way. We were pretending around Mom that we were still a happy and loving couple, but Anna wasn’t trying that hard to sell it; she couldn’t sell happy, even if her life depended on it. While we were technically functional, we were otherwise a complete disaster.

She barely spoke to me anymore, clearly still sulking, and angry about Vegas. I didn’t care, I had to put my foot down on that one. I spent my money, and since it was my money, I could do with it whatever I pleased, no matter if she approved or not. And it was frustrating as hell she couldn’t see that. Sure, we’d both put money into the account; obviously, she’d put in more than me because she made more from the bakery, but that was both our money, not just hers. I’d used a good chunk of it, but I deserved it for putting up with her nagging and criticism. Having to listen to her was like a full-time job, and I deserved compensation for that.

So, I let her be. Perhaps she would realize on her own, although I wasn’t holding my breath.

The big deal would be if Marianne and I got married in one of those cheesy chapels, which we almost did. We got so drunk, and so intoxicated by the pure atmosphere of Vegas, with all the people around us, happy, smiling, and having a great time, that we almost did it, as a joke.

Luckily, Marianne stopped us in time.

And we didn’t even spend that much money, all things considered. We could have spent much more if I were to be honest, but I paid attention. And still, Anna was upset with me. I really couldn’t win with her.

And the worst part was that I would never say a word to her if she decided that she needed a break and went to a spa or something with her friends. I would just say, great honey, good for you, you deserve it, and that would be that.

Unfortunately, Anna wasn’t like me. She had to get upset and cause a scene.

“We’re going to be late,” Anna said to me from the other room.

I gritted my teeth. Telling me we would be late was of no help at all. Helping me tie the damn thing would be helpful. I really could not count on Anna for anything these days.

That was why I decided to abandon the tie. Fuck it. Mom would have to accept me without one. And that was that.

“Let’s go,” I said to Anna on my way toward the front door.

Maybe she decided to tag along because she knew Mom would be there and was just keeping good on her promise to play nice in front of her. That really surprised me. Anna mostly acted like she hated me now, so I couldn’t figure out her motives for keeping that one promise when she broke everything else.

Not that I would spend sleepless hours pondering it. With some luck and a few extra dollars from a dear old uncle, I would be able to get rid of her for good. I would hire the best lawyer who would make sure I would be treated fairly in the divorce. Because, frankly, men were always fucked in such proceedings.

I only wanted the house and half of the money from the account. I thought that was fair, considering she had her bakery. I wouldn’t ask for half of that. I thought that was more than generous on my part.

The lawyer’s office, which was dealing with my uncle’s will, was on Long Island. It wasn’t too shabby looking, I had to admit. I wondered if they dealt with divorces too. It wouldn’t be too bad killing two birds with one stone.

One short conversation with the receptionist later and we were sent to the right office. A man clearly in his sixties introduced himself as Nolan Morgan.

I noticed that he shared his surname with the firm, which meant he was one of the top dogs. I wondered if he was one of Uncle’s close friends and if that was the reason he personally dealt with this. Besides the lawyer, the only three people inside were Anna, Mom, and me. I took that as a good sign.

Then he started to speak, about all the legalities and technicalities, and I had to start paying attention. Luckily, Mr. Morgan didn’t waste any time and started reading the will that Uncle James wrote in his own hand.

“The house, and all the assets connected therewith, including accounts and holdings at NYB,” the lawyer read the amounts down to a single cent, and I had to admit it was a very decent nest egg, “I leave to Paul.”

Did he just say my name? Since both Anna and Mom looked at me, he must have.

“I hope you’ll manage it well,” the lawyer continued to speak, droning on about something or other.

To be fair, I stopped paying attention once I learned I got it all. I could see joy on Mom’s face, and Anna looked stunned. I wondered if she now regretted treating me so badly. I smirked.

To say we were all collectively stunned that Uncle James had left me all that he had would be an understatement. We were shocked, dumbfounded. In my case, that was shortly replaced by pure joy. I got the money and the house. I couldn’t believe it.

What made it more unbelievable was the fact we weren’t even that close. I saw him only a handful of times in the last couple of years, maybe less.

He had this ritual for his birthday, a big barbecue followed by mystery games, but come to think of it, I believe I skipped the last few. It was boring role-playing with a bunch of old people, pretending to be world-famous detectives or whatnot, trying to solve a murder. That was probably the last time I saw him, and that was years ago.

I looked at Anna to see how she took the news. Since I got the house from my uncle, should I leave the other house to her in the divorce? I wondered. One thing has nothing to do with the other, I decided.

Anna looked thoughtful. I looked at Mom. And she was quiet at first. She clearly needed a moment to process that I was the sole heir. Once she recovered, and realized what an amazing thing this was for me, she was her usual chatty self as we left the lawyer’s office.

Before we left, Mr. Morgan reassured me it would take a couple of months for the probation period to be over, and that he was going to inform me once I became a rightful owner of the house. I hated that I had to wait so long to get the money. Then again, I should feel lucky I got it in the first place.

“I have to say, I am delighted by this financial windfall. I am truly happy for you, Paul,” Mom said to me as we walked toward my car.

And I knew she actually meant it. Yet, at the same time, I wondered if it should be kind of weird for her too. I knew she was really close to Uncle James, especially once Dad died, so wasn’t she bummed he didn’t leave anything to her? Uncle James was clearly honoring their friendship by leaving everything to me, her son, I realized.

All the same, I found it weird she could be happy for me, while in mourning. As I said, she really cared about him. Then again, people were complicated and able to feel all kinds of opposite emotions at the same time.

I, too, was glad I got the money and the house, although I was saddened Uncle James died. As I would be sad if any human being passed away. But what could I do? It was his time. And besides, he wouldn’t want me to be too sad. He knew I should live my life to the fullest. That was precisely why he left everything to me.

Mom waited until we were all settled in the car to start talking again.

“You know, Paul, with this inheritance, perhaps Anna and you could finally relax a little, and start making babies,” she said all enthusiastically.

That was all she ever talked about, that was all she cared about. My mom wanted grandbabies like crazy, and that really irked me. Why couldn’t I be enough for her?

I glanced at the backseat through the rear-view mirror at Anna, and she looked mostly embarrassed by Mom’s remark. But there was something else there that I couldn’t quite decipher.

I was just frustrated at Mom because she was doing this again. Although I told her so many times to back off, she wouldn’t listen. It was quite cringy that my own mother was advocating for me to fuck my wife as much as possible so we would procreate.

I didn’t want to have kids. Ever. I didn’t have that paternalistic drive in me. I just saw them as a complication, not to mention restraining. I liked my freedom very much and there was no way I was going to give it up for someone else.

I was a firm believer that not all couples had to have kids. We were such a couple.

Anna used to want them, but eventually, I managed to convince her that life without small snotty brats was far better, superior. This way we could focus on ourselves and our own happiness.

Unfortunately, my mother refused to understand that and refused to accept that. She was a woman from a different time, raised differently, and to her, kids were everything, kids were a reason for living.

Luckily, I was nothing like her in that regard. And this was the only time she genuinely got on my nerves. When she pestered us about having children. I loved her, but she had no boundaries.

At the same time, there was something we were in perfect agreement about. With this money I just inherited, with the house my uncle left me, I would be able to feel more relaxed from now on. The knowledge I had all that gave me a certain sense of security, and I knew that would help me de-stress a great deal.

Considering I had all this cash now, and the house, maybe Marianne will lower her guard a little, and see how I am being serious about the two of us.

Perhaps if I showed her the picket fence life we could have, she would commit to me. I knew that wasn’t the life she wanted because neither did I. Nevertheless, it was the thought that counted, the gesture. Thinking about us finally living together almost brought a smile to my face.

“Why are you both ignoring me? Did I say something wrong?” Mom added after a short pause.

“There’s nothing to say, Mom,” I replied in return, trying not to snap at her. “That’s our private business.”

“I know, I know,” she said somewhat impatiently. “You can’t blame me for hoping.”

Actually, I could. All the same, I said nothing.

Thinking about the inheritance all this time, I realized I had no idea how all of it was supposed to work. The lawyer mentioned the probate period. What happens after the probate ends? Would I get cash straight into my hands? That would be great. Or would it be put into my account? I didn’t like the idea of all that money ending up in my joint account with Anna. This was my money, not hers.

What if all that money was tied to some bonds and shit like that? And what about the house? Would I simply get the house keys, and that was that? All kinds of things passed through my head.

I realized I would have to look into all of them because I didn’t like not knowing. All the details needed sorting.

I also made a mental note to contact that fancy lawyer and ask if I could simply get the cash without all the fuss because I didn’t want my wife to be privy to it.

This time I did smile, picturing all the things I would do once I got my inheritance. Maybe I’ll even buy something nice for Marianne.

SIX

ANNA

Paul inherited everything Uncle James had in this world. Wow.

That meant things turned out better than I could have imagined. With him getting the house and the money, I could expect a nice cut coming my way. If he doesn’t squander it first, I thought bitterly. I was talking about Paul here, so that was almost a given.

That is why I need to step in, I mused, to make sure he doesn’t lose everything.

Part of me knew I was acting like a bad person, only thinking about the money; on the other hand, no one could argue I didn’t deserve it. Not only had I been the only one supporting us for years, but then, when he promised me after finally getting this job (that I completely had to arrange for him, by the way) that we could save to update the bakery, he took that money and went to Vegas. With some girl probably. There is no way he spent that much money on just himself. I’d put up with Paul and his bullshit for far too long, and this would be his way of making it up to me, whether he was aware of it or not. Now was the time for me to think only about myself.

That would certainly be a nice change of pace. And I could do a great deal with that money. Renovate the bakery, pay a few debts that I had thanks to Paul, maybe even leave something to the side for a nice trip someplace.

As soon as we returned home, I was going to contact my lawyer to set up a meeting with him. I had to discuss my options.

Although I wanted to divorce Paul, and badly, I felt like this inheritance changed things for me. Not completely changed, but put everything on hold. Once he gets the money, I will file for a divorce. That way I would make sure to get my rightful cut.

I saw my lawyer, Harold Conwell, the very next day. I told him about the recent developments in my household. And he, in return, explained to me how Paul could not touch his inheritance during the probate period.

Because it wasn’t his yet, legally speaking. During the probate period, other parties had the opportunity to contest the will, but I was reassured it wouldn’t come to that because James had no children, no relatives other than Paul who would want to stake the claim. At least, it appeared that way.

If some cousins from God only knew where appeared, asking for his or her part, then I am screwed. All the same, I had to wait. Wait for it to pass, wait for Paul to legally inherit everything.

“Once Paul inherits all of it, do I have the right to demand half of it, during our divorce?” I asked, wanting to make sure.

“Yes, thus states the law,” he reassured, and I was. “However, there is something you should do in the meantime, something I highly recommend,” he added.

“And what is that?” I asked with interest.

If he was going to suggest I should kick Paul out of the house, so the judge would know we lived separately for a bit, then I was all for it.

“I would recommend you hire a private investigator,” he surprised me by saying.

“A private investigator?” I repeated. “Why?”

“To investigate your husband’s extramarital activities.”

He really didn’t need to say any more than that. It would be prudent if I had proof Paul was cheating on me. That way I could use that as leverage during the divorce proceedings. I really liked how Mr. Conwell thought. It was clear he had done this a million times, and was good at it.

I nodded. “I am sure Paul is cheating on me, and it would be great to have actual proof,” I agreed.

“Precisely.”

“Do you have someone in mind?” I asked.

I really didn’t feel comfortable hiring some random person. I would prefer if Mr. Conwell had someone who already proved himself, someone trustworthy.

“As a matter of fact, I do have someone in mind, Thornton Pierce,” he handed me a business card, “Our firm has hired him on numerous occasions, and I can guarantee that he is reliable, skillful, and above all very discreet.”

I liked the sound of that. The last thing I needed was for Paul to learn I hired a PI. I really didn’t want this divorce to turn ugly. At least not until it absolutely had to. That being said, I’d have to pay for him and my lawyer out of the account I set up for myself and the bakery. It was the only way I could keep money safe from Paul’s sticky fingers. If I didn’t have that, I’d be in trouble.

I was sure Paul would fight against giving me anything; all the same, if I had enough evidence on my side, it would show what a lousy husband he was, and then, maybe, things would swing my way, and I would get everything I deserved.

“I will give him a call. Thank you.”

I left the lawyer’s office with mixed feelings, to be perfectly honest.

On one hand, I was glad the ball was rolling, so to speak. I finally did it. I found a lawyer who would handle my divorce, and he was everything I hoped he would be.

On the other hand, I hated the idea of staying married to Paul a little bit longer, during this probate period. I would much rather be done with him now. Unfortunately, staying together was the only way I could secure my cut.

I truly needed half of that inheritance, to turn my life around. I wasted twelve years on that man, what are a few more months compared to that?

Even so, each day with him now felt like an eternity. Everything about him irked me, it couldn’t be helped. So, I really had no idea how I was going to endure a few more months with him.

I have no choice, that’s how, I answered myself.

As soon as I got into my car, I decided to call this Thornton guy. I felt like there was no time left for wasting.

After I told him who I was and who recommended him to me, we scheduled an appointment to meet. He said he didn’t like discussing matters like this over the phone, so he gave me his office address and approximate hours when he would be there.

Making sure my shift at the bakery was covered, I went to see Mr. Pierce. He was nothing like I expected he would be.

He was tall and thin, I noted, as he rose to shake hands with me. And his features were very narrow, yet somehow it worked, especially coupled with bright blue eyes. I could barely see that his hair was brown, considering he kept it chopped fairly short.

When our hands met, a wild current passed through my whole body. The feeling of such a powerful physical attraction had never happened to me before, and to be frank, it freaked me out. I felt much better releasing his hand and sitting down.

When he offered me a glass of water, I accepted it wholeheartedly, knowing I could use that moment to compose myself. What the fuck, Anna? I asked myself as I drank the entire glass of water, although I would much rather splash it on my face.

Good God. I had no idea what was wrong with me. This was so strange I didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Apparently, I was so stressed about Paul that my emotions were all over the place, I decided.

Snap out of it, I yelled internally. It worked, somewhat.

The man was gorgeous. I couldn’t stop staring. Or at least it felt like I was staring. He wasn’t beautiful in a conventional sense. Not in that poster boy kind of way. This was a man in front of me. Tall, broad-shouldered, muscular in all the right places with rugged good looks that reminded me of old-school Hollywood. He was every woman’s dream, no question about that.

“So, what can I do for you, Mrs. Wilson?” he asked, and I could detect traces of an accent in his voice. He was definitely not a born New Yorker. Then again, few of us were.

Then I realized he’d asked me a question. Right, this is business, I reminded myself, trying not to act like a complete idiot.

Without wasting any time, mine or his, I explained my situation to him. My lawyer reassured me this man was trustworthy, so I told him everything without any reservations. There was a possibility I shared too much, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop myself.

From a gawking idiot to a rambling idiot, I guess that is progress, I mocked.

I shared my suspicions about Paul having an affair. He’d always had wandering eyes, and I knew he liked to flirt with women, especially when I was not around; however, for quite some time I had started wondering if he’d taken it further, with someone.

Although I had no particular woman in mind, his behavior definitely suggested something was going on.

He was dressing up nicer. Regularly showered, shaved, and he was clearly not doing that for my benefit. He had no problems going all smelly to work. I’d seen it happen. Not to mention how he constantly came home late and in an unnaturally good mood. That suggested he was getting some, and not from me. Then there was the smear of pink on his shirt collar that he swore was from his mother, but he’d been flushed in the face when I’d asked about it. There was also that whiff of perfume in his car, which I knew wasn’t mine, nor his mother’s, that he’d said was simply the car freshener he’d bought and thrown out. Individually, it could all be innocent, but taken all together… probably not.

“If something is going on, in that regard, I will find out,” Thornton comforted. He insisted I call him by his first name. “I will make sure you come out of this marriage with everything you deserve.”

Despite myself, I smiled at his words. I really needed to hear that. I lacked the person in my life who could tell me everything was going to be all right, so I was grateful Thornton was that person for me.

God knew I couldn’t rely on my mother for emotional support. Her motto was always to suffer in silence, which was the great wisdom she also tried to impart to me; luckily, it didn’t work.

Are you sure? You have been married for twelve years, after all, part of me pointed out. I am also divorcing him, I argued with myself.

I returned home later that evening, at the same time Paul was pulling up the driveway. Since I knew he never stayed to work overtime, that could mean only one thing. He was with his mistress.

When I reached him, I noted he reeked of smoke and beer. I found that combination rather disgusting.

“I was with Dean, having a few drinks,” he explained, although I hadn’t asked him.

I wasn’t sure whether I believed him. He liked to hang out with his best friend, flirt with women. That was like a hobby for Paul. And it didn’t even have to lead to anything, he didn’t have to have sex with them. It was the notion that he could that excited him.

Since the place was a mess – Paul never picked up after himself – I started cleaning up. I took dirty dishes and empty glasses of water from the living room to the kitchen.

He followed after me. “You know, I have been thinking about turning the estate into a nice B&B. On such a great location, it would be packed non-stop.”

That stopped me in my tracks. What? A freaking bed and breakfast? Every part of me screamed out of desperation. That was a horrible idea. And not simply because that would mean I wouldn’t see a dime of that money.

“Let me guess. That was Dean’s idea,” I said instead of what I was thinking. That had Dean’s fingerprints all over.

He was always full of great ideas, and quick scams, and unfortunately, Paul was dumb enough to always go with it.

“It’s a great idea,” Paul nodded, proving my point.

I remained silent. I was rendered stupid. Because it was a stupid idea. How to make Paul see that? I couldn’t very well say the truth because that would only make matters worse.

“What do you think?” he prompted.

That it would be more lucrative to set everything on fire than open a B&B. “I don’t know. I mean, what do you know about running a B&B?” I questioned.

I realized that if I could make him see how much work all that would entail, then he would drop it. That was the hope anyway.

He shrugged. “How hard can it be? Check guests in, check guests out.”

That was Paul’s problem. There was no thinking process involved, ever.

“You would need a cook, and a few maids, not to mention someone to take care of the grounds, a janitor to clean, a receptionist,” I started to list, off the top of my head. Because it wasn’t like Paul was a jack-of-all-trades.

“I’ll hire people.”

“That would eat all of your profits,” I pointed out. “If you ask me, a B&B would be a huge money pit, and you would have to work twenty-four seven to make sure it’s all working properly.”

He made a face at that, like I knew he would.

“And if you are constantly working there, you wouldn’t be able to paint at all,” I added, as though in afterthought.

He scoffed. “That’s no loss. I’ll never succeed in NY, not while Audrina is blacklisting me.”

That again? He was, for some unexplained reason to me, convinced that one of my friends was responsible for all his failures. I knew that was something he was telling himself to feel better, but it still irked me he decided to drag Audrina into this. It also gave me an idea.

“And besides, it doesn’t have to be a B&B, it could be a nice resort. Rich people love shit like that,” he added before I could say anything.

“To satisfy a clientele like that, the place would have to be immaculate,” I pointed out. “It would be better to just sell it, as is.”

“I don’t know…” He dragged the words out.

“If you think about it, I promise I’ll speak with Audrina on your behalf,” I offered, feeling pretty desperate at that point.

“She will never agree to take my paintings, she hates me,” Paul said, childishly.

“Let me worry about that,” I reassured. “Do you agree to sell it, instead of turning it into some resort that would depreciate and bring us nothing but problems and headaches?” I stressed.

“Well, when you put it that way, of course, I will sell it.”

I sighed with relief. That was what I needed to hear. “Good.” I continued washing the dishes.

Crisis averted.

SEVEN

PAUL

The firm I worked with landed a huge contract from one of the new fashion brands, which meant all hands were on deck, so to speak.

Unfortunately, that meant I would have to actually focus on my job, for a change, and that frustrated me to no end. It was bad enough that I was stuck there. I really didn’t like the idea of giving my hundred percent on top of that.

They didn’t deserve it.

I would much rather daydream about the inheritance I got. Will get soon enough, I corrected myself, grumbling about the probate period. That was so stupid. A probate period should not exist. A person who got the money should get it immediately, not have to wait for months for it. Bureaucracy sucked, big time.

By leaving me everything, Uncle James changed my life. Part of me wanted to quit this job, immediately, because I knew that with the money he left me, I definitely wouldn’t have to work. I wouldn’t have to work anymore at all if I turned the estate into a B&B, I thought.

Then again, Anna made some pretty good points the other day about why it would be a bad idea. I definitely didn’t want to work even more. The goal was to work less, or not at all.

What if I rent the house?

Then again who would rent such a huge place, and for what?

I knew that those companies who shot porn always looked for fresh locations for their movies. I couldn’t care less what they did there as long as I got paid. All the same, they would not rent a place indefinitely, which returned me to square one.

And I didn’t like the idea of having to deal with taxes, bills, and things like that. It would be better to sell it.

Which meant I would have to stay working, at least for a little bit longer.

To be perfectly honest, I made a decent amount of money doing this mindless job. I would prefer it if I was paid more, since I had expenses, and my paycheck always disappeared too quickly. That was not the biggest downside. I didn’t like being told what to do. My bosses wouldn’t know what an original, creative idea was even if it hit them in the face, and were constantly hindering me, opting for more conventional, boring ideas, and that was just infuriating.

I hated those bunch of idiots. The only person I could tolerate at that place was Dean. He wasn’t an artist like me; however, he understood some things far better than those morons ever could. That was why I liked to hang out with him. That was why he was my best buddy.

He always had great ideas about where to go, or what to do with a few extra dollars. Dean’s only problem was that he was extremely unlucky. If I was superstitious, I would say he was cursed, because each time he tried to make something great, it would turn to shit. Like when he went to bet on a sure thing at the track, turned out the horse got sick right in the middle of the race, and he lost ten grand. That’s the kind of luck he had.

All the same, he was full of interesting ideas. And he didn’t disappoint when I told him I inherited a house from my uncle.

“I know exactly what you should do with that house. Turn it into a B&B. You could make a killing, if you advertise it as an escape from the city, a return to nature, and crap like that. People would eat that shit up like crazy, I’m telling you.”

I immediately liked the idea because it would be a constant source of income no matter the season. I could profit from New Year’s Eve and all the other holidays that were packed during that season. It was a win-win.

I would need to hire an army of people to do everything instead of me, though. Rich people would pay good money to escape from their lives for just a little, and relax at Wilson’s Resort. That had a nice ring to it.

I could hear Anna’s voice in my head telling me that to satisfy a clientele like that, I would have to work even harder. But what does she know? It’s not like she owned a B&B before, I thought grumpily.

And on and on my mind went in circles.

Although I still loved Dean’s ideas, I had to side with Anna because, at the end of the day, I didn’t want all that additional work in my life.

As Anna said, the best course of action would be to sell it as is and be done with it. That way I would get clean cash that practically fell from the sky for me, and that should be enough.

Besides, there was something else I would get out of it all. Anna promised me she would speak with Audrina on my behalf, convince her to take my paintings, or at least make an exhibition for me.

The joke was on her because I was pretty sure I was going to sell my uncle’s house anyway. Perhaps I was not aware of that at the time, but I would have reached that same conclusion eventually, without her input. All the same, I liked how I was constantly winning in life as of late. It was about time.

Why did Anna offer to speak with Audrina? She had been nothing but hostile toward me ever since learning about Vegas so why the sudden act of kindness? It was surprising, to say the least, considering it had been a while since she did anything for me, especially volunteering on her own.

Nonetheless, I was going to accept this lucky turn of events all the same. And I had great faith Anna would manage to accomplish something. She and Audrina were good friends after all. So even though Audrina hated my guts, she would do a favor for Anna, if she asked nicely.

It would be amazing to have my own shop. To finally show Marianne my paintings in person.

Then again, I had a huge enough place, my uncle’s estate, to host my own exhibition if I wanted to, I mused. It would be a hit, and something never seen before if I hosted it in upstate New York.

Sadly, the venue was only one part of the problem. People were a bigger problem, as in contacts, important people, people with money, and critics, who would come to the exhibition and offer to be beneficiaries.

That was the true goal, always, having someone who would actually want to buy my art and be prepared to pay a substantial amount of money for it.

Although I really hated to admit it, I needed Audrina. She knew all the top dogs, and for her, they would come to see me. I hated the idea of kissing her ass, especially while knowing she didn’t like me. I hated owing her.

You won’t owe her anything. Anna will, I reminded myself.

Nevertheless, I wouldn’t have all these problems if I simply opened a B&B. I could set one of the buildings to be my little studio, where guests could see my art, and buy it.

I frowned. Selling my art to regular people felt like moving a step backward, not forward.

I felt pretty torn about making the final decision one way or the other. That was why I decided to go and see Marianne after work, share all the news, and ask what she thought about it all.

Like always, she was very happy to see me. And more than willing to drag me into her temporary one-room apartment upstairs.

Once we were finished non-verbally telling how much we missed one another, we ordered some Chinese takeout because we were both starving, and I told her about the possibility of renting the house I had just inherited.

“Those kinds of places, family owned and shit like that, are very popular now. They are hotter than hotels,” I pointed out.

“That’s true,” she agreed. “Oh! You know what we could do?” Her eyes were bright as she looked at me.

“What?” I asked, indulging her, hoping she was wanting to have sex again.

“We could turn it into an artist retreat! Artists could come there and get inspired, and paint and create things; wouldn’t that be wonderful?” She clapped gleefully.

The idea was actually a good one. If I’d had a place to go to for inspiration, I’d probably already have a gallery wanting my work in New York. “It would be wonderful.” I nodded.

“But what would be the upkeep of a place like that?” she added as though in afterthought.

To be honest, I had no idea, and I was sad that she was now being practical by asking such a question.

“For a huge house, with a big estate, I am sure the bills will be really high, through the roof,” she clearly continued to think out loud. “Not to mention the garden, or gardens, those need to be immaculate so they could inspire the artists.”

“To be honest. I’m not familiar with all the numbers,” I confessed reluctantly. It irked me it hadn’t even occurred to me to ask something like that.

“I’m sure your uncle’s accountant could inform you about everything you need to know. His lawyer as well,” she reassured. “Of course, if we do this, you’ll have to apply for a business license first, even if it’s just an artist retreat. Also, I am sure the house would have to pass necessary inspections, to make sure everything is up to code.” She made a face. “Setting everything up will require a lot of money. Do you have it?”

I frowned. “I think I do. It’s just that I haven’t thought about all the details yet. I only wanted to share this very nice idea,” I hedged.

“It is. If you are willing to commit to it.”

I nodded and couldn’t help feeling like she took a huge dump on everything I just said. I couldn’t help feeling a bit resentful that I tried speaking with her about something nice, a potentially better future for the both of us, because I definitely pictured her by my side during this adventure, and all she did was find flaws in it instead of encouraging me.

“I have no problems committing when I know it’s a real deal,” I replied firmly. Are you willing to commit? was on the tip of my tongue. And I wasn’t necessarily talking about the house, or any of our business prospects for it, but about us.

“That is good to hear. Just bear in mind you and Anna might end up divorcing, so the last thing you need is additional financial problems,” she pointed out.

I was stunned by that statement. What did she mean by – I might end up divorcing Anna? I was definitely divorcing her. There was no question about this.

I said as much. “And I can’t wait for you to be rid of Cameron, so we can stop sneaking around, and I can properly take you out, and celebrate this inheritance.”

I thought my words would cheer her up. They didn’t.

She made a face. “I have to move, to get away from Cameron. That’s the only way. I don’t feel safe here anymore,” she confessed.

“Move?” I repeated like a parrot. I didn’t like that idea. “Where?”

“I don’t know yet, but I can’t stay here anymore.”

“New York is a big city, he can’t find you if you don’t want to be found,” I pointed out.

She gave me a look. “He would still know where I work and would be able to track me no matter what.”

She made it sound as though he was some stalker maniac. I knew he had a bit of a temper, but I was sure she was exaggerating.

“I have to get out of the city, maybe move to a different state altogether. I’ve always wanted to move somewhere sunny, maybe with a beach…”

The fact she so easily spoke about moving away, God knew where, really disturbed me.

“You need to call the cops on him, and be done with him once and for all,” I said. If the situation was so dire, then she needed to act, not run away.

“And what would that accomplish?” she challenged in return. “Even if the police arrest him, he will be back on the streets in no time.”

I really didn’t know what to say to that because I knew she was right.

“Moving away is my only option,” she added.

I didn’t like the idea of Marianne moving away, especially without me.

“Let me think of something. Don’t go anywhere until I do, please.”

She nodded reluctantly.

This little talk made me realize how I needed to verify certain things and think more about my options regarding the estate.

That was precisely why I went to see my lawyer, and my accountant (or rather, my uncle’s lawyer and accountant) to discuss my options. I wanted to show Marianne that she would have a place by my side, in my brand-new B&B.

“Opening a B&B, on an untested location, in this economy would be equal to financial suicide,” the accountant was adamant.

“I have the money too. I could set everything up without spending a cent of my own money. Surely that would be enough to sustain the business while it is still new,” I pointed out. I didn’t appreciate him treating me like an idiot. I knew what I was doing.

Marianne needed a place to hide from her crazy ex, and I would provide her with one.

Both men shook their heads as I said that.

“The money you inherited from your uncle will barely be enough to cover its upkeep and bills until you manage to sell it,” the accountant struck again.

“What?” I explained.

“I’m afraid so,” the lawyer agreed. “James had expensive taste, and that kind of living requires constant money flow.”

That was a pretty cold shower I hadn’t expected to receive. I had no idea that having a house like that would be so expensive.

“How did my uncle manage it?” I had to ask.

“He worked every day as a stockbroker and didn’t take a day off in more than thirty years,” Mr. Morgan replied simply.

My head spun as I tried to take in what exactly he was saying to me. “So realistically, how long will the money in my uncle’s accounts cover the upkeep of the house then?”

“Well, based on what’s liquid right now,” he started tapping on his keyboard, “we’re looking at a few months at most, and that all depends on current pricing for electricity and the like.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked over at me from over his designer glasses. “The house, well, the entire estate, takes a great deal of money to keep the lights on, not to mention warm in the winter months. And with the way rates have been hiking, it’s possible the money won’t even last more than two months. Not to mention property taxes, and the inheritance tax.”

I couldn’t believe there were such high taxes to pay, nor that it cost so much to keep the house running. Anna had never complained about rate hikes or anything with our house. She always just took care of all the bills, and I didn’t even see them or worry about them. Was this guy snowing me? I stared at him, waiting for him to tell me he was joking.

“I’ll be frank, sir, if you’re wanting a substantial payout on this inheritance, you’ll have to hurry and get it all sold before you lose it.”

EIGHT

PAUL

I was not happy after my meeting with my uncle’s accountant and lawyer. I didn’t appreciate them assuming I would just sell the estate and be done with it, acting like I wouldn’t be able to decide on my own how to handle it the best way. At the same time, their warnings were ringing in my ears.

I had no idea the upkeep would cost me a fortune, a fortune I didn’t have. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my uncle’s salary to keep up with it all. He should have left me his job, too, I grumbled. Then again, he was some kind of a broker. I would die of boredom doing something like that.

It was so unfair that some people got an insane amount of money for their jobs. Like professional athletes, for example, getting millions and millions of dollars for chasing balls around, or whatever. It wasn’t like they were saving lives. It wasn’t like they were doing something useful for humanity. They didn’t try to make it better or at least prettier with their craft. All the same, they got all the cash. Life was not fair like that.

Is it a blessing or a curse I inherited it all? I dismissed that thought immediately. I would make the most of it all the same.

Everything would be well if I sold the place. The problem was I wasn’t one hundred percent on board with that, I would prefer to keep it, so Marianne and I would have a place of our own.

Sadly, if I decided to go through with my idea, opening a nice B&B or a fancy resort, I would end up bankrupt. The accountant was pretty clear about that.

No matter how many clients I had, no matter if I busted my ass working twenty-four seven, the end result would be the same. The upkeep, bills, expenses, and taxes would swallow any profit I might achieve. And it wasn’t logical to expect I would have a full house from the get-go. Building a reputation, a brand, took time. Time I didn’t have.

So, if I wanted to end up profiting, and I truly wanted, needed that, I would have to sell it, and as fast as possible. Part of me was still reluctant because having money was just part of my dream.

Uncle James, what should I do? I asked the heavens. Unfortunately, there was no reply. Then again if my dead uncle started answering to me, I would start worrying about my mental health too.

Nonetheless, the question remained the same: what should I do? Take the easy way out of it, sell the place, receive money, or try to fulfill my dream and potentially end up with nothing.

Choices, choices.

I was sure that Uncle James left everything to me, and not to someone else, like my mother, for a reason. He wanted me to turn my life around, quit the job I so hated, and gain freedom. Unfortunately, that dream was out of reach for me. I came really close to it, only to discover I didn’t have enough money to realize it.

Damn money. It was constantly the source of all my misfortunes. That was the story of my life. Money, or more accurately put, the lack of it, prevented me from fulfilling many dreams.

Would I have enough money if I took all the savings from the joint account? I wondered. That money was mine as much as it was Anna’s. And I needed it more at the moment than she did. Is that the financial infusion I require to be able to keep the house and open a B&B? I pondered.

Perhaps, if I tightened the belt a little, then it would be enough. There was only one problem with it. Anna would definitely kill me if I took all the money that we had without telling her. And there was no point in asking. Hell would freeze over before she would agree to it all. She was blind to see all the potential. Besides, she was still holding a grudge, which meant she would say no even while knowing this was a great opportunity for me, simply to spite me.

I couldn’t count on that money, I realized. And getting another mortgage on the house was impossible as well since Anna would have to sign for it and there was no way she would agree. I am fucked, I thought bitterly. The universe was constantly against me. And I hated it.

Realizing I was stuck in a loop, without being able to make a decision, I settled on going to see my mother, and see what she had to say about it all.

She lived in the same house my father bought for them. Considering recent developments, I started to wonder how she could afford to keep it, considering she didn’t work. I had no idea how much money my father had left her.

Maybe I should ask. Perhaps she could give me the money I needed. Perhaps she could sell her house and give me the money so I could open a B&B. She wanted me to be happy after all. And she would definitely do it if I asked. What loving mother wouldn’t?

As always, Mom looked happy to see me.

“How are things between you and Anna?” she asked as I barely settled in the living room.

That was always one of the first things she asked, and of course, it was because she was obsessed with grandchildren. She had tried to guilt me many times by complaining how all of her friends were already grandparents, except her.

Naturally, I ignored such ridiculousness. I couldn’t care less about her friends. And that was definitely not the reason I should have kids, so my mother would be happy, so she could have something to brag about to her friends.

“Things between us are not good.” I decided to be honest with her. I realized it was time to start preparing her for the idea of me and Anna divorcing.

Then again, if she’s angry with me, she will never give me the money, came to mind. Fuck. I constantly felt like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

All the same, I continued. “We’re constantly fighting. Anna is continuously unhappy with me no matter what I do.”

My mother sighed in return, shaking her head. “Some women do not know how to be happy. Oddly, I never pegged Anna to be one of those women.”

“Well, she is. And I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what she’s up to.”

“In what way?” my mother asked a bit impatiently. Apparently, I was beating around the bush without meaning to.

“As I said, things are pretty tense between us. All the same, she offered to help me with my landscapes if I think about selling Uncle’s house.”

“I see nothing strange with that. I see a woman being a good, supportive wife, trying to offer an olive branch,” she explained in return.

A good, supportive wife wouldn’t nag me for going to Vegas to blow off some steam, I grumbled to myself.

“So don’t be thick in the head, Paul, meet your wife halfway,” she chastised, but in good nature.

“Okay,” I replied simply.

I trusted my mom’s judgment, so if she believed this was a good thing, then I was all right with that. In other words, I would accept her help, but that definitely didn’t mean I would abandon my plan to divorce her. As soon as I managed to settle everything regarding this inheritance and got my money, I was going to hire a lawyer and serve Anna with divorce papers.

I needed to be completely free so I could commit to Marianne and start building my life with her. I also hoped that by then Cameron would be out of the picture as well because I didn’t want to deal with some crazy ex-husband who could not accept that his marriage was over.

I was sure Anna would abide by everything with dignity and agree to all my terms. She wouldn’t have anything to complain about, I would be more than fair. She can keep the bakery, and I will keep the house since she’d have the bakery. That was fair, one building for her, one for me. All the money we have, we will split into equal parts; that is only fair.

I would definitely sell that house as well, and then Marianne and I would buy something together. I was thinking about an open-plan loft. I had always wanted to live in one of those. They had an artistic vibe to them, and I was sure I would be able to paint better in a place like that.

“So, are you going to do it?” Mom asked next, snapping me from my thoughts.

I shrugged. “I had some other plans actually. However, I might have to sell it, according to Uncle’s accountant.” I couldn’t remember that man’s name. It was something unusual, foreign.

“How come?” Mom asked with interest.

“Well, as it turns out, even with the money Uncle James left me, I wouldn’t be able to afford to keep the property for more than a few months. The upkeep of an estate like that is extremely expensive,” I explained making a face.

My mom patted my hand. “I am really sorry to hear that, my dear.”

“Me too. I really felt like this was my shot for a fresh new start.”

I could just picture me and Marianne, living life to the fullest at the estate, away from New York and all its hypocritical, toxic people. Jealous people like Audrina. Or crazy people like Cameron. Or simply negative people like Anna. I didn’t need any of those people in my life.

“I am sure that will still happen,” my mom reassured me. “I am sure since nobody is going to contest the will, you will get it all free and clear. And I’ll help you sell it, and quickly.”

“Do you have any rich friends who would be interested in buying an estate like that?” I asked, hopeful.

“Perhaps,” she replied with a wink.

Mom was always up to something. All the same, that cheered me up immensely.

After another short pause, she said, “You know, if you and Anna had a baby, things would improve between the two of you. A child puts everything in perspective,” she advised.

I groaned inwardly. She really had a gift for turning everything around and making it about my wife ending up pregnant.

“Please, Mom, don’t start again, I am really not in the mood, considering I’m stressing about this inheritance,” I pleaded. “Not to mention I already have enough on my plate as it is. They are riding me hard at work, with these short deadlines, and there’s never enough money according to Anna. It’s just not the right time,” I lied.

Mom stood up so she could hug me, wrap her arms around me, and kiss my forehead.

“You’re right, but I do not like seeing you like this. Are you hungry?” She abruptly changed the subject. “Do you want me to make you some pesto pasta, the way you like it?” she offered.

My mouth actually watered at that. Nobody prepared pasta better than my mother.

“I could eat. I am a bit hungry,” I replied.

“Of course, dear. You do look a bit too skinny.”

“That’s because ladies prefer me that way,” I said with a grin, and she swatted at me.

“I do not like when you joke like that,” she chastised while going to the kitchen to prepare my meal.

I followed after her. We chatted lightly; I teased her about unimportant things as I watched her cook.

She was the only one who was always there for me. She always supported me even though she didn’t always agree with me. And I really appreciated that. Besides that, she’d always made sure that Dad stayed far away from me, protected me from him when he’d started drinking. She looked out for me. She took care of me.

Even looking back at how she’d been with Dad, she’d supported him as his wife in everything he’d done until he died. Even when he was wrong, and things had gotten out of hand, she’d looked out for me. She had said that would have hurt him, knowing that he’d hurt me because I was his son. Dad was never in his right mind when he’d been drinking, and Mom usually tried to make sure we were out of his way when he did.

That was what a wife and mother was supposed to do.

That was how a relationship between a man and a woman was supposed to be as well, I thought.

“What are you thinking about so intently,” she asked looking at me.

“Just wondering why I can’t find a woman like you, who will love me and take care of me no matter what,” I complained.

She smiled in return. “That is because they broke the mold after making me, my sweet boy,” she explained with a wink.

I laughed wholeheartedly. That is true.

Being around my mother and eating her delicious food was everything I needed after the day I’d had, after receiving such bad news from the people taking care of the inheritance.

She made everything better, and with her beside me, I somehow knew all was going to be all right. Even if everyone else disappointed me, I knew that at least I would always have my mother by my side. And I didn’t care if that made me a mama’s boy.

I would wear that title and proudly because she was the best.

NINE

ANNA

A few weeks had passed since Paul’s uncle passed away, and issues around the will were settled uncontested, which was a relief. Despite knowing that he had no other relatives, I kept expecting some long-lost cousin or nephew sticking their nose in.

I knew nothing about the procedures before this. The few things that I did know I learned from watching movies, or TV shows that were not credible sources, so I did some internet searches.

And I was shocked to discover how some people were locked in legal battles for years. It was a true blessing that something like that did not happen to Paul.

Even if he was completely oblivious to the fact, the man was born under a lucky star. I had always thought that, and this inheritance business reaffirmed that.

Nonetheless, Paul acted kind of weird, clearly upset that his idea, Dean’s idea, about a B&B fell through. He was like a big baby at times, acting out when things didn’t go his way; however, he managed to get used to the idea of selling the estate. Not that he was doing anything about it.

I had to admit, I was happy by that turn of events. It cheered me up knowing that some of that money would be mine, so I could start over, away from Paul. Perhaps that was the wrong word; it wasn’t so much cheering as comforting. My brighter, better future was waiting for me just around the corner.

I had to wait for a little bit longer and then all would finally be over between me and Paul. We didn’t sleep in the same room anymore, which was fine by me. It was easier that way, to pretend he was already gone from my life.

While I counted the days until I could finally file for divorce, I continued to see Thornton. And I found myself really looking forward to those meetings. We met in hotel bars, and restaurants, and I knew there really wasn’t any true need for the two of us to be doing that, and so regularly, but I still allowed it to happen. I looked forward to spending time with him, getting to know him. At times, I would completely forget he was actually a PI that I hired to follow Paul around because we would end up talking about everything other than my husband. We talked about my life, his life, and everything in between.

Thornton was nothing like Paul, and he actually listened to me when I spoke. Even when I was obviously boring him to death talking about my job and different ways you could make something as simple as a croissant. I really loved my job, and he would end up asking a bunch of follow-up questions.

As promised, Thornton got proof of Paul’s infidelity, shortly after accepting the job. It was that easy catching Paul in the act because, as it turned out, he wasn’t that discreet about what he was doing, as though he didn’t care if he got caught or not.

That was so typical of him. He always did exactly what he wanted, and consequences be damned.

I had always suspected he was sleeping around. I would be an idiot not to notice changes in the man I had been living with for more than a decade. All the same, having actual proof in front of me, having photos of him with another woman, seeing him laugh with her, kissing her passionately like she was the air he was breathing, was not easy to see.

Although I stopped loving him a long time ago, I still felt like I lost something, no matter how ridiculous that sounded.

Naturally, photos were not the only thing that Thornton provided for me. I had a video as well, and he also did a background check on her, so I would know exactly who she was.

Her name was Marianne Blake, she was thirty-one years old and a tattoo artist. She had her own tattoo parlor that was not that far away from Paul’s job. I hated that it appeared as though the whole world was aligned with his wishes.

Marianne was also married, which I found not surprising at all, to a veteran named Cameron Blake.

It had taken me a few moments to place Marianne, but then it hit me. I’d seen her a couple of times at Audrina’s gallery, and I knew the two of them were friends. It was also obvious that was how Paul had met her, while we were attending some kind of exhibition. And I found it disgusting that he started seducing another woman he’d been introduced to right in front of my eyes.

Did Audrina know? Why didn’t she tell me? I thought we were friends. Was that the reason she didn’t like Paul? I had so many questions, but I realized they were not important.

To be perfectly honest, I was pretty surprised by his taste. To state the obvious, Marianne looked nothing like me. More to the point, she was the complete opposite of me, in every regard. I was tall, she was short. I was blond with short hair, and her hair was a wavy, dark auburn mess.

She was also slightly younger than me. Not to mention the biggest difference: She was covered in tattoos, and I had never understood the attraction of marking my own body in that way.

Was that the appeal? I thought. However, that was probably a complete misconception on my part, that I was his type. Or maybe he’d chosen her just to spite me.

All the same, it was better to know the truth than continue to live with a question mark over my head. And I took the news rather well, all things considered.

I was already aware that my marriage had ended a long time ago, and that I had stopped loving him. I had mourned the loss of it, and cried because of it, so now all that I needed to do was make it official. And in my mind, that was just a formality. The last step that would set me free.

I believed that was precisely the reason why I didn’t feel guilty for seeing Thornton so much. Maybe Paul feels the same about his affair? I thought. Then again, those two things were not the same. I was not having an affair with Thornton, while Paul was having an affair with Marianne. I wasn’t sleeping around. Paul was. I was respectful of my marriage. Paul was not.

I shared a few meals with Thornton, a few drinks here or there, and that was it. It was nice, to feel appreciated for a change. Paul took me for granted and always assumed I would be all right with whatever ridiculous idea he was having at the moment. I hated that.

All the same, I endured it all, because I was thinking of my future. I was thinking about the money I would get after divorcing that cheating bastard.

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait that long; after six weeks, Paul finally received the money, the appropriate sum was deposited to his brand-new account, and he got the deed to the property in upstate NY.

And I thought that once he finally got everything, it would mean things would start to move forward quickly, that it would propel him into action, but I was wrong. Although Paul got the inheritance, legally, he appeared perfectly happy to do nothing with it all.

If I was the one who got the inheritance, I would be on the phone setting up meetings with realtors the instant the ink dried, trying to sell it. Unfortunately, Paul was nothing like me, especially when things did not go as he imagined they would. He was more than content to pout around the house and stall, which drove me crazy.

Each time I asked about it all, he would say how he planned on going to check out the house, that he planned to contact a realtor, was going to put it on the market, without actually doing any of those things.

That made me realize I would have to step in, and practically push him, drag him, in the right direction because if I left it all up to him, he would continue to do nothing indefinitely. And I didn’t want to live to my old age still married to Paul, while the estate decayed.

That was one of the things that always infuriated me about him. Paul was always big, grand even, in words, but small in actions.

“I’ve been thinking,” I decided to start up a conversation with Paul and see where that might take me because, for me, idleness was not an option. “How about we move into your uncle’s house for a bit, until it’s ready for the sale,” I said as though the thought just occurred to me.

“Move there?” Paul made a face as though I was speaking in a foreign language.

“It would be more convenient to get things ready that way than to try and commute every day,” I explained with a small shrug. “And it would be short-term. A couple of weeks, tops, simply to get the place ready for sale.”

“I don’t know,” he dragged out the words. “I would still have to come into the city every day, to work.”

“And I would have to go to my bakery. However, all our free time could be used to spruce up the place a little.”

To be honest, I had no idea what condition the estate was in. Perhaps we wouldn’t even have to do anything, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to prevent Paul from stalling any longer.

“Why do we need to spruce up anything?” he argued. “I will sell it as is.”

I pursed my lips. “I read that adding small personal touches, getting fresh flowers, or even baking something sweet in the oven could make all the difference with potential buyers,” I explained. I read online all kinds of tips last night before going to sleep. “It could lead to a quicker sale at a higher price,” I added, knowing that was the most important thing for him, the amount of money he would be getting.

“Let me think about it.”

I hated it when he dragged his feet like this, but then again, I knew better than to pressure him. That would only make matters worse if his stubbornness came out to play.

Waiting around wasn’t easy. I was desperate to get out of this marriage, to be free of him. That was precisely why I couldn’t be idle; I had to act, and fast.

He could ignore me; he could not ignore his mother.

That was precisely why I mentioned how nothing was happening regarding the house, that he hadn’t put it on sale yet, once we spoke over the phone.

Noreen reassured me she would take care of everything. I hadn’t felt guilty reaching for that ultimate weapon because I knew my idea was the best idea. He should sell the house. And not simply for my benefit. For his as well. If he tried to do things any other way, he would lose everything.

But then the days went by, and still, Paul did nothing, nor did he agree for us to move upstate for the time being. Noreen failed me.

And then I got another idea. I wasn’t particularly proud of what I was going to do, but then again, desperate times required desperate measures.

Thanks to Thornton, I learned all about Marianne and Paul. And I didn’t have to be a genius to realize Paul was stalling because he didn’t want me to go upstate with him; he wanted his mistress by his side. That was precisely why I asked Thornton to dig up everything he could about her husband, Cameron. And he did.

I was very surprised to learn that someone as young as Cameron, in his thirties, was already a war veteran, who was honorably discharged, although he hadn’t been able to keep a job since returning. At the moment, he also works as a tattoo artist, like his wife, only in a different parlor. Once I asked myself if Cameron was aware of the affair, a plan formed in my mind.

Since it was on the shady side, I shared my plans with Thornton. He tried to talk me out of it.

“I checked Cameron out, and he has a temper. He was arrested on numerous occasions for bar fighting.”

And he was walking free, without repercussions?

“I’ll be careful,” I reassured him. “Nevertheless, I have to go and speak with him,” I was adamant. This was the only way to make sure my plan worked.

“Let me come with you then,” Thornton pleaded.

I shook my head. “No, I have to do this on my own.” I was sure I had better chances reasoning with this man alone than if I came with a PI.

In the end, it was the way I wanted it to be. I found Cameron in his place of business. I was pretty intimidated by his appearance. He was tall and really muscular, with several scary-looking tattoos, a blond crew cut, and pale blue eyes. And when he looked me up and down, I stopped breathing.

“Hello,” I greeted politely, finding my voice.

“You don’t seem the type who would usually get a tattoo, but hop on,” he said in a deep voice, patting the chair.

I stayed put. “I am not here to get a tattoo, Mr. Blake; I need to speak with you.”

His eyes narrowed immediately. “So, speak,” he snapped in return.

He was not particularly polite or civil, so it was a mystery to me how he managed to conduct business. Then again, that was of no concern to me. My agenda was of a different kind.

“My name is Anna Wilson,” I introduced myself. There was zero recognition of my name in his eyes, I noted. “I know you’re a good man.”

His shoulders straightened and he held himself more proudly.

“That is why I won’t allow either of us to be made fools of. Your wife Marianne and my husband Paul are having an affair,” I delivered it to him straight without sugarcoating it. I wouldn’t know how to sugarcoat that even if I wanted to.

“What?” he snapped, getting up and taking a step toward me, so I took a step back.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I hired a PI who verified it.”

“That bitch,” he fumed.

“I came here today to discuss what to do about this problem – our spouses’ infidelity,” I had no idea why I sounded so formal with him.

“What’s there to do?” He practically growled the words. “That lying whore already filed for a divorce, but I’ll deal with her.” Cameron was clearly livid.

I knew I was to blame. Still, I wasn’t backing down, I couldn’t. Too much was at stake for me.

“And I’m going to find that husband of yours and rip the head off of his shoulders.” He made a disturbing hand gesture to accompany those words, to paint me a perfect picture.

I gulped.

“I guess that solves all your problems too. You’re welcome.”

I couldn’t understand how anyone could be married to a man like that. Then again, she was having an affair. And she was divorcing him. All the same, I suppressed my fears since I was there on a mission. Hearing him talk about such violence gave me an idea.

“I think I have a better solution, one that could be mutually beneficial.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’m trying to convince Paul to move upstate,” I explained without going into detail. “Unfortunately, he is a bit reluctant about it.”

“So?”

“How do you feel about spooking him into leaving Marianne alone? That will definitely help me convince him to make the right decision, and it will clear you a path to try and patch things up with your wife.”

I wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted, given he used words such as whore, and bitch, but I hedged my bets.

Considering how livid he looked, it was obvious he still felt something for her. I was counting on that feeling. Counting he would say yes because of it.

“All right, fine. I’ll do it,” he said eventually.

I sighed with relief.

Things are set in motion, finally.

“Thank you.” I reached a hand out and touched his forearm. “I also wanted to say thank you for your service to our country. You’re a brave man.” I smiled.

He gave me a nod, looking proud again. “It was my pleasure.”

TEN

PAUL

I was surprised when I saw Mother calling me so early in the morning. Although she was a morning person, she knew I wasn’t and always made sure to respect that.

The fact she was calling meant that she really needed to speak with me.

“Hi, Mom,” I answered without wasting time.

“Hello, dear. There is something I need to speak with you about,” she said from the get-go. As expected, she sounded serious.

“Is everything all right? Are you okay?” I asked.

Considering I had lost my father very young, and my mom was all I had left, I was always pretty concerned about her health, especially since she was reaching her seventies. Thankfully, she usually knew how to take care of herself.

“I’m all right,” she immediately reassured. “It is about the estate, my news.”

I frowned. What could possibly be wrong with the estate? I wondered.

Then again, I knew it would be like this. I was the proud owner for no more than a few days and already problems had started. That was just my luck.

“What about it?” I asked with a deep frown, although she couldn’t see me.

For the last couple of days, Anna had been trying to convince me that it would be prudent for the two of us to move there, so we could fix the place, if needed, and make it presentable for sale. Alright, I wasn’t opposed to that idea in theory, but there was one thing that needed changing. I didn’t want to go there with Anna but with Marianne.

Once Anna presented that to me, I thought about it and realized that it would be the best hiding place for my girlfriend. And ever since then, I had been trying to convince her how it would be good for her, for the both of us, to go upstate, at least for a little bit, until the dust settled with Cameron.

At the same time, we could get the place ready and even show it to potential buyers. As far as I was concerned, it was a win-win kind of situation. Unfortunately, Marianne was reluctant to say yes, which frustrated me to no end.

Although she looked pretty desperate to leave New York because she feared Cameron that much, she was hesitant to come with me, and I had no idea why. Her stalling made me start thinking she was using all of it as an excuse to break up with me.

I even confronted her about it, but she reassured me that the hesitation she felt had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with leaving her business, the only thing she had in this world that belonged completely to her. Nonetheless, I couldn’t say for sure if I believed her. There was a chance that all her experiences with Cameron scared her off of trying something real and serious with me. Which was not fair to me at all.

“The venue doesn’t matter, your skill does,” I tried to reassure, although I had no idea how successful I was considering we were all still in New York, with Anna pestering me every day to make a decision.

I couldn’t wait to tell her I had already made it; it was just that it wasn’t the one she was hoping for.

“All my clients are here,” she argued in return.

“You can find new clients,” I stressed. “Please, think about it.”

She promised that she would. All the same, she still had no answer for me.

I returned to the here and now, listening to what my mom had to say. “There is a mentally ill squatter living on the estate, and he is refusing to leave,” she informed.

“What?” I exclaimed, genuinely shocked. “How do you know that?” I asked in return.

“The gardener told me, and then I went and saw him.”

“You did what? What are you doing, going to that house alone?” I chastised.

“Someone had to, considering you are too lazy to move a muscle,” she reprimanded.

Had Anna spoken with her by any chance? I wondered.

I made a face. I decided to change the subject. “Tell me more about this squatter.”

“There’s not much to tell. He is living in one of the side buildings, and that’s that.”

“How can he just move in, into someone’s else home,” I ranted.

“He saw it empty and took advantage of it,” my mother replied simply.

I gritted my teeth. “Well, that’s not acceptable. That’s not decent or right. He’s breaking the law.”

“He’s mentally ill, dear. I believe that the decent side of him has left the building.”

I didn’t appreciate her humor at a time like this. This was a serious matter.

“What am I supposed to do now?” I asked in exasperation. To be honest, I didn’t like the idea of going there to confront him or chase him away. You could never be certain if people were dangerous or not. Everything could change in an instant.

Then again, what other choice did I have? I couldn’t be there with Marianne; I couldn’t sell the house with some homeless man living there.

All my plans crumbled before my eyes. This is a nightmare.

“I suggest you call the sheriff, dear, and let him know what’s been going on,” she offered.

Why couldn’t the gardener do that?

“Okay, I’ll do that,” I said instead.

Once we finished our conversation, with her reassuring me the house itself was in great shape, which was a small comfort, I started looking for the proper phone number, for the sheriff’s department that was responsible for that district.

I knew I could have called 911, but I didn’t feel like explaining my problems multiple times while they forwarded me indefinitely. Besides, this wasn’t an emergency after all.

Isn’t it? An unknown, possibly dangerous man is living in your house!

All the same, I managed to get in touch with Sheriff Price.

“What can I do you for, Mr. Wilson?” he rumbled in my ear.

“I was made aware that a certain homeless man has taken up residence at my estate. I live in New York City, you see, and just inherited the property,” I explained.

“You’re talking about James Wilson’s place?” he inquired, sounding snide.

“Yes. I’m his nephew.”

“Of course you are. My guys and I are aware of this individual, and I can assure you he is completely harmless.”

I made a face. What did that have to do with anything?

“I am glad to hear that, considering my mother is currently at the house, all alone; however, that’s not fixing anything. He is trespassing after all. And he can’t stay there. Can’t you arrest him or something?”

“Arrest him? For what?” the sheriff asked in return, dead serious.

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“Well, he’s living in someone else’s home. Isn’t that a crime, breaking and entering?”

“Do you have evidence of forced entry?”

“Well, I’m not there myself at the moment.”

“Then it doesn’t sound like he’s broken in, does it?”

“So, what am I supposed to do?”

“Mr. Wilson, if you want that man gone⁠—”

Of course I wanted him gone. What was I supposed to do? Allow him to stay, hope new owners wouldn’t mind a homeless person squatting in one of the side buildings. Ridiculous.

“—then you will have to go through eviction proceedings.”

“Is that really the best option?”

“That is the only option,” he was adamant, and his tone was almost offensive.

I gritted my teeth. This was outrageous. The sheriff obviously couldn’t wait to get rid of me, without offering anything useful beforehand.

I had no idea what an eviction proceeding was; however, it sounded very expensive. And naturally, that one would have to come out of my pocket.

Fucking homeless person, I fumed.

This was the last thing I needed at the moment. I couldn’t afford to spend even more money on legal shit and waste time on stupid bureaucracy. Not to mention that it could potentially anger an unpredictable, possibly dangerous person. There was no telling what he might do after discovering I’d taken legal measures against him.

Would he honestly care? He is some lunatic squatter. Legal matters were probably the last thing on his mind or minds; I had no idea how many people resided inside his head.

All the same, what other choice did I have? If Sheriff Price said this was the only way, then that was the only course of action. I needed that homeless man gone because I definitely couldn’t sell the house while he was residing there.

I have to go there, I realized. I couldn’t postpone it any longer. Fuck.

I would have to go upstate and see for myself what the hell was going on. I had to deal with this problem on my own because, apparently, there was nobody that could help me.

Irked and frustrated, I went to see Marianne because I needed to speak with someone who would understand. Also, perhaps this was the way to finally convince her to come with me. I was sure she would want to help.

She looked surprised to see me when I entered her tattoo shop. And something more. Was she irritated? Although I had no idea why that would be the case. “I don’t have an answer for you, Paul,” she said as a way of greeting.

“That’s not why I came,” I replied a bit defensively.

“I wish you had called first. I have clients all day,” she said, clearly thinking I came to have sex with her.

I could manage not being with her. I came to talk after all. I settled in a chair that was empty, one that gave me a clear view of her face.

She was in the process of sterilizing her equipment so she could deal with her next client. A barely legal, giggling girl. I bet she would ask for a butterfly.

I sent my girl an air kiss, not wanting to disturb her while she worked, but once having her full face in sight, I was appalled.

“What happened to your eye?” I asked. It was completely black and blue, as though someone hit her with a fist.

Someone, Cameron. That bastard.

“It’s nothing,” she tried to brush it away, and I was having none of it.

“I thought you said you left him.”

“I did,” she snapped in return.

“Then why are you still seeing him?”

“It’s not like he leaves me any choice,” she replied, irked.

Since she was on the verge of tears, I got up off my chair so I could hug her. “Everything will be all right as soon as I sell the house. He won’t be able to find you once we get a place of our own.”

She said nothing to that.

“Speaking of the house, you won’t believe the day I had.”

Marianne simply looked at me, so I continued speaking.

“You won’t believe what I discovered, actually what Mom discovered,” I corrected. “And I can tell, even now, it’s going to be a major hassle.”

“Paul, I really can’t listen to you right now,” she interrupted me, breaking the contact. “I’m busy.”

“Why are you snapping at me?” I asked, hurt.

“Because you’re not listening,” she snapped, clearly irked.

I pursed my lips before saying. “Just because you’re having a bad day doesn’t mean you should bite my head off. I’m going through something as well.” Not that she cared to ask me anything about it.

“Then go through it someplace else.” She gestured toward the door. “Leave.”

I shook my head and left without saying anything else. Of course, I left. I couldn’t stay while she acted like that. While she treated me as though I was the bad guy when I didn’t do anything wrong.

She wasn’t really angry with me but at Cameron. Sadly, knowing that changed nothing. I took a deep breath getting into my car. I didn’t feel like going home. I called Dean instead.

“What’s up?” he greeted, cheerfully, in his usual manner.

“I’m coming to pick you up,” I informed before hanging up. We didn’t need to spend hours on the phone to end up hanging out together. We weren’t women after all.

I started the car and drove straight to Dean’s place. Drinking with my buddy was preferable to facing my wife’s stony silence at home, I decided. Once I picked Dean up, I told him all about my problems, about a homeless man squatting at my house, and Marianne acting all crazy.

He was very sympathetic. We chatted for a bit when, all of a sudden, Dean stopped replying to me, completely. He just kept staring through the side mirror.

“What is wrong with you?” I asked, losing patience with his weirdness.

“Bro, I don’t want to alarm you, but I think someone is following us,” he informed me.

I had no idea how to respond to that.

Someone following me, for whatever reason, was a shitty ending to an already perfectly shitty day. A freaking cherry on top.

ELEVEN

PAUL

I immediately started looking back, trying to see what Dean was seeing.

“What do you mean someone is following us?” I stressed. Is he high? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d smoked some weed and then started tripping on me.

“Don’t turn around, play it cool,” Dean advised.

“Where are they?” I asked impatiently.

“It’s that white Chevy, right behind us,” Dean replied.

“Why are you whispering? He can’t hear us,” I snapped.

I looked, and true enough, there was a car matching that description behind us. That wasn’t the worst part. Thinking back, I had absolutely seen that car before.

Nearby Marianne’s shop. Was it possible? No, that would be insane, my mind rebelled.

“I saw it in front of my building. It’s been following us ever since,” Dean explained.

“It’s just a coincidence,” I tried to brush it off, but I kept my eye on it all the same.

“Let’s test if he’s really following us, like in the movies,” Dean suggested.

I nodded. “All right.”

I took a random turn to the right. I continued driving and made a couple of more right turns next. We ended up making a full circle. Unfortunately, the car stayed behind us.

“Son of a bitch,” I cursed.

“I told you.”

What was I supposed to do now? Why was this happening?

“Can you see who’s behind the wheel?” I asked. That was the most important question.

If it was Anna, acting all jealous all of a sudden, I could handle that. However, if it was who I suspected it was, then I was screwed.

“Some dude. I can’t see his face properly, though.”

Fuck.

It was Cameron. I knew it was. There was nobody else crazy enough to start following me. And Cameron was batshit crazy, as it turned out. This guy had no problem giving his wife a black eye, for no particular reason. I could only imagine what he was going to do to me, since I was fucking her, once he caught me. I didn’t want to think about it. Instinctively, I tightened a grip on the wheel.

“Try to shake him,” Dean suggested, ever so helpful.

“I don’t know how to do that,” I said through gritted teeth. It wasn’t like I had a course in school that could prepare me for something like that. That only reinforced my opinion, that school was completely useless in life.

I digressed. I had to remain focused and figure out how to get out of this mess.

Should I call Marianne? I immediately dismissed that. I was still mad at her for being a bitch without reason. Then again, it would be nice to rub her nose into this, so she would feel guilty for not being nice to me.

I was absolutely going to do that. If I survive this. I shook my head.

“Turn here, now,” Dean yelled all of a sudden.

I simply did what I was told. It was a sharp turn, and the car protested a little, yet I managed.

“Floor it, and go through there,” Dean continued to bark orders.

The white car stayed right behind us no matter what. This was really starting to feel like a car chase.

Oh, my fucking shit. Someone was actually following me. This was no nightmare or a movie. I had someone on my tail, and he was adamant he was going to catch me, because since I accelerated, the other car accelerated as well, and didn’t stop.

“Turn here,” Dean advised again.

“This is not working, Dean,” I complained.

I was turning this way and that, and yet that crazy motherfucker was still behind us. And to make matters worse, I was sure that by now he’d figured out what was going on, that we were aware of his presence, and were trying to shake him. What if that pisses him off even further? At the same time, there wasn’t much I could do about it either way.

“We have to keep trying,” Dean encouraged.

I gritted my teeth. How did professionals do this? They made it look so easy in the movies, but it wasn’t.

Maybe we need denser traffic, I mused. Then again, I didn’t want to cause a traffic accident. I simply wanted this maniac to stop chasing after me. What to do?

“He is speeding up again,” Dean informed.

“I can see that.”

Apparently, Cameron had enough of this driving around and decided to make his move. Naturally, I had no idea what that move entailed. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure I was about to find out. I knew I wouldn’t like it one bit.

I had a clear view of the other car’s driver for a moment before it glued itself to my rear, trying to hit me. It was definitely Cameron. I’d seen his picture at Marianne’s, so I knew what that crazy bastard looked like.

Although the version driving behind me was clearly pissed off, his face disfigured by rage, nostrils flaring, screaming something, although I couldn’t hear anything from the roar of the engines, it was definitely him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I cursed over and over as I tried to figure out how to get away.

And then the crazy motherfucker actually hit us. Dean’s head bounced forward so hard he almost hit the dashboard.

“Hit the gas,” he screamed in panic.

I already did. I couldn’t go any faster, fearing I would lose control of the car. Were those my only options? Getting harmed by Cameron or having a car accident?

Bumping me one more time, he accelerated to reach me at the side. He was waving with his hands like a maniac, coming at me from the left. I barely missed being hit by him.

“What did you do to piss him off so much?” Dean wondered in an exasperated manner.

“This is Marianne’s husband.”

“Got it. We are about to die because you had to fuck the wrong woman.”

“Shut up, we are not going to die.”

Are we?

Cameron gestured for me to roll my window down.

I really didn’t want to. I did all the same.

“You’re a dead man,” he raged.

I rolled the window back up. Apparently, there was no point in reasoning with this man.

How to survive this? I stressed over and over.

“Turn here, now,” Dean pointed.

I turned abruptly, and at such a speed, my car swayed a little, or a lot, it was hard keeping up with all the shit that was happening. It worked, somewhat. It definitely threw Cameron off a little, so he was once again having to play catch-up. Having an ex-military psycho-maniac after me was no fun at all.

Why won’t he leave me alone?

“Should we call the police?” Dean wondered.

“And say what?” I stressed the words. “Excuse me, but can you please send help, my girlfriend’s husband is chasing me.”

More to the point, I didn’t even know what street we were on at the moment.

“Yeah, why not? It’s the truth.”

I shook my head. “Nobody would take us seriously.” I was sure of that. They would assume it was a prank call. A few stoners messing with 911. And while we wasted time, Cameron could seriously harm us.

We need a better plan. Sadly, I had none.

“I’m calling anyway.” Dean pulled out his phone and stared at it. “Damn it, it’s dead, where’s yours?”

“I don’t know, I’m a little busy right now.” I spared him half a glance.

Apparently, Cameron got even more enraged, although it would be logical to assume something like that was impossible at that point. I was ignoring his rants, though, and he slammed into the left side of the car, again. We swayed hard, and I barely regained control of the car.

“Oh my God,” Dean exclaimed. “Dude is crazy.”

Cameron tried again, but I was prepared for it and slammed on the brakes. I managed to accomplish not being hit. Unfortunately, I wasn’t so aware of my surroundings, being fixated on the maniac who was trying to kill me. Fuck.

I hit another car, a parked car, so my car started to rotate, and we ended up hitting a light pole. It all happened in a split second. Or at least it appeared like that to me. Both front seat airbags got activated. They pinned us in place. My face also felt as though I was just slapped by a brick wall.

It took me a moment, or ten, to start functioning again.

I looked toward Dean. “You okay?” I asked.

“I don’t know, everything hurts,” he whined.

I took that as a sign he was just fine. “We need to get out of here,” I said, trying to figure out where we were. My car was wrecked, which meant I would need a cab. That psycho made me wreck my car. I was beyond pissed.

I tried my door handle, and it wouldn’t budge. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” Dean asked, while still struggling with his airbag.

“Stop playing,” I snapped at him, irked.

“This is harder to do than it looks,” he complained.

I rolled my eyes. “My door isn’t working. I can’t open it,” I explained, as I pulled and pushed, using all my strength, yet nothing happened. Apparently when Cameron slammed his car into mine, he did something, jammed it, broke the mechanism, whatever. The end result was the same: I was stuck.

Fuck, can this day get any shittier? I grumbled.

“Let’s just use mine,” Dean offered.

As soon as he opened the door, he closed it as fast as possible, making sure it was locked.

I frowned at his strange behavior because it was so abrupt. “What are you doing?” I demanded.

“I think it’s better for us if we stay put, look.”

I followed his gaze.

Oh shit. For a moment there I completely forgot about Marianne’s ex. I definitely thought about him now.

Cameron was approaching the car, and he was holding a plastic canister in his right hand. There was a grim determination on his face as he ate the distance with his long stride.

The guy was massive. Not simply tall, but really muscular. In some other life, he could have played for the NFL, and I wasn’t even joking. He was huge. No wonder he acted as though he was at the top of the food chain.

“Paul, what is he doing? What’s that in his hand?” Dean panicked beside me.

I felt exactly the same. “I don’t know,” I replied honestly. But it couldn’t be anything good. The man promised he would kill me. Looking at his face, his cold eyes, I had no problem believing he meant that quite literally.

Once he reached the front of the car, he just looked at me for a few heartbeats, and then he smiled. It wasn’t a humorous smile. It was more of a predatory show of teeth, pouring as much aggression into it as possible.

I could only stare in return, in a cold panic, as Cameron unscrewed the canister and started pouring something over my wrecked car. I didn’t have to be a genius to know that it was gasoline.

Oh my God, I knew exactly what he was planning on doing, and there was nothing I could do about it. I had a strange out-of-body experience. Although I was fully in the moment, at the same time, I felt like a mere spectator as well. I could only observe what was happening while it was happening, without actually doing anything.

“Paul,” Dean cried out next to me.

Very slowly, as though he was savoring the moment or something, Cameron took out the lighter from his pocket and gently pressed it against the hood of my car; it instantly went ablaze. He lit the car on fire, with us still inside. He wanted that. I could see the utmost resolve in his eyes. He wanted me dead. He wanted us to burn alive.

And there was nothing I could do about it. I was trapped, trapped in a burning, wrecked car, as he continued to silently stare at me.

I am going to die…

TWELVE

PAUL

People used to say that once you were fully aware you were about to die, an all-consuming sense of peace and calmness washed over your whole being. That did not happen to me.

My whole life did not flash in front of my eyes, remembering all the good and bad that represented my whole existence, although I did have enough time to wonder exactly how it all ended up like this.

Was it fair that my life should end by fire, being burned alive by my girlfriend’s husband? Of course not. All the same, my life showed me many times how unfair it could get.

“Paul, what are we going to do? The fucking car is on fire,” Dean screamed into my ear, stating the obvious like always.

I couldn’t reply. I couldn’t move. I simply looked at the man who was killing me, killing us.

It was funny how, when I was younger, I was pretty sure I would fight if a situation like this arose. Not that I imagined ever being burned alive. But if something was to happen, if I was in danger, I would do my all, and fight with my whole might to survive.

Well, the moment did come, and I did absolutely nothing.

Cameron looked me in the eyes as I sat with my best friend in a burning car. The car was starting to slowly fill with smoke; all the same, I could still see him, feel his eyes on me. Is it hot in here?

“We have to get out of this car, Paul,” Dean stressed. “It’s going to explode.”

Not even that moved me. Why couldn’t I move? Then again, why bother? Even if I got out, I knew Cameron would just kill me with his bare hands.

“We can’t die like this. Please, Paul, do something.”

And then something quite unexpected happened. Cameron looked behind us, to the left, and then started running away. He got into his car and drove away at full speed.

“He’s gone, come on,” Dean encouraged. “Paul, come on,” he started shaking me, vigorously. “We have to move.”

He opened the passenger door and got out, dragging me with him. I glanced back; my car was wrecked and was still on fire. Not that I expected it would magically extinguish itself once we left it.

It was a horrifying sight. That was supposed to be my tomb. It nearly was. What did Cameron see that made him run away? I coughed like crazy. It hurt so much I believed I was about to cough up a lung.

This was close. We barely managed to get out before the smoke, or fire, whichever came first, managed to kill us. I couldn’t stop coughing, and neither could Dean. My eyes were watering. This was close.

This was too fucking close. I almost died because some lunatic couldn’t handle the fact his wife didn’t love him anymore. It would be an understatement to say I was in utter shock that something like this had actually happened to me, to us. Another human being tried to kill me.

I thought that only happened to bad guys, and characters in movies, never in real life, never without reason. Yet here I was, barely alive, with my car completely ruined because someone wanted to do me harm. Unbelievable.

Shortly after, a police car stopped in front of us. I instantly realized that was the reason why Cameron ran away. He must have seen them approaching. That coward.

“He ran away that way. The man who did this,” Dean explained while pointing.

Although the two officers nodded, they didn’t do anything about it. Police work at its finest.

They did in fact move us away from the burning wreckage, my car, clearly fearing it could explode. I loved that car, Mom bought it for me for my thirty-fifth birthday,

Did she buy me insurance as well? I thought. I knew I had to have insurance; the card was in the car somewhere. Probably the glovebox. Which was on fire.

As it turned out, a car massively exploding, Hollywood-style, rarely happened in real life. And it never happened as fast as it did in movies. I was informed of that by the police. So, when the fire department came, they extinguished it with ease.

Apparently, one of the people passing by saw everything that happened, the chase, my crash, and Cameron’s final act, and called the police, and firefighters too. That man saved our lives.

Both Dean and I went to shake hands with the guy who called the cops to say thank you for what he did, for helping us.

“No need to thank me. I did what any reasonable person would,” he replied.

His name was Thornton something, and we were lucky he was around and willing to help. Most people would simply turn their heads to the other side. Most people did do that, selfish bastards. Luckily, all we needed was for one person to act differently, to change everything, and save our lives.

Although I was sure I had never met the guy before, he still looked pretty familiar to me. It was just that I couldn’t put my finger on how. At the same time, there was a chance my near-death experience was messing with my head, imagining things. Being in shock filled my head with all kinds of nonsense, I realized.

Marianne’s husband tried to kill me, actually kill me, for real. Kill Dean too. That was absolutely horrifying. He was a complete psycho, and he belonged in prison for what he did, for what he tried to do. There was no doubt about that.

That was precisely why I told the police everything that I knew about Cameron once they asked who did this to us. He needed to be caught and locked up for good, clearly being a danger to society.

Dean, and that witness, Thornton, corroborated everything. Each of us gave a statement, and I was hoping that meant they would have Cameron in custody as soon as possible before he could do even more damage. Before he could harm anyone else, like Marianne.

Speaking of Marianne, I had to call her and tell her what happened. At the same time, I felt like I couldn’t do that while all these cops and firefighters were around me. Not to mention how paramedics came as well, to check us out, and take us to the hospital.

Dean and I refused to be taken anywhere, we were fine. We stopped coughing once we got to breathe some oxygen, and besides, I didn’t want to scare my mom or have her come pick me up from a hospital. I knew I could call Anna, but for some reason, I didn’t want to.

She would ask how this happened, and if I told her the truth, it would just cause her to be angry with me all over again. And I couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else at the moment. Then again, I could lie. However, there was a chance Dean would say something wrong, and she would discover the truth all the same.

Each time I closed my eyes, I could see Cameron, standing in front of me, his stone-cold eyes watching me as I burned to death. He actually wanted that, to kill me.

Oh my God, what a mess.

I need a drink. Or ten.

I now completely understood why Marianne was so afraid of Cameron. She should be afraid. We all should since he was completely unhinged. Before this day, when she spoke about him, I didn’t fully believe her. I thought she was exaggerating.

I believed she was simply too lenient with him, that she was the one who allowed all of it to happen because she liked being a victim and something like that. I was wrong.

He was an animal, and nobody was safe while he was on the loose. And he will be extra dangerous now, being on the run, scared the police might catch him. There was no telling what he might do now, out of desperation.

Oh my God, I stopped myself there because I was freaked out too much already; I really didn’t need to add more to it.

Once everything was settled, so to speak, the police officers offered to take Dean and me home. I accepted, figuring that was the least they could do after allowing Cameron to escape.

When I finally got home, Mom and Anna were waiting for me in the living room.

I hadn’t expected Mom would come. I texted her, explaining to her what had happened, and reassured her I was all right, but apparently, she needed to see that for herself.

I was glad she was there. She rushed to hug me.

“Mom, I reek of smoke,” I warned as she tightened her grip around my stomach.

“My dear boy,” she said as her voice wavered. “Are you all right? Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

“I’m fine, just need to shower and change out of these clothes.”

“You’re home and safe, that’s all I care about.”

Anna remained sitting on the couch. She hadn’t moved a muscle to come and greet me. It was hard not having a caring wife in my life.

Once I washed away the near tragedy that could have happened today, I returned to the living room and sat on the couch. Some homemade biscuits and a cup of coffee waited for me on the table. I knew my mother prepared that for me, not Anna.

“So, what happened, Paul?” Anna looked curious to know.

I sighed and told them everything. Mostly everything. I accidentally failed to mention I recognized the guy.

Anna was frowning the entire time I spoke. It was very unnerving, not to mention frustrating, to see that. I almost died, and here she was, questioning my words.

Her next comment proved as much. “Some random guy chased you around New York City, and then set the car on fire? With you and Dean inside,” she challenged. “Did he mistake you for someone else?”

I gritted my teeth. She could be really infuriating at times. And then I realized there was no point in hiding the truth anyway. I almost died. It was time to stop pretending. Besides, as I mentioned before, she would learn the truth on her own either way, so I might as well come clean and finally free myself from her, from this suffocating, unnatural, thing called marriage.

“It wasn’t a completely random guy,” I confessed.

“Who was it, Paul?” my mother prompted.

“It was the husband of a woman I have been seeing.” I wasn’t looking at Anna while I said that; however, I could still sense, and feel, her piercing stare on me.

“You mean a girl you used to see, before Anna?” Mom said, confused.

“No, Noreen, he means he is having an affair,” Anna explained, ever so helpful.

“Oh, Paul,” my mother said shaking her head in a disapproving manner.

I scoffed. “Hey, I almost died. I’m lucky to be alive and here with you now. If the police hadn’t arrived at that precise moment, I would have died because of that psychopath,” I defended. “It wasn’t my fault. He went completely ballistic for whatever reason.”

“You’re right,” my mom said, clearly ashamed.

“I’m happy you survived; however, you do have to take some responsibility,” Anna spoke again.

“Excuse me?”

“If you hadn’t slept around with a married woman…” She left the sentence hanging.

“Then what? I wouldn’t have almost ended up burned to a crisp?” I finished instead of her, irked to no end. She was really acting like a pure bitch at the moment. I couldn’t believe she was doing this to me now. So selfish. “Is that really what you are thinking? That’s insane,” I snapped at her, losing patience.

“Actions have consequences, Paul,” Anna argued in return.

“I almost died,” I stressed the words. “Do you care at all?” Or would you be thrilled learning you became a widow? I bit my tongue before adding that. My mom was there, and I did not like arguing in front of her. And although Anna knew that, she tried to provoke me.

I could not believe her attitude. She was making it sound as though this was all my fault. And it wasn’t. It wasn’t my fault Marianne’s husband was crazy.

“Of course I care that you are still alive,” Anna said in return. “Nevertheless, if you can’t see your portion of the blame in this, then there’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“I really can’t handle this, you attacking me for no reason, after almost burning to death in a car.”

“Both of you need to calm down,” my mom warned, coming to stand between the two of us like some peacekeeper.

Anna shook her head, as if revolted, and stormed out of the house. And I was glad. I couldn’t look at her, after all the things she’d said to me. That was the last thing I needed at the moment, dealing with an unsympathetic, cold wife after almost dying.

“Paul, you made a mistake,” Mom started.

I interrupted her. “Please, Mom, don’t lecture me, I have been through enough.”

“I know, but being with another woman while married is wrong.”

“Mom, please go home. I want to be alone for a bit.”

She protested a little, wanting to be here for me. All the same, I was adamant, so she listened and left me alone. Women, I grumbled. I felt so tired all of a sudden.

I need a drink.

I grabbed a bottle of whiskey we had in the house for special occasions and started drinking it straight from the bottle without bothering to pour a glass first.

I almost died today; those words rang in my head.

I almost freaking died.

About halfway through, I decided it was time to call Marianne and tell her how her stupid husband almost killed me. He would have succeeded if it wasn’t for the police.

“Hello?” she answered. She sounded weird. What time was it? I had no idea.

“I’m sorry, you were right,” I confessed as my emotions overcame me. “He came with a lighter and gasoline. I tried to lose him, and I couldn’t. He’s crazy,” I explained. I was trying really hard to explain everything that was on my mind, inside my heart, pressing my soul.

“You’re drunk, Paul,” Marianne stated the obvious in return.

I chuckled. “Yeah.” I had to get properly drunk. That was the only way I could stop picturing those eyes. Cold, murderous eyes.

“Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.” And saying that, she hung up on me.

Women…

THIRTEEN

ANNA

When Thornton called me, at first, I thought nothing of it. He called me all the time, sometimes simply to check up on me, and see how my day was. I can’t even remember the last time Paul did that, if he ever did. Then Thornton shared something absolutely horrible with me. Something I set in motion, I caused, I created, and it rattled me to the core.

While Thornton was following Paul around, simply to double check if Marianne was his only mistress – she was, although he flirted, and was in contact online with a lot of other women – something terrible happened.

Thornton had noticed he wasn’t the only one following Paul around, and unlike him, this other individual did not try to remain inconspicuous. More to the point, he wanted his presence known because his motives were completely different. Cameron, Marianne’s husband, the man I visited and convinced to scare Paul into compliance. Apparently, he took my words about scaring Paul a bit differently than I’d intended.

I learned from Thornton that as soon as Paul left Marianne’s shop, the hunt was on; however, it didn’t really start until Paul picked up Dean. At some point, Paul and Dean realized they were being followed, since Cameron wasn’t subtle at all, and started chasing them around town.

I shook from head to toe as Thornton told me the story, having those vivid images in front of my eyes. Cameron actually tried to kill two people and burn them alive. And it was all my fault.

I did that, I was responsible because if I hadn’t spoken with Cameron, riled him up, and shared how his wife was having an affair, then none of it would have happened.

Thornton reassured me both men were fine. He called the police in time, preventing the tragedy from happening. Thank God he was there.

Thornton had played witness, while Paul and Dean gave Cameron’s name and description to the police, so they knew whom they were looking for and exactly who was responsible.

All the same, I was wracked with guilt. That was too close of a call, and something that never should have happened in the first place. But it did, because of me.

I always chastised Paul about how he was never aware of his actions, and the consequences for them. And here I was doing the very same thing. These were the consequences of my actions, there was no doubt about that. And I would have to live with that for the rest of my life.

Thornton warned me not to get involved because Cameron wasn’t a person anyone should mess with, but I had refused to listen. Cameron was completely unhinged, and volatile. I knew that now, and he almost killed two people because I wouldn’t listen, because I pushed him into action, and this was the end result.

I almost killed my husband and his best friend, being too blind by the end game. Thank God it didn’t come to that. Thank God Thornton was there, to prevent that tragedy. I would never be able to forgive myself otherwise.

“Do you need me to come over?” Thornton asked me, clearly concerned.

He knew what I had done. He knew I was guilty, and was still nice to me. That made me feel even worse. I didn’t deserve that. I deserved to be yelled at and so much more.

I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “No, I’m all right.” I lied. “Besides, I’m sure Paul will be home soon.”

Once we hung up, I cried my eyes out in utter despair, and relief that I wasn’t a murderer. Luckily, I managed to pull myself together before Noreen dropped by. Apparently, Paul told her what happened, and she rushed over to make sure he was all right.

I couldn’t fail to notice how he didn’t send anything to me, he didn’t call or text as though I was completely unimportant in his life. Not even a near-death experience made him appreciate me more.

I would be lying if I said that didn’t hurt a little, despite everything.

It was true that we both fell out of love. It was true I unintentionally almost killed him. However, I believed that mutual respect for what we shared in the past remained. I was clearly wrong.

Eventually, Paul came home, and he looked as bad as I could imagine. He looked exhausted, shaken, a little bruised, banged up, and he absolutely reeked of smoke, and I was once again confronted with what I did.

I couldn’t move from my seat on the couch, too afraid Paul and Noreen would learn something was wrong with me. That I was the one who caused Paul’s “accident.”

I never meant that to happen.

I only wanted Cameron to speak to Paul, not hurt him, not try to kill him, yet once Paul started talking about the event, trying to take advantage of the fact he was a victim, in this case, I lost all sympathy I felt for him because it showed how he would never change.

No matter what, he would remain a selfish bastard, and not even a near-death experience could change that. And that was just sad, among other things.

It infuriated me the most that he acted as though all of this happened to him by chance. As if all of it was a pure misfortune and nothing else. There was no involvement of any kind on his part. He didn’t feel it was consequential he was sleeping around with a married woman.

And I got mad. I called him out for his bullshit. Naturally, he didn’t like that. I rushed out of the house. Walked aimlessly for hours.

It was really hard pointing a finger at who infuriated me more in those moments: Noreen or Paul.

Noreen was always coddling him too much and completely brushed over the fact Paul finally admitted, and in front of her, that he was having an affair. In her mind, that was merely the foolishness of a man, but didn’t mean anything. Men cheat, but they always go back to their wives, because they know their place, she told me many years ago, and I remembered it now.

At the time, I wondered why she decided to share that with me. And now I finally knew. It was because she always suspected what Paul had been doing to me, and still did nothing, said nothing, and turned a blind eye because her son could do no wrong.

That hurt me more than the actual betrayal on his part because I really loved her, like a second mother, and thought she loved me too. Then again, I always knew she loved Paul above all else; nothing and no one could ever come close to him. That was precisely why she never remarried, although I knew there were some serious candidates. The only man in Noreen’s life was Paul.

On the other hand, Paul was infuriating because he showed zero remorse for humiliating me in such a manner, for lying to me, for sneaking around behind my back and sleeping with another woman, all while still sleeping with me, I might add.

He wanted to be with Marianne, so he was, without any regard toward me or our marriage, and he saw nothing wrong with that. Apparently, he didn’t hit his head hard enough to reach an epiphany and finally see the errors of his ways. Which was a shame.

I was also angry with myself as well, disappointed because I allowed myself to be bothered by it all. From now on, I would be much colder and think only about myself. Everyone else did, so it was time I joined the party. That was the only way I would get what I wanted.

At the same time, I needed to be really smart going forward and not make the same mistakes as with Cameron. That was impulsive. That was stupid. And could never happen again.

I truly wanted Cameron caught for what he did, for what he wanted to do; he was clearly a very disturbed person, who failed to see the difference between scaring someone and killing him and needed to be locked up, for his own good, for the sake of others. And yet, at the same time, no matter how appalled I was by it all, I still felt slightly bad for him. I did this to him. I set Cameron on that path, and he clearly got carried away, not being able to control his bad temper. Not that I was making any excuses for him. He was a bad man who did bad things and needed to be held responsible for it. But I had to acknowledge my part in the story as well.

If it wasn’t for me sharing what I knew and putting ideas into his head, then maybe he would simply continue to bark without actually biting. Sadly, I had decided to meddle, impatient by Paul’s indecisiveness, and this was the end result; Cameron was on the run because the police were looking for him, to arrest him, for attempted double murder.

What if he shares my visit to him with the police? I thought, having a moment of pure panic, and terror, but I forced myself to calm down.

Cameron didn’t seem the type who would do something like that, tattle on me. Especially since he wanted Paul, and everyone else, to know how he wanted him dead. His rage wouldn’t have it any other way.

All the same, even if he did mention something, and they came for me, I would explain to the police my involvement without hiding anything. I would admit my faults, a lack of judgment. After all, I didn’t do anything wrong, merely spoke with the man, and shared something that was hurting me, that my husband was having an affair with his wife.

I wasn’t responsible because he decided to go on a murder spree. I would insist I had nothing to do with the car chase or the fact Cameron set Paul’s car on fire with him still inside. That was all on him, and I was sure the police would see it that way as well. Because that was the truth. Cameron did that, all by his crazy self.

I merely pushed him in the right direction.

Should I tell Thornton this is all my fault? I wondered. Although I’d told him I planned on seeing Cameron, I was economical with the facts. I didn’t want to keep anything from him, but at the same time, I felt ashamed of what I did. I was so desperate that I did a very stupid thing. And there was a part of me that was reluctant to admit that to Thornton because I didn’t want him to think less of me.

Then again, considering he was a very skilled PI, there was a huge possibility he already knew the truth without me telling him anything. And he still asked me if I needed some support from him.

I closed my eyes for a moment, exhaling loudly.

What a mess. What a freaking mess.

And to make matters worse, with Paul admitting his infidelity, and so casually as though it was no big deal, I couldn’t predict what he might do next.

He could file for divorce tomorrow and then I would be screwed. I couldn’t allow that, because my bakery seriously needed a monetary infusion, and I was really counting on the money coming from selling the estate.

I had to figure out a way to prevent Paul from thinking about divorce. I had to make myself indispensable, although I had no idea how to do that, especially considering how strained the relationship between the two of us was. We couldn’t seem to stop fighting. No matter what.

With what happened, with Paul revealing his infidelity, I felt like all the cards were up in the air. And there was no telling what hand I might end up with now.

To make matters worse, there was nothing I could do about it.

Perhaps that is for the best, I tried to comfort myself. Because even when I tried to do something, to meddle, it turned to shit, and someone almost ended up burned to a crisp. And it went without saying something like that could not repeat in the future.

No matter how much I needed the money, I couldn’t allow Paul to come to any harm. Especially considering that wives were always the prime suspects.

My aimless wanderings took me straight to Thornton. I really needed him tonight.

“Anna?” Thornton said with surprise when he opened the door. He smiled and pulled it open wider. “Come in.”

I slipped in past him and, then, after he shut the door, followed him into his living room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go. Everything is a mess and it’s all my fault.” I burst into tears.

Thornton gathered me in his arms and let me cry on his shoulder. He rubbed my back as I told him everything. Every sordid detail of what I’d done. He murmured sweetly as he let me get it all out, telling me it was all going to be alright.

I leaned back and wiped my eyes. “You don’t hate me?”

He smiled and ran his thumb over my cheek, brushing away my tears. “Never. And you don’t have to worry anymore, sweetness. I’ll protect you. I’ll always protect you.” His eyes met mine as he leaned in. He hesitated for a moment, and I was afraid that he would back off, so I pressed my lips to his, and his arms folded around me.

In his arms, for the first time in years, I felt safe and loved and very much protected. I wished I never had to leave.

FOURTEEN

ANNA

“How could a dumb ass lump of meat like Cameron possibly be good at tracking and tailing people?” Dean asked as he sat on our couch drinking beer with Paul as I walked in the door.

“That dumb ass lump of meat was in the military,” Paul pointed out.

“You think he will dare to come here?” I asked with concern, entering the living room.

“He dared to set us on fire in the middle of the street in broad daylight,” Dean replied, snorting.

“I think there’s a pretty good chance he will try,” Paul replied.

I could tell he was already more than half drunk and seemed to be wallowing in self-pity. He sounded nervous too. I leaned on the edge of the couch and wondered if maybe we should get out of town for a while. The question was, where could we go that Cameron wouldn’t find us? Then it dawned on me.

“How about we rent our house out, and move to the property in upstate NY, to your uncle’s place, for the time being?” I suggested. “That way, you’ll be out of Cameron’s sight because he won’t be able to find you, and we could clean up the place, and get it ready for sale at the same time,” I pointed out.

Paul remained quiet. He’d looked excited at first and then had gotten a mulish look on his face the longer he stared at me. I could see the hamsters running on the wheel he had for a brain. He was probably trying to figure out a way to go without me. That wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t trust him at all.

“That is a good idea, Anna,” Dean said. “Cameron’s efforts to track Paul down would put him out in the open more, making him impatient, and reckless, which would lead to his arrest, while you are both safe and sound someplace else.”

“I agree,” Paul said, shocking me. “But I don’t think we should rent out our house.”

And there it was.

“I don’t like the idea of strangers living in it,” Paul continued.

“We can’t afford to have it empty, Paul,” I argued in return, hoping to put a stop to that line of reasoning, but wondering if he had more to add.

“True. You should stay in the city. I will go upstate on my own.”

It was clear he had some sort of plan that didn’t involve me playing out in his mind.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You think I should stay in the city, and alone, in this house, while this maniac is looking for you?” I challenged.

Dean looked like he might agree with me, which was surprising considering he was Paul’s friend.

“Exactly. He’s looking for me. You’ll be perfectly safe. Besides, you can’t run your bakery from upstate,” he said.

Damn, he wasn’t wrong about that. “That’s true, and training a replacement would be a hassle,” I agreed, feeling a little frustrated.

“That’s settled then. I’ll go and you’ll stay. Besides we don’t need the money a renter would bring in that badly.”

“Don’t worry, Anna, I’ll look after you,” Dean answered.

I rolled my eyes at that. Paul had no idea about our finances. The man would spend every penny we had if I didn’t keep a tight watch over our accounts.

Paul started laughing, and I knew no matter what he thought, I’d find a way to go up there.

A few minutes later, he and Dean left to go to Dean’s house, feeling that would be a safe place to go drink, and I called Thornton.

“Hey,” I said when he answered.

“Sweetness, everything okay?”

Just the sound of his voice calmed me. I wished we could be together again, but we’d decided to wait until the divorce went through before spending the night together again. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

I explained about the idea of going to the house upstate.

“I agree it would be good to get away from NYC for a while, let Cameron cool off. And you need to go with him, not that I want you with him,” he agreed.

I smiled. “I wouldn’t be with him. Not like that. The place is huge, I’d have my own room, trust me.”

“I do, sweetness. You sure we can’t see each other again?”

My smile widened. “Well, we can still see each other, we just can’t sleep together again. I know it shouldn’t really matter, considering we already have once, but… it just feels wrong while I’m still married.”

“I get it. And I get why you want to wait. It’s just hard. Every time I see you, I want to kiss you.”

My toes curled at his words. “I do too. And hopefully if I can find a way to get up to that house with Paul, I can get it ready to be sold faster. The faster it sells, the sooner I can file for divorce, and we can be together.”

“Then you’d better find a way to go up there.”

I took a deep breath and raised my chin ever so slightly before opening my mouth. “I’ve decided to come with you. I changed my mind,” I said to Paul while he was packing to leave for the estate.

As expected, his face completely betrayed his thoughts as he heard that. “Didn’t we agree you should stay home, while I go alone?”

As if you would ever go alone.

“What about your bakery?” he asked, although I knew he didn’t care about it one bit. It was merely an excuse.

I knew he would fight me on this. I was prepared for it. All the same, I wasn’t backing down this time around. It was imperative that I went upstate with him.

“As it turns out, Johanna, the new girl I hired, was a manager at her previous job, so she will step in, and I’ll return whenever I can,” I explained.

And that wasn’t a lie. It was pure luck; Johanna could fill my shoes while I was dealing with something else because the goal was to upgrade my business, not run it into the ground.

“Why hassle?” Paul argued in return. “I can manage without you.”

“Because this is not about you,” I snapped in return, not being able to stop myself. “I’m scared,” I added.

That was only partially true. I was very much motivated by fear; I didn’t want to be alone in the house when Cameron came looking for Paul. And I was sure that he would, no question about that.

All the same, that was only a small portion of the reason why I wanted to accompany Paul to the estate. I knew I was a bit petty, and thinking selfishly. I wanted to put a wrench into Paul’s plans because, after everything he put me through, he didn’t deserve a happily ever after without providing me with one first. It was as simple as that.

In other words, I’d overheard him speaking with his mistress about their future love nest. And I just couldn’t allow that fantasy to come to life, because then Paul would completely abandon the idea of selling the mansion. And while he enjoyed life to the fullest, I would be left all alone to struggle and look over my shoulder in fear, seeing Cameron everywhere.

I don’t think so. That was why it was imperative that I went with him, to make sure I would get what I deserved. To make sure he would actually sell the estate and not use it as a base for whoring around.

“Of Cameron?” he asked, as though needing to make sure.

“Yes, and I can’t stay here knowing he will come knocking on the door.”

“He won’t bother with you,” Paul said in such a dismissive tone I had to grit my teeth to prevent me from screaming at him.

He won’t bother with you; like I was that unimportant.

“Are you sure? Although he has a grudge against you, he had no problems lighting the car on fire with you and Dean inside,” I pointed out. “What do you think he would do to your wife, to get to you?” I challenged. And I knew I had him there because there was nothing that he could say to that without ending up looking like a selfish bastard.

Paul looked ready to explode. He wasn’t happy at all about this turn of events. Then again, I didn’t care about his happiness at the moment, only my own. I’d spent too much time taking care of him without getting anything in return, which was not technically true, I had debts and a lot of gray hair, so this was my opportunity to take care of me for once.

It was obvious Paul was trying to come up with a reason to leave me behind and ride alone into the sunset with his mistress, leaving all the mess he created behind for me to clean up, like always, but he couldn’t. There was nothing he could do to prevent me from coming with him. He couldn’t very well order me to stay in NYC, to get myself killed on his account. That was because he was still keeping up with the pretenses for some reason that he wanted to be with me. That he was trying.

What a joke.

At the same time, it was typical Paul; he wanted to have his cake and eat it too. That was his downfall and precisely why I knew I would be coming with him.

“You need to pack quickly then, I’m on a schedule,” he said eventually.

“I’m already packed,” I informed him.

He didn’t like that either.

The car ride to the new house was very tense, to say the least. Paul was practically emitting anger because the conversation he’d had with his mistress before our departure, where he informed her that he would be leaving her behind after all, wasn’t pleasant, not that I cared. I was pleased that I managed to ruin his plans with Marianne. It would be a good lesson for him, at any rate. That he couldn’t have everything in life. Especially considering he didn’t deserve it.

And his pretending to still want to be my husband played in my favor because I wasn’t ready to share my plans about the divorce either. As my lawyer suggested, I had to wait until the sale of the estate was finalized, and Paul received a bunch of money for it.

I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face once I handed him the divorce papers, because Paul believed those were just my empty threats, that I could never possibly divorce him.

I can and I will, in due time. I just have to be patient a little bit longer, and make sure the estate gets a buyer as soon as possible.

At the same time, I was aware I couldn’t play it as though all was well between us. Paul would know something was up if I started pretending that I was madly in love with him once again. He wasn’t stupid. Perhaps naive at times, whimsical, selfish, but not stupid.

So, there was a fine line I had to walk, and act as though I too was willing to fight for this marriage despite its many problems.

That was exhausting, to be honest. I had lived like that, actually fighting for something that wasn’t there for many years, and I was tired, so this, pretending I still shared the same mindset, felt even harder. Yet I didn’t have a choice. It had to be done.

Paul glanced at the phone, his frown deep, clearly unhappy Marianne hadn’t texted him back, although I noted he sent her a bunch of texts while we were having a rest and pumping gas. That gave me an idea. It was risky; however, it was my best course of action. It was time to be honest with Paul, to a degree.

“I’m sorry this ruins your original plans,” I broke the silence.

“What do you mean?”

“Going to the estate with that other woman,” I replied without breaking a sweat. “I just couldn’t stay home alone, with that man looking for you.”

The car swayed ever so slightly. It was obvious this was a conversation he did not expect to have. I really hoped I wasn’t making a mistake starting it now. The last thing I wanted was for him to wreck my car too.

Paul tried to convince me to allow him to get money from our joint account, and a large sum of that, so he could buy himself a new car. And he actually wanted to buy it, without taking a loan, which I categorically refused. He wasn’t happy about that and grumbled for days, but I couldn’t budge. I wasn’t about to allow him to spend even more of our money on himself when I planned on dumping his ass as soon as possible.

To make matters worse, only today did I learn that he actually planned on taking my car to go upstate without leaving me any means of transportation. His selfishness had no bounds.

“Anna, I have no idea what you’re talking about. As you can see, you’re here with me,” he denied once again.

“Please, Paul, stop playing dumb. We both know you planned on bringing Marianne to the estate instead of me.”

The car swayed again since I used her name. Paul was very careful never to mention her name. That didn’t mean I didn’t know it. And now he was aware of that as well.

“Don’t try denying it,” I continued, knowing he was prepared to do just that because that was what he did. He always played that song and dance routine until fully backed up into a corner. “I’ve known about her for quite some time, even before you came clean the other day.”

He stared right ahead, as though his life depended on him not blinking, not taking his eyes off the road.

“I waited for you to admit it, or end it, and it only took a near-death experience to make you be honest. And to be perfectly frank, I am thoroughly disgusted by you because of it.”

It took him a moment to process all that I said, and come up with an angle of his defense. Because I was aware that was coming. Paul was not about to admit his guilt in any way. He would merely state a bunch of excuses for why he acted the way he did.

Will he continue negating everything? Will he try to brush it all away, stating how that meant nothing? Or will he try to blame it all on me? I mused.

“You know, this really isn’t the proper place and time for this kind of conversation,” he said eventually. “Besides, someone tried to kill me. Can we leave all our problems in the past? Can you try to be nice to me?”

I was pretty shocked by what he said. I hadn’t seen that coming. Then again, I should have. This was Paul I was talking about. Of course, he would use Cameron’s assault on him as a get-out-of-jail-free card, for everything.

Because he already had. That was all he talked about ever since it happened.

He couldn’t open the door to a pizza guy bringing him dinner – yes, he’d ordered food only for himself because he was hungry – because he was too much in shock. He couldn’t take out the trash because he was still traumatized and didn’t feel comfortable being on the street, even though we were talking about a couple of feet in front of the house.

And now I couldn’t even speak about his ongoing affair because he had a near-death experience. He was unbelievable.

“I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill you,” I replied sarcastically, making a face.

Although I was troubled that he’d almost died, especially considering I had my role in that too – it was still infuriating he failed to see how all of it, mostly all of it, I corrected, was his damn fault.

“How do you know about Marianne? How did you find out about her? I wonder,” Paul said, clearly deciding to brush away my last remark.

I looked at him, incredulously. “I thought you didn’t want to have this conversation now,” I challenged.

Something must have been seriously wrong with him if he was volunteering to talk about it. Especially considering he couldn’t escape it; we were in a moving car with a long drive ahead of us. What other secrets does he have that he doesn’t want me to find out? I wondered.

“I’m just curious, that’s all,” he tried to say all casually.

Two can play that game.

“A woman knows when her partner starts to cheat on her,” I replied vaguely. I wasn’t dumb enough to tell him I hired a PI to follow him around. Then he would know what my plans were, and I was trying to avoid that, for now. The goal was to keep him in the dark until the sale of the estate.

“By the way, I’m no longer seeing her,” he informed.

I wondered when that was decided. When she told him to go to hell after standing her up today, after informing her she couldn’t go to the estate after all? “Really?”

“Of course not. I have no intention of dying for that mistake.”

Does she know she’s a mistake? was on the tip of my tongue. How easily he sways… I said nothing because his words meant absolutely nothing to me.

“I will be completely faithful to you from now on, I promise.”

His promises meant nothing to me as well because they were empty. Should I point out he should have been faithful to me all this time?

“You stuck by me when I needed someone the most, so I know my priorities now,” he continued, clearly uncertain by my silence.

Did he expect I would fall at his feet hearing that crap? Unfortunately, he probably did. And that was my fault. It went without saying I didn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth. All the same, I let him talk, express his gratitude, undying love to me, and all that crap. And I nodded, pretending his words made me thoughtful.

It would be better if he believed that he’d managed to fool me again.

My revenge will be all the sweeter.

FIFTEEN

PAUL

All my plans went to shit, and I hated that. I also didn’t like the fact that Anna knew about Marianne, and had kept quiet all this time instead of saying something.

It showed me a couple of things. First of all, it showed that I hadn’t been as discreet as I’d assumed I was. Also, she was more observant than I would prefer. And most importantly that she was a much better actress than I gave her credit for. I especially didn’t like that. I had tried to behave, to not cheat, to be a better husband to her, but she’d rebuffed me on numerous occasions. Every time I’d tried to do something spontaneous with her, she shut me down. Was it any wonder I’d allowed my eyes to wander? A man could only take so much.

Then again, her grumpiness now made perfect sense. She knew about my girlfriend and was angry about it. At the same time, she didn’t do anything to change that. Her attitude remained the same, which made no sense to me.

If I were in her place, if I’d learned my partner had been cheating on me, not that Anna ever would, I would take that as a personal offense and would do everything in my power to win them over.

Unfortunately, Anna didn’t think like that. She likes being unhappy, I realized. All the same, things were out in the open now, and there was nothing I could do about it. And I told her the truth, at least in part.

There was a chance that Marianne and I were over. She was very angry with me at the moment because I had to tell her she couldn’t come with me to my uncle’s estate because my wife was coming instead.

She called me all kinds of names, which was completely uncalled for. It wasn’t my fault Anna had changed her mind, found a friend to rent our place, and insisted on coming with me. Now Marianne refused to speak to me anymore.

Marianne refused to take my calls or reply to my texts, although I tried texting and calling many times, saying how sorry I was, and promising I would find a solution out of this mess. But she was too stubborn, too prideful to listen to me.

I could only assume her silence meant that she’d broken up with me. All the same, I was hopeful I would be able to patch things up once she cooled off. That was why it was better to give Marianne some time to calm down and think things through before trying to reach out to her again.

Perhaps she will call me once she realizes her mistake. What if she doesn’t call? What if this is it, the end? I thought.

Considering all the things that happened with her ex, and how she refused to commit to me, perhaps that was for the best, a blessing in disguise. Although I wanted to be with her still, like crazy, because the passion was there, I had to be pragmatic. This near-death experience really shook me to the core.

Perhaps this was a sign I had to change my ways and focus on my marriage from now on. Anna was my safe harbor after all. She was always there for me; she stayed no matter what.

It was true that she started acting out as of late, pestering me about everything, but now I knew why that was the case.

She didn’t care about little things; she didn’t care about my trip to Vegas and the money spent. She cared that I went there with someone else. And to be frank, I liked the fact she was jealous; that meant she still cared about me.

Then again why should I be the only one bending and changing, if she wasn’t prepared to do the same? Naturally, I was very much aware of why I kept making excuses to look outside my marriage. The simple truth was that I didn’t want to be with Anna anymore. Not at the estate, not back in New York City. She was cold and distant, and angry all the time. In other words, she was no fun, and I couldn’t stand it anymore.

And the only reason she was here was because I felt guilty. I couldn’t live with myself knowing Cameron might manage to hurt her because of me. Just because I didn’t love her anymore didn’t mean I wanted her hurt, or worse.

All the same, guilt wasn’t a strong enough reason to stay with someone. At some point I would have to say, enough is enough, and leave her. Because I deserved to be happy, and I couldn’t do that while being with her. Almost dying showed me I had no time for wasting, and every second spent with Anna was just that, a complete waste.

I did my best to be with her, I stayed for twelve years, but it was time to face the music. I’m done. And Mom will just have to accept that too, without saying anything, without looking at me all disappointed, I grumbled to myself.

“We’re here,” I informed, not sure why.

We both looked at the same navigation, so Anna was aware we reached our destination. Then again, it was good to break the silence, to stop thinking so damn much, and to be in the moment.

I was pretty excited to come here, to be honest. It had been years since I last came to visit my uncle, and that was before the major renovation he’d had, so I had no idea what to expect.

Once we passed through the massive gate, which was new to me, as I couldn’t recall there ever being a gate before, the lawyer gave me a special pass key to be able to activate it, we drove to the estate on a narrow road for a few more minutes. All around us were trees, and then, all of a sudden, we could see it. The house I’d once visited was now a mansion. It was surrounded by manicured lawns and perfectly landscaped bushes and flowers.

“Oh my God,” Anna exclaimed next to me, clearly impressed by the sheer size of it all.

This wouldn’t be a good B&B, I realized, it would be perfect for an exclusive hotel. I forgot how big the original house was, but it was even larger now. Uncle James had done a lot of remodeling a couple of years back and it looked as though he’d added a wing or two to the original house. And because of it, the place didn’t look rundown, not one bit. It looked pristine, marvelous, and breathtaking. Most of all it looked impressive. And this is all mine.

It was very beautiful, I noted, looking at it, as I stopped in front of the main entrance. On both sides of the door were three sets of columns, accompanied by semi-circled steps. I felt like I was in front of a palace, not someone’s home.

I liked that because now this was my palace. Until you sell it, came a thought that I banished immediately.

“The house looks well kept,” Anna noted, getting out of the car.

The house, I grumbled. This was no mere house. It would be as though describing the Taj Mahal as just a building.

“We’ll see what it looks like on the inside,” I warned. There was still a possibility that Uncle James ran out of money somewhere along the way, having too grandiose ideas, and had to cut corners somewhere. I certainly hoped I wouldn’t have to spend too much money on renovation. Preferably, I wouldn’t have to spend a dime because I didn’t want anything eating up my profit.

“True,” Anna agreed with me, which was a rarity.

I started looking about, and couldn’t see anyone, anywhere. I knew that all the help was let go, except for the gardener; nevertheless, I wasn’t looking for the house personnel.

“What are you looking for?” Anna asked, curious.

“I don’t see him anywhere,” I replied; then again, we were standing at the main entrance and the estate was huge, with several side buildings, a big swimming pool area, a tennis court, and a mini golf course. Apparently, Uncle James was mad about the game. I personally never saw the appeal.

“Who? Cameron?” Anna stretched, making a face.

She truly was that frightened. Then again, I couldn’t understand why. He tried to kill me, not her.

“No,” I replied with a shake of my head. “The squatter my mother spoke about.”

“He probably hid, hearing us approach,” she offered.

“Probably,” I grumbled the word in return. I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with that menace.

“Speaking of Noreen, your mom is here,” Anna pointed at her car.

It was funny how I didn’t see it, too blinded by the house, I supposed. “What is she still doing here,” I grumbled in return. It irked me she was here, that she could have potentially ruined my plans with Marianne, so I intended to find out why she stayed when I told her to go home. I hated when she did things like that and meddled in my life without informing me. I wasn’t a child; I didn’t need her help.

Besides, this wasn’t all about Marianne. This squatter could have been dangerous. He could have hurt her, and then I would have to take her to the hospital, take care of her.

As I fumed, my mother came out of the mansion, wearing the biggest smile on her face. “You’re finally here,” she said as a way of greeting.

Naturally, she came to give me a hug before doing the same with Anna.

“What are you doing here, Mom?” I asked, not being able to completely hide my irritation.

It was pure luck Anna changed her mind and came with me. If my mother saw another woman with me, then she would have raised hell, and I really didn’t need that in my life right now.

“Is that really how you greet your mother,” she chastised in return.

I kissed her on the cheek. “Well?” I said afterward. I was still looking for an answer.

Mom made an impatient wave with her hand. “I promised I would give the real estate agent a tour.”

I made a face hearing that. “I told you I will handle everything.”

I had to make sure I found someone who wouldn’t take too big of a commission. I knew those agents were no better than mobsters at times, so it was prudent to be careful when hiring someone.

“Yes, you really shouldn’t have troubled yourself,” Anna agreed. “We’ve got it handled.”

My mother waved in her dismissive manner once again. “It’s no trouble, it’s for my baby. Besides, a friend’s friend is simply doing me a favor.”

“So, what did he say?” I asked, eager to hear a rough number I could get for selling this house.

“Nothing, because he hasn’t shown up.”

That was disappointing.

“How about I give you the grand tour instead,” Mom offered. “A lot has changed since the last time you visited, I imagine,” she said to me.

I really hoped she meant it for the better. “I barely recognize the place,” I said honestly.

“A grand tour would be lovely, Noreen,” Anna said with a smile.

Mom beamed at that, grabbing us both by the arms. “Let’s go then.”

I wasn’t the kind of person who easily got swept off my feet by such material possessions; however, even I was taken aback by the sheer size of the hall, the mosaics on the floor, the grand staircase that led to two different sides, two wings of the house.

To say the mansion was beautiful would be an understatement. Uncle took care of every detail, everything was in its place, and everything belonged perfectly. That wasn’t to suggest everything was according to my taste, but I understood it, as a whole.

With that in mind, I noted how Uncle had some pretty weird taste as well, and it showed all around the house. I couldn’t see myself living here, ever. As Marianne would say, the vibe was off, not that I believed in such things.

Still, I certainly got a peculiar feeling, like I was out of place, like among all those perfect, beautiful, expensive things, I didn’t belong.

And then everything started to make sense once Mom started pointing at all the secret doors, hidden passages, and rooms that could be entered only by pulling a certain lever on the wall or finding a hidden button, underneath a desk.

It was all very strange to me, not to mention unnerving. Why would Uncle live in a place like this? Why would he want to have secret passageways? From my understanding he lived alone ever since his wife left him, so why bother?

Was he into some kind of a kink? I couldn’t ask that, not in front of my mother, which meant I would have to discover on my own. I wasn’t looking forward to that. All the same, I asked about the purpose of it all. And Mom explained to me.

The original house was built during the war, she forgot which one, and all those secret hallways were used to hide people or smuggle things, or whatever. Over time new sections were added to be able to house a larger family, as it grew. Once my uncle bought the place, he liked the idea of having a house of secrets so much that he added a few of his own.

I wondered what his former staff members thought about living in such a macabre house. Then again, it wasn’t like I could ask them now.

I got tired of walking after a while, and we had barely started exploring the second floor. I wondered how Anna was supposed to take care of a house this size, all on her own. It would take her days to clean dust from all the surfaces, let alone anything else.

She can do it room by room, I realized.

As we walked, Mom took pictures of everything, explaining it would be easier to sell it if everything was marked with a correct image attached to it.

I had to admit Uncle James had a pretty expensive taste. The place was full of antique furniture, art collectibles, paintings, sculptures, vases, and all other knickknacks someone like him would like to possess. And be prepared to pay a pretty penny for.

“You know, you should really speak with someone about setting up an estate sale. You can double the money if you sell the furniture and the artwork separately from the house,” my mother advised as though I wasn’t already aware of that.

“Mom, take it easy, I just got here,” I complained.

I was tired and I would like to rest for a bit, maybe drink some coffee before jumping into it all. To be honest, I felt a bit overwhelmed. I had honestly forgotten how big of an estate this was. And it was all mine now.

I needed a moment to catch my breath and get used to the fact. Not that Mom was allowing me such a thing. It was starting to get on my nerves, her constantly telling me what to do. I was a grown man. I knew what I was supposed to do even without her pulling at my sleeve, telling me what needed to be done.

Not to mention this was all happening a little bit too fast for me. She wasn’t even giving me a chance to enjoy in the moment and appreciate that all this was mine. It was all sell, sell, sell. I was all for that, but in due time.

“Mom, I’m tired from driving,” and sporting a massive hangover. “Can we discuss all the details later,” I complained.

“We’re almost done, dear.”

I groaned inwardly. After I’d almost died, the only way I could calm down was if I drank myself to sleep, and it really bothered me that my mom completely disregarded that. Not the drinking part, the almost dying part. Although, at the same time, I appreciated her enthusiasm, I knew she was doing what she thought was best for me.

“We can have a huge yard sale in the backyard or even a silent auction,” Anna cheerfully chatted with my mother.

They were both ignoring me, disregarding my feelings. More to the point, why was Anna so happy about it? This was my estate, not hers.

“It would definitely be prudent to sell all the antiques separately, because some of the items are pretty rare, and could start a bidding war,” she continued.

My mother nodded. “That’s why it would be wise to catalog everything and discover their true market value.”

Their conversation irked me to no end, as I tagged along behind them. I was especially irritated with my wife, who had started meddling in everything ever since arriving. Shouldn’t I have a say and not her?

What was her motivation? I had to wonder.

What if she tries to sell things out from under me? I wouldn’t put it past her. She clearly liked keeping secrets from me, remembering our conversation in the car. Also, she threatened to divorce me just a few weeks ago. She was constantly on my case, complaining about the things I’ve done, like going to Vegas and having a good time without her. So perhaps she thought this was her chance to get back at me by taking advantage of my inheritance. Maybe she thought she could recoup our savings by selling this stuff off.

Even though she didn’t have the right to a dime of it, I was sure she would try to take some, anyway, to put toward her bakery like she’d wanted to do with that money I spent in Vegas. That was what I would do if the tables were turned, anyway.

It surprised me that I didn’t even feel cross with her; that’s how little I trusted her these days. But I would have to keep a closer eye on her from now on.

This was my inheritance after all, and I had big plans for it.

SIXTEEN

PAUL

The next day I woke up in an unfamiliar, although very comfortable, bed. I took the biggest guest room in the mansion, which had a huge balcony right above the main entrance, only to find myself in a nightmare.

No, Cameron hadn’t found me, yet. It was a different kind of nightmare, my version of it, at least, a bureaucratic mess. Much to my chagrin, I found myself muddling through a long day of phone calls, paperwork, and bureaucracy. It was pure torture.

What I didn’t find was that damn hobo. I searched the grounds, armed with a rolling pin I found in the kitchen. I wished I had something more manly with me, something that could put a fright into the man, but couldn’t find anything like that. As it turned out, my efforts were completely futile. He was nowhere. By the way my mother described it to me, I had expected to find a whole house at the edge of the forest made out of plastic and cardboard boxes.

He must have moved on. Then again, there was another option. I wouldn’t put it past my mother to exaggerate a little simply to drag me to the estate faster. Anna and me, that was. Because she was still not done scheming about the two of us having children.

And speaking of my wife, she was of no help at all. She refused to cook for us. Mom did it better anyways, but Anna also refused to clean. She refused to do anything useful, to the point I started wondering why she wanted to come in the first place. To not die. I dismissed that thought. She was never in real danger, simply exaggerating like always. Only Anna could make someone else’s near-death experience about her.

At the same time, I should feel grateful she wasn’t constantly up my ass, nagging. Mom was very successful in distracting her from constantly picking on me by taking her to all kinds of shops, and the local artist colony.

I was very cross when I heard they were going without me. I wished I could go with them, maybe even take some photos to entice Marianne to join me; however, my mother insisted that I needed to stay at the mansion and finish all the work I was assigned as an owner of the estate.

I wished I didn’t have to do it all by myself. That I could hire someone to do it instead of me. Unfortunately, someone like that would cost too much money; money I didn’t have. At least not yet.

So far, coming to the estate was nothing I had hoped it would be. Relocating was supposed to be fun, and it was anything but. Nothing is ever fun while Anna is around, I grumbled. Working all day, and feeling really depressed and alone, made me think of Marianne.

I wished she would speak with me. I missed her like crazy. I should never have left her in the city. I should have fought Anna harder and forbade her from coming with me.

During my well-deserved break, I texted Marianne once again about how sorry I was for everything. I told her to come to the estate, as planned, despite the fact Anna was there too. I didn’t care. Everything was already out in the open. I wanted Marianne on the estate with me, and that was that.

Besides, I had a plan to get rid of both Anna and Mom by the time Marianne arrived. And then the two of us can enjoy ourselves as planned, hidden away in this paradise as long as we want to. I smiled to myself as I pictured it. Long days together strolling through the grounds, warm nights together underneath the luxurious sheets. Maybe I’d have her sit by my side as I painted the landscape, and she’d feed me chocolate-covered strawberries while we sipped champagne. My smile grew at the thought of her in something sexy.

What if I can’t get rid of Anna and Mom in time? I had a moment of doubt. What to do with Marianne, then? I would never hear the end of it if Mom ever met Marianne, so it was imperative to keep the two of them separated.

I wasn’t worried though. There were a lot of places on the estate, a lot of side buildings she could stay in, and hide without anyone, apart from me, being the wiser. I hadn’t checked out any of the buildings yet, the caretaker’s cottage was the furthest, but I was sure they were in top shape like the main house. Besides, I knew Marianne wasn’t picky. She just needed a place to be, to get away from NYC, and her lunatic of a husband.

I couldn’t wait to have her in my arms again. And it would be better once she came here because we wouldn’t have to sneak around. We wouldn’t have to cut our rendezvous short because of her work, or because I had to go home to my wife. It would be amazing.

I checked the phone, again. She still hadn’t texted me back. I frowned; that was rude. She’d had plenty of time to get over her anger. Besides, I was doing my best to prepare a safe haven for her, and she still ignored me, like some ungrateful brat, which I knew she wasn’t. Usually.

I called her. Perhaps I was overreacting. Perhaps she was busy at work and didn’t get a chance to check her phone. She didn’t answer me either.

“What the hell?” I grumbled.

Was she that angry with me, or had something else happened? That worried me. What if Cameron did something to her? Here I was, pissed off at her for not returning my calls when in truth, there was a chance that she couldn’t call me even if she wanted to.

I called Dean, to check up on him, make sure he was all right, and send him on a mission. I wanted him to check up on Marianne and make sure she was all right.

“I’m on it, bro, and if Cameron finds me there, I’ll make sure to wear my fireproof underwear,” he joked.

Dean seemed to be fully over what had happened. He was his cheerful self, and I was glad. I wished I could be more like him. To brush off everything as though it never happened. Unfortunately, I still had nightmares about that day, about what Cameron almost did to me, to us.

I had sick days and vacation days I was using, so I wouldn’t have to return to work for the time being. There was no way I could ever return to NYC while that maniac was on the loose. I wouldn’t return even if it got me fired.

I hoped, if I managed to sell the mansion quickly, I wouldn’t have to return to work at all. I hated that job all the same, so it wasn’t that big of a loss.

Seeing this collection of art reminded me that I still had work to do. I made an appointment to have the internet hooked up. Apparently, Uncle James didn’t care about joining the twenty-first century, but I did. Life would be easier if the house was connected.

Besides, I had no idea how long I would be staying here. And living without internet was not an option. Plus, I knew I could up the price of the estate if it had internet access. It was a win-win situation.

After I took care of that, I set up another appointment with someone from the local auction house about the estate sale.

Anna and my mother wanted to organize a yard sale as though this was some commoner’s house, but I had much grander plans. I wanted only the richest people to come and bid for my uncle’s things because that way the profit would be much greater.

And I was right in my assessment because when I mentioned what estate and all its collections would be on sale, the guy over the phone started to salivate. Apparently, my uncle’s reputation was legendary, and everyone wanted a chance to buy a portion of his vast collection.

That was very good news for me, although I hadn’t realized the scale of it all. All the same, I planned on cashing in on everything.

While I was lost in thoughts, thinking about a nice trip around the Caribbean I would take with Marianne, my phone started ringing. Naturally, my first thought was that she was finally returning my calls.

It was an unknown number, but I answered all the same.

“Hello?”

I heard a growl from the other side. “You’ve managed to escape me once; you won’t be so lucky next time.”

It was Cameron, and he had called to threaten me. He clearly wasn’t ready to let go of his grudge. Lucky me.

“How did you get this number?” I demanded.

Did Marianne give it to him? Where was she now? Where was Cameron? It was obvious the police hadn’t caught him yet. Does he know where I live? All those thoughts passed through my head in an instant.

“That’s not important. It’s what I’ll do to you when I find you that is.”

I gulped. “You’ll end up in prison way before that happens.”

He laughed, and the sound of it chilled me to the bones.

“Not even the police will be able to stop me from finding you,” he threatened. “First, I’ll deal with that bitch, and then I’m coming to end you.”

I hung up on him then, not being able to listen to the sound of his voice any longer. I couldn’t believe he had actually called me, to threaten me. He sounded like a grade-A psychopath, a Bond villain. Unfortunately, I was no James Bond. I had no idea how to deal with this.

I was shaking from head to toe. I couldn’t escape him no matter what. I drank a glass of whiskey and, seeing no other way, jumped into Anna’s car and drove myself to the local sheriff’s department.

Although I wasn’t necessarily fond of the guy, after our phone call, I realized the sheriff was the only one who could help me.

It wasn’t easy or comfortable sharing my story with the locals, especially since I could see they were all judging me. As though they never had girlfriends on the side, a hypocritical bunch. Nevertheless, I told them exactly what had happened to me back in New York City with Cameron chasing me around, trying to light me on fire, and now.

Sheriff Price looked skeptical. “And you think this man is coming here to, what, kill you?”

It was more than obvious this was above his pay grade. “Yes.” I was going to have to be insistent to get anything accomplished with this man. “I need you to do something.”

He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. I wondered if he had some sort of condition. Maybe that was why he was always in a bad mood and seemed to not like me. “I’ll contact NYPD and see what I can find out,” he bit out, his voice sounding harsh.

Was he finally getting angry on my behalf? It was about time someone was on my side. “Thank you.”

Sheriff Price picked up the phone and called while I sat there listening to him speak to the detective. He stuck to the facts and didn’t tell the detective how upset I was, but at least he was doing something. When he finished, he set the receiver in the cradle and looked at me. “Detective Penn is going to pay you a visit the first chance he gets,” he said, shaking his head slightly before giving me a hard look. “You need to remain cautious and call us if something else happens.”

I didn’t care for his tone, and I wasn’t comfortable with how laid-back and condescending he seemed regarding my situation. There was a maniac on the loose, searching for me, and they all acted as though that was a perfectly normal Wednesday.

Well, not for me.

Feeling like my chat with the sheriff wasn’t enough, I got in touch with my lawyer, my uncle’s lawyer, to ask if he could recommend someone who would deal with a protection order against Cameron.

He gave me the number of one of his associates, Peter Dresher, and I wasted no time contacting him. I was informed that getting it would take a couple of days. I wanted to go through it all the same. Although I had no idea how much good that would bring me considering a homicidal maniac was after me.

By the end of the day, I was completely wrung out, exhausted, and fairly scared. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me, and yet, despite fearing for my life, I realized I still had too much work to do around the estate to simply call it a day and retired to my room with a bottle of scotch, which irked me to no end.

It was frustrating. I had nobody who would help me; everything and everyone depended on me, and that wasn’t fair. Especially considering I wasn’t even paid to do all that work.

Life wasn’t fair at times.

Only then did I remember that I had completely forgotten to mention to Sheriff Price how Cameron threatened to hurt his wife first. I groaned, realizing I would have to speak with that man once again. Before that, I texted Marianne to be careful.

Life was definitely not fair, especially to me.

SEVENTEEN

PAUL

I felt very anxious, for obvious reasons, as we settled in for our second, uneasy night at the mansion.

Anna went to sleep first, muttering something about how she wasn’t feeling well, although I was sure that was just an excuse to get away from my mother, who was still trying to list all that had to be done before the sale, despite the late hours.

Mom went next, after fixing me a quick supper, making sure I ate, and I retired last not wanting her to see how I was sleeping in a different room than Anna. Come to think of it, I had no idea which room Anna had chosen for herself and didn’t care either, as long as it was far away from me, so I wouldn’t have to hear her nagging me, even in her sleep.

I remembered to turn my alarm on to wake me up in the morning before Mom arrived, so she wouldn’t ride me. Anna and I were, to all intents and purposes, separated. I realized I made a huge mistake making all those promises in the car, being carried away by the moment, and I hoped this would show Anna that I had changed my mind.

After finishing a few more tasks, I finally went to sleep, when my phone started ringing. I couldn’t help but freeze for a moment fearing it was Cameron again. It was true my phone rang all day like crazy, but something about the late night made me more paranoid.

And then I saw it was actually Marianne, finally, and an intense feeling of relief washed over me.

“Why haven’t you called me sooner,” I demanded from the get-go. “I was worried sick about you,” I chastised. And that was true.

I could barely focus on work all day thinking about her, worrying whether Cameron managed to get her. To make matters worse, Dean called me during the day to tell me how he couldn’t find Marianne since her shop was closed. I spent the whole day imagining the worst.

“I was busy. It has been hectic around here,” she defended.

I made a face. Was that supposed to be an apology? It definitely didn’t sound like one.

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” I grumbled in return, making a face although she couldn’t see me.

“Did you settle into the house? How is it?” she asked, clearly eager to change the subject.

Although I wasn’t done scolding her, since I almost died because of that crazy husband of hers, I allowed it, for the moment. “Yeah, we sort of did. It’s amazing, Marianne. I really wish you could see it, and experience it all with me,” I said honestly.

I was sure that my stay at the estate would be more pleasant if Marianne was by my side and not Anna. Not my mother. Although I loved my mother with all my heart, she tended to be too much for me at times. And I escaped to this place to move away from all the stresses, not be buried by a fresh set of them.

“I wish that too,” she replied with a sigh.

I took that as a sign she was sorry for yelling at me. That she regretted holding a grudge. Once she cooled off, she realized none of this was my mistake anyways, just like I knew she would. She knew that I had no power over Anna changing her mind last minute.

“I’m so really sorry all this happened to you. You should have told me what Cameron did.”

“I tried,” I pointed out.

“You were drunk then.”

That was true.

“That guy is a maniac.”

“I tried not to get you involved in my mess, in this madness with Cameron.”

Madness was the right word. The guy was extremely dangerous and insane. That was a powerful, destructive combination. And that terrified me to the core.

“You know, he called me yesterday, to threaten me,” I shared. “I can’t believe you are actually married to that man.”

The knowledge she married someone like that definitely made me question a few things about her. Was that what she was attracted to? Was she turned on by all the aggression?

“He wasn’t always like that,” she snapped in return, defending him. “The war changed him, a lot.”

Was she actually trying to make excuses for him? I couldn’t believe it. “Or it simply brought out the worst in him,” I pointed out in return.

“It’s hard for me to explain, and for you to understand; however, I knew him before he was drafted, before all that darkness entered him. That’s why it was so hard for me to let go, to abandon him, hoping the man I knew and loved was still in there, somewhere.”

I had experience with people changing. Anna changed as well. And it took me a long time to accept that.

“I hope you see now that he is long gone,” I replied firmly.

“Of course, I see that now. That’s why I was trying to be discreet with you, so he wouldn’t find out. I feared what he might do.”

“That plan turned to shit,” I grumbled.

“That’s because, as it turned out, he installed cameras in my shop and in the apartment upstairs,” she informed.

“He did what?” I exclaimed, outraged.

“I just recently found out.”

I shook my head. “You have to be kidding me. He watched us together?”

“Yes, that’s what set him off, he found out about you. That’s why he chased you around.”

“And tried to kill me,” I finished instead of her.

“Yes, I’m so sorry, Paul. But deep down I know he’s not a bad guy.”

“He spied on us, and he tried to kill me, still wants to kill me, and you continue to defend him, are you fucking kidding me?” I raised my voice ever so slightly.

She remained silent and I continued.

“He chased me around town as though I was some common criminal, rammed into me, causing an accident, and when that didn’t kill me how he wanted to, since I survived hitting that light pole, he set the freaking car on fire. Watching me, laughing, while Dean and I were trapped inside. That’s the man you’re defending,” I ranted.

“I know, Paul. And I’m deeply sorry. He tried to kill me too.”

She said that as though it was no big deal. If she was standing in front of me, I would definitely shake her to try and make her come to her senses.

“I can’t believe you’re telling me that so calmly. What happened? Are you all right?” I demanded.

“Yes, I am. That is actually the reason I couldn’t get in touch with you sooner, I had to hide for a bit.”

“Dean said your shop has been closed.”

“Yeah, it’s not safe anymore. Cameron came to the tattoo parlor, holding a gun on me, but I managed to escape, just barely.”

Oh my God. “Did you report him to the police?” I asked, knowing if she said no, I would blow a gasket.

“Yes, of course I have.”

“Good.”

“I feel like this will all end with Cameron dying at the hands of the police,” she confessed.

As far as I was concerned, that was the preferable outcome, and before he managed to hurt anyone else. And I couldn’t believe how sorry she sounded, how concerned she was as she said that. The guy tried to kill her, tried to kill me too, and yet she still held on to the man who didn’t exist anymore. Unbelievable.

All the same, I decided not to hold that against her. Some women were prone to that shit, after all. That was why so many serial killers had wives and received love letters in prison from women around the world. They always clung to the belief they were the forces who could change the beasts back into men if only they loved them enough.

“Are you safe?” I asked, brushing over her previous words.

“I think so, but I’m scared he might find me.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, rubbing my brow. What a fucking mess.

“I’m sorry for being a dick just now when you called,” I said opening my eyes again. “You’ve been through a lot.” And she didn’t need me being a jackass to her on top of that as well. “All this Cameron business has really taken me by surprise.”

“I tried warning you about Cameron, but you have the memory of a goldfish,” she pointed out in return. Although her tone was teasing, I could sense there was true frustration behind her words. I couldn’t decide how I felt about it.

“Guilty as charged,” I said, trying to brush it off.

“I miss you,” she said with a sigh.

“I miss you too.”

“I wish you were here with me now. Everything would be much easier that way.”

Yeah, Cameron could kill us both in one go. Naturally, that wasn’t what I said out loud because something else occurred to me. She never responded to any of my texts.

“So, what do you think about my message?”

“The one about Cameron being after me? I already kind of knew that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Not that. About you coming to the estate?”

“Oh. I don’t know, Paul.”

“Why not?” I challenged.

“I can’t come while your wife is there with you. It wouldn’t feel right.”

It was strange to me she chose that moment to develop a moral compass. Or was that merely an excuse, because once again she didn’t like the idea of being with me as an official couple?

Not even a near-death experience could make Marianne commit to me. That was downright infuriating. All the same, I wasn’t giving up. I wanted her, I needed her in my life.

“She won’t be a problem. You’ll have one of the side buildings all to yourself,” I tried to reassure.

“Yeah, so I would have to hide there, all day and night, fearing someone might see me. I would go mad living like that.”

She had a point there. I wouldn’t like being trapped like that either. Then again it wouldn’t be like she would be in a shantytown, in some crude dwelling. A gilded cage is still a cage, part of me pointed out.

“Don’t worry about it. It would be only temporary. I have a plan,” I said, quick on my feet. I would just have to find a way to get rid of Anna and Mom, and that was that.

“What do you mean?” Marianne wanted to know.

“By next weekend I will have my meeting with Audrina, which means I can easily get rid of Anna afterward,” I explained.

Anna had promised she’d arrange a meeting with Audrina, to look at my paintings again. And that meant that afterward, she couldn’t hold anything over me anymore, no matter how that meeting went. She’ll have no more power and I will be able to make her go back to the city.

That would definitely put her back in her place.

Of course, returning to the city had its disadvantages. That was where Cameron was. Hopefully, I wouldn’t be staying that long for him to be able to catch up with me.

And I wasn’t worried about Anna. Cameron didn’t have need of her. Her worry was completely unreasonable, since Cameron wanted me, and Marianne.

And we will be safe at the estate.

“So, what do you say?” I prompted since she remained silent, clearly thinking things over. I was impatient, though. I need her to say yes.

That was the last piece of the puzzle that I was missing to make everything perfect for me, to be able to fully enjoy my uncle’s inheritance.

“All right. I’ll come.”

Those were the words I had been waiting for. Hearing her say that cheered me up to no end.

Finally, some good news.

“Excellent. Let’s discuss the details tomorrow. I’m beat tonight.”

“All right, talk to you tomorrow.”

I wanted to say something else, but she hung up on me. Never mind, I would be able to tell her everything once she was by my side.

EIGHTEEN

ANNA

“For the last time, Paul, no,” I snapped at him.

We had been bickering, arguing, and snapping at one another since morning.

And why? Because Paul got up with the notion that I should return to New York City. And no matter how many times I refused, he simply wouldn’t let go. And I was no idiot. I knew exactly why he was so relentless. It was obvious he’d managed to patch things up with his mistress and wanted her here instead of me.

Well, tough break, because I wasn’t going anywhere. And I had half a mind to tattle on him to Noreen. Not to mention canceling his meeting with Audrina.

Naturally, I did none of those things. It was crucial not to play my hand too soon. All the same, I wasn’t budging. I wasn’t going to leave until I was sure the mansion was as good as sold.

“Why are you so stubborn? I have everything in control. Besides, Mom is here, so I don’t need you,” Paul replied angrily.

I was very much aware he didn’t need me anymore. And that was because he had someone else to fuck, cling to, and take advantage of. Paul was a user, and his every word betrayed that. He only thought of himself.

Luckily, I had started thinking only about myself too.

“I have no place to return to,” I stressed the words. “Have you already forgotten that we rented out our house in the city to come here?”

It was obvious by his expression that he had, in fact, forgotten all about that. When things didn’t interest him, he had the mind of a gnat.

“Kick them out,” he recovered quickly. “I don’t care.”

I gritted my teeth. I really wondered why there was a sudden urgency for my departure.

“They have a signed contract. I can’t,” I pointed out, trying to rein in my temper.

“There has to be a way, ask an attorney,” he insisted.

“No, I won’t,” I replied calmly.

“Why not?”

“Because I won’t return to the city even if the house is empty.”

He just looked at me for a few heartbeats. It was obvious he was ready to explode because I was clearly messing up his plans; however, that wasn’t my problem. My days of listening to him and accommodating his needs were over. I was staying because I was defending my interests, nothing more or less.

“Anna, what is the matter with you? Why are you doing this? You need to return home.”

“I need to return home?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s pointless for both of us to remain here when everything is taken care of.”

In other words, nothing was taken care of. And it would stay like that if I returned to New York.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He practically growled at that. “Why not?” he asked in desperation.

I was sure he actually felt that. He was desperate to get rid of me. Because I was the only thing standing between him and his mistress.

Does Noreen know she is coming? I wondered. If Paul continued to pester me, I would absolutely let her know. She was my ultimate weapon.

“You know why. Or are you really that dumb?”

He clearly didn’t like me saying that, although I had no idea why. It was the truth. I continued all the same. “The husband of a woman you have been fucking,” want to fuck again, “will likely show up at the house the instant I return. And he will do everything in his power to learn your whereabouts by any means necessary. And I would give him the address before he managed to endanger me,” I said to him, honestly.

There was no way I would play dumb if Cameron came looking for Paul. And Paul should be aware of that, that I would rat him out in a heartbeat. Because I knew he would definitely do the same if the tables were turned.

“Endanger you?” He scowled at that.

His complete disregard for my safety was astonishing. It was unquestionably equal to his selfishness. He didn’t care about anything else, as long as he was all right and happy.

Once upon a time, I would have wept at that knowledge, because I had chosen the wrong man to spend my life with. Repeating all my mom’s mistakes. Nowadays, it only made my resolve stronger to get everything that I want, before dumping his ass for good.

“You’re exaggerating, like you always do.”

I looked at him incredulously. “The guy tried to set you on fire, then called you to threaten you that he was coming for you no matter what.”

Paul jerked at that because he had tried to keep that tidbit only to himself, but thanks to Thornton, I knew about that too.

“So what do you think he would do to me if he got the chance?” I challenged.

“Nothing.” He stressed the word. “He wants me, not you.”

“Paul, you can’t possibly be so stupid that you think he wouldn’t hurt me to find out where you are, or to get back at you.”

“If he wanted to hurt me then he has plenty of other targets.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, if he’s followed me at all, he knows you and I couldn’t give less of a shit about each other.”

I was stunned into silence. I couldn’t believe he could admit something so vile out loud.

“You know what, Paul, I don’t care what you think. I’m staying.”

“You can’t.”

“Yes, I can.”

“I don’t want you here, Anna.”

Finally, some honesty. “I know. And I don’t care. I’m staying.”

He just looked at me, stunned. Yeah, he wasn’t used to me being like this. He wasn’t used to not having things his way. In any other circumstances, I would have started laughing.

“Are you honestly going to allow your business to suffer so you can prove some imaginary point to me?” he said, recovering.

I rolled my eyes at that. “You have to do better than that, Paul, because I’m no idiot. I know you couldn’t care less about my business, just like you don’t care about me.”

“The only reason I didn’t get engaged in your business is because you made it clear from the start you didn’t want me there,” he countered.

I knew it would come to this, him blaming me. He couldn’t help himself.

“Paul, please stop. This is getting us nowhere. Just be honest for once.”

“I am being honest, it’s just that you’re not listening to me.”

“If you’re not going to say the truth then I will.”

“What truth, Anna?” he said as though in exasperation.

“The only reason you want me gone is because you want your mistress to come here instead. Have you no shame? Your mother is here too, or do you plan to kick her out as well, so you and that woman can have the whole place all to yourself.”

I definitely hit the mark, I noted. It was obvious by how angry he instantly got that I was right on point. He wasn’t angry because I was falsely accusing him. He was angry because I was right. He didn’t like when I called him on his bullshit.

“Admit it,” I pressed.

He folded his arms over his chest. “You need to admit you only wish to stay to inconvenience me and nitpick at me for the things I have done in the past,” he countered.

I was very much aware of how he failed to admit he wanted me gone so he could have Marianne over.

“You are such a selfish bastard. I cannot believe you have the audacity to stand in front of me, look me in the eyes, and lie like this.”

“What lie, Anna? I’m sick and tired of you constantly accusing me of lying.”

“So how about you start telling me the truth,” I countered.

“You want the truth?”

“Yes, that would be a nice change of pace,” I mocked.

“If I had a better wife by my side then I wouldn’t have to go around and search in other women for what I’m missing at home,” he snapped, taking this conversation in a whole different direction.

What a bastard. He actually had the audacity to blame me for his whoring around. Unbelievable.

I smiled humorlessly. “So, now it’s my fault you like to sleep around?” I challenged.

“You think it’s easy living with you? You never listen to me. You don’t care about my feelings at all. You are always in a bad mood, not to mention frigid as hell. Of course, you are to blame.”

I knew he was trying to hurt me, but I would be lying if I said his words didn’t have an effect on me. Although this was nothing I hadn’t heard before, it still hurt.

Before I had a chance to say anything in return, someone beat me to the punch.

“Paul!” his mother yelled angrily, storming into the room.

The fear in his eyes as he tried to figure out how much she heard would be comical if I wasn’t so thoroughly rattled by Paul’s words myself.

As it turned out, Noreen had overhead a substantial part of our fight, since it wasn’t like we were particularly discreet about it, yelling our asses off, and had decided to intervene after that last remark.

“How can you say something like that to your wife?” she chastised.

“Mom—”

“You should be ashamed,” she continued in the same manner. “Besides, when a man calls his wife frigid, it usually means he’s compensating for something.”

I barely stopped myself in time to not start grinning. She got him good. I could not believe she was actually defending me. Neither could Paul, apparently.

He was stunned into silence. He definitely wasn’t used to his mother speaking to him in such a manner, especially not on my behalf. Which could only mean she was thoroughly fed up with him, and his behavior. Paul had definitely crossed the line, one that even his mother couldn’t tolerate any longer. I cheered inwardly.

By his expression, it was obvious he didn’t know what to say in return. He was caught red-handed, and he couldn’t gaslight her as he was trying to do to me and tell her she heard it wrong.

More to the point, Paul would never have said something like that to me in the first place knowing his mother might be listening. Paul had one face, an angelic one, when his mother was around, and his true one to the rest of us.

“I’m really sorry you had to hear our fight,” I told Noreen. It was a small lie, yet a necessary one. I had a role to play after all. Delivering that to her, I looked at Paul next. “And you disgust me. I hope you and Marianne will be very happy together, you definitely deserve one another.” And with that, I left the house to get some fresh air and away from him.

I couldn’t look at him or listen to him anymore. The things coming out of his mouth, so he wouldn’t have to accept the blame, admit he was doing something wrong, something hurtful to me, was appalling.

I started walking aimlessly around the estate, in hopes of calming down. I had to figure out a way to stay, no matter what. I wasn’t about to hand that man a happily ever after with his mistress. I deserved one too.

I took my phone out and dialed Thornton without even thinking.

“Is everything all right?” Thornton asked after we greeted one another.

No, I wished to say. I really needed him by my side at the moment. “I wanted to check in, and see if there is any news about Cameron?” I asked instead of ranting about Paul and the stupid fight we had.

“Not yet.”

“Oh,” I replied, not sure what else to say. I was stalling. I didn’t want to end the conversation yet.

“Is something wrong, Anna?”

“Usual Paul stuff,” I tried to brush it off.

“What stuff?”

“We had a fight, and he said some pretty nasty things to me.”

I knew that after all this time something like that shouldn’t bother me, yet here I was, bothered.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Thornton offered.

“Yes.”

So, we did. And I had to say that talking with Thornton, having someone who actually understood me, and cared about me, put me in a better mood. Especially since we made arrangements to meet soon.

Although we both agreed our relationship couldn’t really move forward while I was married, I still missed him. And it was obvious he missed me too.

It was nice having someone who appreciated me and wanted to be with me, without accusing me of being frigid. It wasn’t that I was frigid, it was simply that Paul was a bad and selfish lover.

Once I finished my conversation with Thornton, I decided to walk some more before heading back to the house. I was at the back of the property, heading toward the groundskeeper’s cottage. I knew it was empty now, considering the groundskeeper, like all the rest, was let go after James’s death, but I was curious to see how it looked on the inside.

Perhaps I can move there, so I won’t have to look at Paul’s lying face anymore.

All of a sudden, I heard a sound, as though someone was running, which startled me.

“Who’s there?” I demanded, looking toward the place I believed the sound originated.

A man, all shabby looking and deranged, came running toward me from the cottage, shouting like a madman, and holding a sickle in his hand.

Oh God, I am going to die.

NINETEEN

PAUL

Son of a bitch.

It was just my luck that Mom had to hear my fight with Anna. And naturally, now she was assuming I was the bad guy. Completely unfairly, considering she didn’t know the whole story.

Anna provoked me to say all those things. Not that they were untrue, but I shouldn’t have said them in the heat of the moment.

“Honestly, Paul, I’m very disappointed in you. I thought I raised you better,” she chastised.

“Mom,” I tried to defend, but she raised her hand preventing me from saying anything else. Apparently, there was more she wanted to say.

“All this time you were blaming Anna for everything when you are a bad husband,” she accused.

I resented that because it wasn’t true.

“Mom, please, don’t say that. You don’t know the whole story.”

“You just enlightened me. Bear in mind that blaming your wife for an affair you had is unmanly; it’s unbecoming.”

I gritted my teeth. It was Anna’s fault. Not mine. Of course, I had to look for another woman because of Anna’s bad behavior toward me. She was constantly blaming me for everything, she refused to be a loving, caring, passionate wife. What sane man would put up with that indefinitely?

“So, what do you have to say for yourself?” my mother prompted impatiently.

“I’m not going to defend my actions to you. This is between me and my wife,” I countered, defiantly. I wasn’t some boy to allow her to scold me for bad behavior.

“Do not dare use that tone of voice on me, Paul Christopher Wilson. I gave birth to you, and you will respect me. And I will teach you to respect your wife even⁠—”

Her words were interrupted by a loud scream.

It was coming from someplace outside. There was a chance we wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for the fact all windows were wide open. Mom had insisted we air the mansion out thoroughly.

“Please, help!” a woman wailed.

“Anna,” Mom and I said at the same time.

“Stay here,” I warned Mom as I rushed toward the front door to investigate.

Unfortunately, the stubborn woman came right after me. Women in my life simply refuse to listen to me, I thought in exasperation.

I circled to the back of the property in a rush, searching for signs of my wife.

“Anna, where are you?” I called out for her.

There was no reply from her; however, I could definitely hear some kind of a commotion by the groundskeeper’s cottage.

Mom heard it too, pointing.

I nodded, running toward it. I stopped in my tracks, preventing Mom from going any further as well, as I finally spotted Anna. She wasn’t alone.

Mom hadn’t lied after all, fleetingly passed through my head.

A man, who looked completely raggedy and dirty was standing a few steps away from her, threatening her with a sharp-looking grass hook, while muttering to himself.

Anna looked scared, unable to move a muscle, transfixed by the weapon in the homeless man’s hand.

“Please help me,” Anna pleaded hysterically, frozen in place.

The homeless man became even more bewildered when he realized Mom and I were there as well. I grew terrified he’d turn his weapon on us too.

“Get away, get away!” he yelled at us, swinging with his weapon, slashing the empty space between us.

To my utmost horror, Mom passed in front of me, placing herself between Anna and the homeless man. He looked frightened.

“Mom, what are you doing?” I shouted, in exasperation, and fear.

The man was clearly deranged and had a weapon. This was no time for playing hero. This was time to get away, lock ourselves in the mansion, and call for help. How could I convey that to my infuriating mother?

“Young man, you need to drop that thing right now,” my mother said sternly.

I knew that tone of voice very well. She used it when she was displeased with me, when I got a bad grade in school or forgot to clean my room. As a child, I really feared that tone of voice. Although to be fair, I still wasn’t fond of it, even as a grown man.

“You need to get away from my property,” the homeless man yelled in return.

His property? In what universe? Even though I didn’t need another reason to believe he was insane, I got one all the same. If he believed this was his property and we were trespassing, then it was clear as day he lacked few screws in his head.

“Do not make me repeat myself,” my mother snapped in return. “I said to drop the sickle.”

To my utmost shock, he did drop it, and so fast one could assume it was on fire.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said apologetically. “But you need to leave. I don’t want visitors. I want to be left alone,” he murmured.

And the sheriff said he was completely harmless, I scoffed. I couldn’t wait to give that man an earful, harmless my ass.

As the homeless man partially turned away from us, still saying nonsense to himself, I realized he looked kind of familiar to me. Although I couldn’t remember why. Brushing it off, I took a step forward to stand beside my mother.

“It’s time for you to leave,” I said sternly.

That made him turn around, and look at me. His eyes, his gaze on me, felt unnerving, but I stood my ground.

“No, I won’t leave. This is home.”

“This is my house, not yours,” I yelled at him, trying to intimidate him, so he would run away and never return.

It could backfire. He could grab the weapon again and come at me. I shook my head. This was no time for negativity.

“No, no, no,” he replied, shaking his head vigorously. “This is my house. I live here.”

“Just because you decided to squat here doesn’t mean it’s your house,” I countered, but I quickly realized my efforts were futile. As Mom said, all reason and rational thought had clearly left the building a long time ago. There was no point arguing with this madman.

But what to do then? Sheriff Price didn’t want to be bothered with him. He called him non-threatening and wouldn’t want to help anyway. Well, he is going to have to be bothered, especially when I show him how his completely harmless squatter attacked us with a sickle.

Then again, perhaps not even that would be too big of a deal for Sheriff Price. Does he have to shoot at me with a gun for him to call him dangerous? I thought, getting all riled up.

“This is mine. I live here. Go away,” the madman rebelled. He had some pretty disturbing ticks as he spoke.

I was definitely losing my patience with him. “I am the sole beneficiary of my uncle’s will. I have the deed and everything, which means you’re trespassing. You’re the one who needs to leave,” I stated, feeling only slightly ridiculous that I was still arguing with this clearly insane homeless person. Then again, what other choice did I have? I didn’t want this to escalate to violence.

“What?” he snapped at me bemused. “Uncle? No, no,” he accompanied that sentence by hitting himself in the head. “He forgot about me,” he started to wail.

Both Anna and Mom looked at me, as though I was supposed to know what to do in this situation. As though I had dealt with homeless men having mental breakdowns all the time. It was just my luck to have a certifiable crazy person live illegally on my property.

What was I supposed to do now? It was obvious he wouldn’t simply leave by asking him nicely.

“No! He forgot about me, he forgot,” he continued to cry.

We have to call the sheriff, I realized, that was the only way. Let him deal with this craziness.

“Anna, call the police,” I told her, seeing the phone in her hand. Mine was still inside the mansion.

Anna didn’t respond to that. She was still shaking from head to toe, clearly in shock. I groaned in exasperation. Did I really have to do everything around here?

“Anna, give me your phone,” I ordered, trying not to raise my voice too much, not to startle the crying madman in front of us. Luckily, that snapped her from her state, and she gave me her phone. I wasted no time calling 911.

In a very short manner, I explained to Sheriff Price what was going on, making sure to mention that the homeless, peaceful squatter had a weapon. Sheriff Price reluctantly promised he was on his way. I barely stopped myself from saying something snide in return.

The man didn’t try anything, simply stood in place, muttering to himself, hitting himself, clearly lost in his world as we waited for the police to arrive.

Although he was clearly out of it, muttering nonsense to himself, none of us moved. Honestly, I was afraid something like that might trigger him, and then we would be right where we started, with him, swinging with that sickle, trying to hurt us. I wished there was a way to remove that thing from the equation. I didn’t dare approach him to get it. It was better to wait for the police. In silence.

We didn’t have to wait that long for the sheriff to arrive with a couple of his deputies. I explained to him where we were, so he found us without any problems.

“Finally,” I snapped as he approached. “Take this lunatic away from my property,” I ordered.

The new arrivals and my voice clearly snapped the homeless man from his state, and he looked at the police officers as a deer might look at hunters. Even his crazy self knows he’s in trouble. I was pleased.

“There is no need to cause a scene,” Sheriff Price said to that man in a calm manner. But then I realized he was actually speaking to me.

I frowned. No cause for a scene? I was having none of it.

“He threatened my wife, all of us, with that.” I pointed at the sickle that was lying on the ground next to his feet.

Sheriff Price completely ignored me as he approached the homeless man very slowly. The other man looked uncertain by that action, ready to escape at any second. I really didn’t want it to come to that. I wanted him arrested now.

“Hello, Carlos,” the sheriff greeted. He knew his name. I was in shock.

“Hello, Sheriff,” the madman greeted in return. “I didn’t mean to do anything. I just wanted to be left alone,” he pleaded.

“I know,” the sheriff reassured him calmly. “It was all just a misunderstanding. You didn’t know the owners were coming.” Why was he so kind to him? He tried to hurt us.

I scoffed. Before I got a chance to say anything, the homeless man, Carlos, started sobbing, running into the sheriff’s arms as though he was a little kid searching for comfort.

Sheriff Price patted him on the back.

“He forgot about me,” Carlos said through sobs. He looked hideous, all dirty and in rags as snot and tears were running down his face. I felt sick to my stomach.

“What do you think about coming with me for a bit?” Sheriff Price offered.

“Okay,” Carlos replied. He started walking without fuss, completely ignoring us, and got into the police car.

I glared at the sheriff. I felt like I deserved an explanation for what happened.

“I’m sorry if he frightened you,” he told Anna, looking at her respectfully. “I assure you; he is harmless. He got scared,” he explained.

“I disagree, Sheriff. Swinging a weapon is the opposite of harmless,” I countered.

The sheriff glared at me, his eyes narrowed and full of hate. “He doesn’t understand what’s going on.”

That wasn’t my problem, and I wasn’t sure what this sheriff’s issue with me was. “I want him charged,” I insisted.

The sheriff’s jaw twitched, and it took him a moment to speak. “He clearly had an episode, so I will take him to a hospital where he will be detained for seventy-two hours for observation,” he explained, biting his words out.

“Who is he anyway?” I demanded.

The man stared at me for a moment before saying, “His name is Carlos Delgado.”

The name didn’t ring a bell. I said as much. My mom said the same.

“Of course, you don’t recognize the name. Why would you.” He snorted. “I think we’re done here,” Sheriff Price said without offering anything else.

I could only stare after him. What the actual fuck?

“Let’s go and drink some tea,” Mom said, taking Anna back inside the mansion.

I walked after them, but my mind was reeling. I didn’t understand anything about what happened. Who the hell was Carlos Delgado? Why was Sheriff Price so nice to him, and so hateful toward me, and more importantly, why did that man claim this was his home?

Then again, perhaps I was trying to find meaning where there was none. It was clearly crazy talk. He was gone now, and I was more than ready to put all this madness behind me and focus on the future.

Although I had managed to get rid of one squatter, I still had a few unwanted guests I had to get rid of before Marianne arrived.

TWENTY

ANNA

It took me a while and two cups of Noreen’s tea to finally be able to calm down enough and process what happened.

I was sure I was about to die when that man, Carlos, charged at me. And then my scream stopped him in his tracks. Then Paul and Noreen came to my rescue, and the police took him away, so the story had a happy ending. Or so I thought.

After seventy-two hours, Carlos, who almost killed me with a freaking reaping hook, was released from custody.

And it wasn’t Sheriff Price who called me, as a courtesy, to let me know that lunatic was back on the streets as though nothing had happened. Apparently, the sheriff’s department had zero decency for things like that. It was Thornton who let me know because he was the only one who actually cared about me.

He was very upset when he learned what happened to me, and that he wasn’t here to protect me, promising he would do everything in his power to locate Carlos and stop him before he could hurt me again. It felt good to have someone to watch my back.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only bad news he’d shared with me, though. After Carlos was released from the hospital, he had disappeared. I wasn’t that surprised, to be honest. People who lived on the fringes of society tended to easily disappear if they wanted to.

“I’m sorry for alarming you, I thought it would be best if you knew,” Thornton said over the phone, sounding apologetic.

And he was right. It was better for me to know that Carlos was roaming out and about, so I could stay on guard. It wasn’t that I feared he would return to harm me specifically; however, I had a feeling he would return to the estate all the same.

He perceived this place as his home for some unknown reason, and that troubled me, because what sane person would buy such an expensive estate with the knowledge a dangerous homeless man could attack him every time he left the house?

This Carlos guy presented himself as a huge problem for me, and I had to find a solution.

“Thank you for letting me know. I appreciate it,” I replied.

After my conversation with Thornton, I decided to share my news with Paul, figuring we were in this together. Of course, I omitted how I came by that information in the first place. I wasn’t prepared to announce to Paul and Noreen that I had a PI at my disposal, not yet.

“I’m worried he’ll return to the mansion,” I said honestly.

“After all, he lives here, according to him,” Paul added, grumbling.

Even he was aware of the gravity of the situation. And I was relieved. For once, we were on the same page. This was a problem that couldn’t be taken lightly.

Once the police took Carlos away and I managed to calm down enough, Noreen and I had gone to that cottage to get rid of all his stuff. Luckily, there wasn’t much to throw out. The most disturbing thing to me was that even though he had a luxury bed at his disposal, and a fully functioning kitchen as well, he slept on the floor and ate like an animal.

That was a true testament to his mental state. And it was infuriating to me that a man who clearly needed help was so easily discharged from the hospital, on the grounds he was not a threat to society.

Well, I disagreed with that vigorously.

Noreen simply smiled at our exchange, which I found odd. I found nothing funny about this situation. And that wasn’t even the biggest problem, Carlos returning to the estate. The biggest issue was the fact we were all alone in this.

Sheriff Price proved to be of no help at all. He was clearly soft for the man. Although I was in shock, I noted how Sheriff Price treated Carlos, and there was definitely a story there, a story we weren’t privy to. All the same, I was confident Thornton would get to the bottom of things.

Luckily, on Thursday, Paul and I left the mansion and returned to New York City for a few hours to see Audrina.

I decided to keep my end of the bargain although Paul was doing everything in his power to remove me from the equation. I wanted my conscience to be clear when I took half of everything he owned, including his uncle’s house.

Before meeting Audrina, we dropped by the house. The new tenants were taking care of our home quite nicely, but Paul needed to pick up his paintings from the garage, so we decided to check on things there as well, while we were in town.

I suddenly realized that it had been quite a while since I’d actually seen Paul paint anything, years even. All his talk about wanting to be a great painter was just that at the end, talk. As always, Paul had problems committing to anything.

All the same, a deal was a deal, and with some coaxing and begging on my part, I managed to convince Audrina to give Paul’s paintings another chance. She had viewed them many years ago and hadn’t liked them. I was sure nothing had changed, but this was what Paul wanted. And I wanted the mansion sold, so here we were.

I’d met Audrina in college. We were actually roommates, along with a couple of other girls, renting a small New York apartment none of us could afford on our own. Even though we were completely different, we all became friends, but only Audrina and I had lasted beyond college. I now wondered what she thought of me, married to a useless lump of a husband like Paul when I used to be so independent and full of passion for baking back then. Did she think I was a sad imitation of what I used to be? Though I still had the passion for baking, thankfully, and soon I’d be rid of Paul, so maybe she’d see me back to my old self soon. The thought made me smile.

Audrina had always known that art was her passion. At the same time, she hadn’t liked the idea of ruining her perfectly manicured hands with paint or clay, so she’d majored in art history, and with the help of her family, she opened a gallery. Considering how successful it became, it was more than apparent she had a great eye for spotting talent.

“Thank you for doing this,” I said to her, again.

“Don’t mention it. Just make sure to name your firstborn after me,” she joked.

“Consider it done,” I countered instantly.

Audrina and I chatted for a bit as Paul gathered all his paintings to put them on display for Audrina’s inspection. I was slightly embarrassed to note that he had only one new painting since the last time she’d seen them.

Audrina asked about our stay at the estate, and I told her the highlights, omitting the parts about Carlos. Once again, I found myself wondering if Audrina knew about Paul’s affair with Marianne. Was that the reason she didn’t like him?

“I’m ready,” Paul announced proudly.

Audrina nodded. “Time to get to work then,” she said, winking.

Paul came to stand beside me, and we watched as Audrina started to walk between the paintings, very carefully, examining all the pieces that were before her, taking her time to analyze each landscape without saying a word.

I was glad I wasn’t in Paul’s shoes in that moment. It was unnerving having someone examining his work with such scrutiny, waiting for the verdict.

Audrina looked at the paintings for about ten to fifteen minutes, although I was sure it seemed longer to Paul. His impatient words confirmed as much.

“So, what do you think?” he urged at some point. “The suspense is killing me.”

“These are the same ones I looked at before, correct?”

“Yes,” Paul replied with confidence.

That was so typical of him. There was clearly a reprimand in Audrina’s voice, yet he completely disregarded it.

“So?” Paul asked again.

Audrina looked at me before looking at Paul. “May I be completely honest with you?”

“Of course. That’s why I’m here; because I value your opinion,” Paul countered, turning on his charm.

I knew he didn’t actually mean that. Or to be more accurate, he only cared if she agreed with him; that he was the greatest painter since Picasso. Which he was not.

And I knew he would have the biggest fit if she once again turned him down, and refused to display and sell his paintings in her gallery because they weren’t good enough.

She will turn him down, and then I’ll have to deal with him. Great, just great.

“Technically, there is nothing wrong with your work. Your strokes are confident, your selection of colors is immaculate.”

“I sense a but coming,” Paul said, wearing a fake smile.

“Typically, it’s not what my gallery sells,” Audrina replied simply.

That was a politically correct reply, I was sure.

“Maybe that’s a good thing. You can mix it up a little,” he offered, once again trying to be charming as he made eyes at her and raked his gaze over her.

I felt like rolling my eyes at him. Didn’t he know he was barking up the wrong tree? Then again, Paul didn’t believe women could actually be gay. To him, those were simply women who didn’t know him yet.

Barf, I know.

Audrina looked at me again, and I pleaded with my eyes to be gentle. I really needed this to go well, so he would continue working on selling the mansion and not sulk for days and refuse to leave his room.

That was what happened last time Audrina turned him down.

“As a favor to Anna, I’ll see if I can work something out,” she hedged.

I sighed with relief.

This was better than flat-out refusing him.

Paul beamed. “I’ll leave them with you then.” He checked the time. “It’s a long drive back upstate, but thank you, Audrina.” He actually kissed her hand after saying that.

She rolled her eyes so only I could see it.

I suppressed a laugh. Audrina had never approved of my choice of partner, but like a good friend, never said a word. I wouldn’t have listened anyway; I was too blinded by love.

“That went well,” I said once we got inside the car.

“It went terrific,” Paul corrected, starting the car.

“You really think so?” I couldn’t decide if he was acting or genuine.

“She had to hesitate to save face for turning me down all these years ago, but it was obvious she jumped at the opportunity to correct that wrong,” he explained.

We were at the same meeting? Right? All the same, I was no fool to contradict him. If he wanted to believe that, then so be it.

“Do you want me to drop you off at the house or at the nearest subway?” Paul offered, as though he was being very generous, leaving me speechless for a moment. He was as subtle in his notion to get rid of me as a sledgehammer.

“I don’t need anything from the house, drive straight to the estate,” I replied playing dumb.

I knew exactly why he wanted to get rid of me, so he could go and see his mistress and return to the estate with her; however, I wasn’t born yesterday.

Besides, Thornton had already informed me that he had managed to track Marianne down, which wasn’t easy, and it looked like she was packing, preparing to leave her hiding place. That could only mean Paul and Marianne planned for her to arrive at the estate for the weekend.

I knew I could prevent that from happening. I could alert Cameron to her whereabouts, but I wouldn’t do that, because I wanted to confront her. I wanted to stand in front of the woman who was trying to steal my future from me. And I wasn’t speaking about Paul. I was talking about the money, of course.

Once again, Paul didn’t look pleased he had failed to get rid of me. He appeared nervous. He’d run out of excuses, and since I had just helped him a great deal with Audrina, he had no other option than to drive us back to the estate.

Noreen, bless her heart, greeted us once we got back with food and news. The food was delicious as always, and the news was even better. Carlos hadn’t returned. Although I wasn’t holding my breath it would remain like that.

That odd man seemed strangely attached to this place, and it made me wonder if he knew Paul’s uncle. Was there a chance James had allowed him to stay, pitying him? Even if that was the case, no matter how charitable it appeared, it was definitely causing problems for us now.

That night, Paul and I were lounging in one of the many sitting rooms – and Paul’s phone started ringing. And not for the first time. Each time he would answer, the person calling would hang up.

The first time it rang, Paul excused himself, clearly thinking Marianne was calling him, but then he returned with a frown on his face. Being curious, I asked who it was, and Paul said he had no idea.

Of course, we both started suspecting Cameron was playing tricks on him, for what purpose, I couldn’t guess. Then again, it could be that homeless guy, Carlos. Something this crazy sounded like it could be him too.

Paul threw the phone on the table; it clunked ever so slightly. “I don’t understand what is going on,” he fumed.

The last time they called, he even put it on speakerphone so we could both hear someone breathing on the other end. Was it Cameron or Carlos? I wondered.

“I don’t know, Paul,” I replied honestly.

“I can’t believe this. Why won’t this psycho leave me alone?” Paul complained, whining after each phone call. Paul was convinced it was Cameron.

Why won’t you leave his wife alone? was on the tip of my tongue.

“He feels wronged, and can’t let go,” I offered as an explanation.

Paul looked at me as though I had insulted him like never before. “Excuse me?”

“Like it or not, this is all your fault for sleeping with his wife,” I pointed out, with a small shrug.

Perhaps if Paul stopped negating his role in all this, then he would be able to find a way out of it. Crying woe is me solved nothing.

Paul stormed out of the room after hearing that, which was typical. He couldn’t handle criticism at his expense. I married a big, spoiled baby, I thought with exasperation.

About fifteen minutes later, Noreen came and sat beside me. I figured he would go to cry to his mother. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that to me. He always sent Noreen to clean up his mess, and the infuriating part was that she always did; no matter what Paul did she always came running to the rescue.

“You have something to say?” I prompted, not being able to stand the silence.

“I only wish to share an observation.”

“Okay?”

“Both you and my son are under a lot of stress. All this fighting is no good.”

I was very aware of that. “Can you blame me?” I challenged.

She smiled. “You are a good wife putting up with him,” she offered. “However, it’s obvious the two of you need a break. It would be good for my son to be reminded of what he’s missing.”

I was confused. “What are you saying, do you want me to leave?” I asked incredulously. There was no way I was leaving. She could forget about that.

“Of course not,” she was quick to reassure me. “Your place is here, just sleep for a little bit in a different wing. You need a break from all the fighting.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Paul and I weren’t sleeping in the same room and hadn’t been since we’d got to the mansion. All the same, I said, “All right. I’ll do as you say.”

Noreen nodded, patting me on the hand, clearly pleased, before rushing to the adjacent room. It was obvious Paul was waiting for her there, and she went to share the results of our talk.

By the whines that followed, it was obvious Paul was displeased I wasn’t returning to New York City; however, Noreen clearly said something that put him back in his place.

“Thank you, Mom,” I heard Paul say. “You’re the only woman in my life I can always rely on.”

It was obvious he had spoken louder for my benefit. Naturally, I rolled my eyes at that. It was hilarious that he couldn’t live without causing drama. Or trying to cause drama, to put it more accurately, because I wasn’t falling for it anymore. I was sure he thought I would come storming in there to argue with him.

I got up, ready to go to my new room and retire for the night when I heard Paul speak in a lowered tone. His words stopped me in my tracks.

“I’ll always be grateful you protected me from Dad when I was a kid.”

That intrigued me so I neared the door silently, trying to eavesdrop without getting caught.

“You remember that?” Noreen asked, clearly surprised.

“Of course I do. I’ll never be able to forget those beatings.” He sounded so matter-of-fact.

Paul’s dad used to beat him? I never knew that.

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Noreen said to her son, clearly overcome by emotions as her voice broke.

“Don’t be. It sounds awful, I know how much you loved him, but I was glad when he died of that heart attack. We were finally free from him.”

I heard them moving in the kitchen and took a step back, afraid they were coming in here. Then Noreen replied something in Italian that I didn’t understand. It sounded like it was muffled as well, like she was speaking into his shoulder. It dawned on me that she’d moved to hug him, that was what I’d heard.

I went to my room deciding to let them have their moment, without further eavesdropping, pondering what I had heard.

Although I was sorry to hear Paul hadn’t had as happy a childhood as I imagined, I also had to wonder if he’d meant for me to hear that last part of his conversation with his mom. We’d been married for twelve years, and he’d never mentioned anything like that to me before, so I couldn’t imagine he actually wanted me to know now.

Still, it was an odd thing for him to bring up in that moment. I wondered if that was why he’d never wanted kids, or why he’d never really grown up.

It didn’t change my mind about leaving him though. Nor about wanting my fair share of this house and its assets. I would have what I was owed.

TWENTY-ONE

ANNA

Paul was so frustrating. And he was driving me crazy with his attitude. I didn’t see the point in trying to play happy families in front of Noreen, but I also didn’t want her to know that I was speaking to a lawyer and getting ready to divorce her son. Not yet. I still wanted this place sold so I could get my share of the profits.

I’d dressed up a bit today because I was going to meet with my lawyer and Thornton later. Seeing as I was on the other side of the house now, I had to track Paul down to let him know I was leaving, but that I fully expected him to continue getting things assessed here. I knew Noreen was happy to do it, but Paul needed to take some responsibility too. It was our property after all.

As I got close to his room, I could hear him talking, and I wondered who it was he was speaking to. I crept closer so I could hear better. The door was partially open, so it made it easier to overhear.

“—love it here. I really want you here, sweetheart. It’ll be so much safer for you.”

My jaw ticked. He was talking to that tramp. I had half a mind to barge in and make him hang up with her.

“Yeah, we’re selling it. I know, but look at it this way, I’ll be able to give you money, and after I divorce Anna, we can sell the house in the city too, and with that money we can get a place, and set you up in your own building for your tattoo shop, won’t that be nice? Maybe we’ll find a place where you can do tattoos and I can paint.”

Wait. Did he just say he was selling my house? And he was giving the money to that bitch?

Oh, that was it. I’d had enough. Clearly, Marianne needed to be put back in her place.

Instead of barging into his room and fighting with him, I left him to his conversation. It would be one of his last with her if I had any say about it. I was going to go see her and have it out with her.

I returned to my room quickly, to grab my dress coat and gloves. I headed down the stairs and set my coat and gloves on the back of the sofa, then put on a smile as I walked into the kitchen. “Good morning, Noreen.”

“Good morning, oh, look at you. You look so fancy; did you dress up for Paul?” she asked, giving me the sweetest smile.

“Well, I thought I’d make an effort. He’s preoccupied, though, so I thought I’d run into the city, do a little shopping. Would you like to come?” I asked, praying she’d say no. My plans wouldn’t work if she said yes.

“Oh dear, I’d love to, but remember we have that estate person coming to assess the value of James’s collections.”

“Oh, that’s right, I’d forgotten. Do you need me to stay?”

“Of course not, dear. Paul and I can handle it.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” I replied, feeling relieved. “I promise I won’t be gone too long. I should be back later this afternoon.”

“Wonderful, I will have a nice dinner made for the three of us.”

“That sounds great, Noreen. Thank you.” I moved forward and gave her a hug. “I’ll see you later.” I couldn’t help the little pep in my step as I grabbed my coat and gloves from the living room and headed out the door to my car.

My meeting with my lawyer went well. Thornton was there too and presented him with some of the evidence he’d collected on Paul’s infidelity, and I told him of the conversation I’d overheard between Paul and Marianne. Thornton was angry about Paul’s audacity, but I wasn’t too worried about it. We had lunch and then he had to go back to work. Mine wasn’t the only case he was investigating. That worked out well for me. I had told him I was going to do a little shopping, which wasn’t a lie, I was going to do some, but I had a stop or two to make first.

The bell above the door tinkled, announcing my presence to the shop owner. She looked up and her eyes grew wide.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, defensively.

I looked around the shop; it was kind of dingy, the lighting was dim, except for at the tattoo tables where she had lamps positioned to see whatever it was that she was doing. There was a front desk that was empty; in fact, the entire shop was pretty empty, which suited me fine. I dragged my gloved finger over the counter, it was dusty, and I looked from my now dirty gloves to her. I turned and glanced at the walls, which were covered with pictures of various tattoos I assumed customers could get. She was talented, I’d give her that. Against one wall, on top of a bar, sat a pot of coffee on a warmer with empty mugs; I assumed again they were for her clients, but you couldn’t make me drink something that was left open like that in a place like this.

“We need to talk, Marianne.” I gave her a hard stare.

She stood up from her and crossed her arms as she moved forward toward me. “We’ve got nothing to talk about,” she said huffily, as though she was the wronged party in this encounter.

I smiled. “Oh, but we do. We really, really do.” I strolled toward her, picking up things on her work table and looking at them. “I know you and Paul have been having an affair. In fact, I have known for quite a while now. And I think you need to end things with him before something happens that you’ll regret.”

“Why should I? Paul doesn’t love you anymore, he loves me. He’s going to take care of me.” Her chin lifted as though she was daring me to tell her he wouldn’t.

I narrowed my eyes at her as I decided to try another tactic. “You don’t wonder how Cameron found out about you and Paul?”

Her eyes widened. “You told him? He’s dangerous! You shouldn’t have said anything, he’s already tried to kill Paul once, don’t you care?”

“Listen up, you break things off, get out of here, and don’t contact him again, am I clear?” I said, tapping my foot as I lifted up her coffee mug and sniffed it, then set it back down. I turned in front of her work table to face her. “I don’t want to see you or hear from you ever again. You don’t want to mess with me, I can be just as dangerous as that ex-husband of yours. Understand?”

“Get out of my shop. I can do whatever I want, and what I want is to see Paul. I’m going to that house upstate and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” She remained defiant and I knew she wasn’t going to do what I asked.

Sighing, I just shook my head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Goodbye, Marianne.” I pushed off her work table and headed for the door. I had only a little bit of regret as I walked out of the shop and headed for my next destination.

TWENTY-TWO

PAUL

The weekend finally arrived, which meant Marianne was finally coming to see me. After all this drama around the estate, I really needed to be with her. I missed her like crazy.

She had said she would catch a bus to the nearest town, and from there she was going to get a cab. At least that was the plan.

It was a huge bummer that Anna refused to return to New York City; however, I was determined to make it work. Marianne would simply have to stay at the groundskeeper’s cottage, out of everyone’s sight, so Mom and Anna would be none the wiser.

I checked the time. In just a few hours Marianne will be in my arms, I thought impatiently.

It was a blessing that Anna was off shopping, God only knew where, spending money from the joint account that I wasn’t allowed to touch. I wasn’t cross though, because this was a great opportunity for me to sneak Marianne in.

Mom had left that morning as well, without telling me where she was going, so I was completely alone on the estate, and I had to admit I liked the feeling. We were supposed to meet with the guy who was assessing Uncle James’s art again, but they’d called and rescheduled, which worked perfectly for me because it meant I could get things ready for Marianne.

Considering Mom had managed to move Anna to a completely different wing, my first thought was to place Marianne in my room; however, I realized that was risky since Mom liked to come into my room at times, to make sure I was all right, and see that I was tucked in tightly and other childish things.

It would be a disaster if she found Marianne in my bed, and she would just about have a heart attack if she saw us having sex.

Marianne would be more comfortable in the groundskeeper’s cottage. She would have her privacy and wouldn’t have to sneak around to go to the kitchen or bathroom. Also, Mom and Anna gave the whole place a scrub since the homeless man was staying there so I knew it was immaculate.

I will greet her like the queen she is. I felt like patting myself on the back for coming up with such a brilliant plan. Where is she? I grumbled, checking the time again. She should be here by now.

Although foolish, I went outside, as though that could change anything, and make her arrive quicker. I got my phone out of my pocket, ready to call her and see where she was, when my mother appeared in front of me, so I aborted the mission.

“I didn’t know you had come back,” I said, trying to hide how disappointed I was by that fact.

“I returned hours ago,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “I was looking for you, actually.”

What does she want now? I thought in exasperation. Mom was constantly full of great ideas regarding the estate. Not.

“Why were you looking for me?”

“I need your help.”

I groaned inwardly. “I’m actually kind of busy at the moment, Mom.”

She looked at me incredulously, “With what, precisely?” she challenged.

She had me there because I couldn’t exactly say how I was waiting for my girlfriend to arrive.

“What do you need me to do?” I asked instead of answering.

“Come with me. There are a few pieces in your uncle’s study that I would like you to see. Perhaps you will want to keep them, as mementos.”

I made a face at that. “Why would I want to keep anything?” It wasn’t like we shared the same taste in art. “Just sell it all,” I replied a bit impatiently.

I really hope Marianne will call me once she gets to the estate instead of buzzing at the front gate. I didn’t want people inside the household to know we had a guest. I should have texted her that.

“You need to see them, Paul. Do not make rash decisions,” my mother chastised.

I sighed, following after her. And since she wasn’t paying that close attention to me, I dialed Marianne. And then I tried her again because she wasn’t picking up.

What the hell?

“Where are you?” I texted in haste, before stashing the phone away. We reached Uncle’s study, and Mom started to proudly show me the art piece she deemed worth saving.

It went without saying everything was hideous. But I wasn’t cross at my mother because she had dragged me there for nothing. She was a humble housewife after all; she didn’t know anything about art.

While my mother was doing her thing, I was only partly listening to her, the rest was stressing, worrying about Marianne. She wasn’t picking up her phone, and she didn’t text me back. My pocket would vibrate if she did.

Did Cameron manage to track her down? Did he hurt her?

I was trying not to jump to any conclusions; however, sitting around, waiting for her to get in touch with me was driving me insane. I had half a mind to jump into the car and start driving around, in search of her. There was only one problem with that. I didn’t have a freaking car. Cameron had destroyed my car. And Anna still hadn’t returned.

And I couldn’t take my mom’s because she would definitely pester me to know what I needed it for. It was a nightmare.

“So, what do you think?” my mother asked at some point.

“I really don’t know,” I replied vaguely.

She frowned. “You don’t like it. But how about this? It would look beautiful in your living room…” she continued to drone on and on.

Why did she care if I kept something or not? I knew I could ask, but I realized I didn’t care enough to learn, especially while I had more pressing matters on my mind.

I had to find out what had happened to Marianne, but how? It was definitely too early to call the police.

I’m overreacting, I told myself sternly. There were plenty of reasons why she still hadn’t arrived, why she couldn’t answer her phone. I just had to be a little bit more patient, and everything would be explained by her once she arrived.

A couple of hours later, I felt like jumping out of my skin since Marianne still hadn’t reached out, or arrived. I was sitting in the living room, the one that had a beautiful view of the back gardens, checking my phone non-stop.

What had happened to her? Did she even get onto the bus? What if she’d changed her mind, and was now avoiding me because of it? All kinds of thoughts passed through my head.

To make matters worse, Anna came back from her shopping, carrying a single bag, which I found odd. She had been gone for hours and had purchased only one thing. Perhaps I should be grateful she didn’t spend that much money. Also, she looked kind of rattled, and I wondered what happened to her.

Considering she knew all about Marianne, was there a chance she ran into her, and chased her away? I started to postulate. No, that couldn’t be it. If something like that had happened, Marianne would have called me instantly to complain.

The fact she hadn’t meant something else had happened to her.

“What happened, Anna?” I found myself asking.

Anna took a deep breath before replying. “Carlos is back on the property,” she informed us.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yes. I saw him going into the cottage.”

The same cottage I intended for Marianne to stay at. Son of a bitch.

“I don’t like it,” Anna continued. “Why would he come back?”

She asked that as though I would have an inkling of what was happening inside that man’s crazy brain.

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “But I’m not too worried about him as long as he stays in the groundskeeper’s cottage for now.” This wasn’t exactly true, given the Marianne situation, but I just couldn’t deal with him at the moment. I was too worried about Marianne to think about anything else.

Anna jerked as though I had slapped her. “How can you say that? How can you allow something like that? Did you forget that man came at me with a sickle?”

How could I forget when you keep reminding me? “As Sheriff Price said, he was just frightened. Don’t go provoking him and he won’t be a problem.”

“Do you really think that’s wise?” she challenged.

Why are we still having this conversation? I thought in exasperation.

“Uncle James clearly let him be. Let’s do the same, at least for the time being.”

And I will find another place for Marianne to stay. Somewhere closer to me. If she comes. I banished that last thought. Of course, she will come.

And then something else occurred to me. Apparently, I had opened a B&B with all these people staying at the estate. It was just that nobody was paying me.

“You know, he’s the same man who was at the graveside,” Anna said after a pause.

“What man?” I asked, feeling like I missed part of the conversation.

“Don’t you remember? I pointed him out to you. Carlos is that homeless man who attended your uncle’s funeral.”

I nodded, just about placing his face with all those other weirdos at the funeral. “He clearly knew Uncle James.”

“You know, when I saw him at the graveside, I noted that he kind of looks like you. It’s creepy,” she shared.

I frowned. “Thank you very much for comparing me to a homeless lunatic.” My wife really knows how to give me a compliment, I scoffed. It was like she was constantly trying to find new ways to hurt me.

“Don’t you find it strange?”

“What? A coincidence? You know what, don’t answer it. I don’t want to speak about it anymore,” I snapped.

I had enough on my plate as it was, to think about some random homeless man and the fact he shared few facial similarities with me. As though that was some kind of a big deal. A lot of people looked like me, one way or the other. It didn’t mean anything monumental. It must mean nature liked repeating itself when reaching perfection, I joked to myself.

“I agree with Anna on this one, my dear. We cannot ignore this problem,” my mother decided to join in on this completely futile conversation. “No matter how unfortunate his situation is, he needs to leave. This is no place for him.”

I groaned inwardly. Why won’t they leave me alone? Unfortunately, that wasn’t the biggest issue. Once again, Mom was eavesdropping on my conversation with Anna. And I didn’t like that, at all. It didn’t matter that she was sitting in the same room, she should have butted out.

It appeared to me that having her around, in the mansion, was a nightmare. How could I ask her to return home without hurting her feelings? There was only one answer to that. I couldn’t ask her. It had to be her own decision. And she would never leave while thinking I needed her help.

I was doomed. Surrounded by women I wanted gone, while the woman I wanted by my side was nowhere to be seen.

“Mom, can I please deal with one problem at a time?”

She looked at me dubiously. “What other problems do you have, Paul? What is more important than getting rid of that homeless man from your property?” she challenged.

I bit my tongue because I couldn’t tell the truth.

“The longer we wait, the harder it will be to get rid of him,” Anna pointed out.

My mother nodded at that. “Exactly.”

I hated when they ganged up against me like this.

“If you are so displeased with me, then maybe I should get my clone to do your bidding instead of me,” I snapped, irritated.

My mother frowned at that. “What clone?”

“You heard Anna. She thinks Carlos looks like me.”

My mother scoffed at that, looking at Anna. “I do not appreciate you saying that. Nobody is like my Paul.”

“I didn’t mean as a person, but there is definitely a resemblance there,” Anna stood her ground.

My mother shook her head in disgust. “My Paul is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. And no others compare to my little man,” and saying that, she pinched me on the cheek.

Anna rolled her eyes at that. “I think I’m going to go lie down. My head is killing me. Noreen, I know you planned dinner, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ll take a rain check.”

“That’s fine, dear, go have a rest. I’ll save some for you for later.” Mom patted her on the shoulder, and Anna left the room.

I was relieved, to be honest. They were easier to handle separately. It was better for everybody if Anna stayed in her wing of the house without pestering me about homeless men and their looks.

“Are you hungry, my dear? I fixed us all a nice dinner,” my mother answered her own question, going to the kitchen, and leaving me alone.

I checked the phone again. No signs of Marianne.

Marianne, where the hell are you?

TWENTY-THREE

ANNA

I woke up and immediately knew something was off with me. I barely made it to the bathroom before the heaving started. I stayed bent over a toilet, puking my guts out, for quite some time, and afterward, I returned to bed, not trusting myself to move, let alone start my day.

What the hell? I wondered if I ate something yesterday that didn’t agree with me. But I was sure nothing was wrong with Noreen’s cooking.

I couldn’t even think about food because it was making me queasy, so I focused on relaxing, and breathing. This was one of those twenty-four-hour things and nothing else. It had to be.

Considering it was still pretty early in the morning, I decided it would be best to try and return to sleep. I did, and once I woke again, my stomach had completely settled, and I went downstairs to make myself some toast for breakfast.

It was wise to stick to the basics, not wanting to upset my stomach again by eating anything more complex than that. I made myself some tea for good measure as well.

Once I finished my meal, I found Paul in the living room. He was staring through the window, looking rattled about something.

“Paul, what’s the matter?” I couldn’t help asking. Not that I really cared, but if it had to do with the estate, I needed to know.

After all, it was in my best interest to find a buyer and sell the mansion as soon as possible.

Paul looked reluctant to speak with me.

I immediately wondered if that homeless man, Carlos, had tried something. Then again, Paul wouldn’t be so tongue-tied if that was the case. It was something more personal than that.

“Tell me,” I pressed.

“Marianne is missing, okay?” he practically snapped at me.

I pretended to be surprised. “Missing? What do you mean she is missing? How do you know?” I bombarded him with questions.

Was I overdoing it?

“I can’t get in touch with her. She’s not answering her phone, she’s not texting me back, complete radio silence, and I’m worried,” he explained.

I believed him. He actually looked worried about another human being that wasn’t him, or his mother.

“And why are you trying to get in touch with her, when you promised it was over between the two of you?” I challenged. Although I knew the answer to that question very well, I still wanted to hear him say it and watch him squirm.

He looked away as he replied, “She was supposed to come this weekend for a visit.”

“I knew it,” I exclaimed, playing up my outrage.

He remained silent.

“You are such a bastard, Paul, and you deserve everything that is happening to you. What goes around comes around. And don’t think I’m going to let this slide. The divorce will be back on soon.”

“Whatever, I don’t need a lecture from you,” he snapped in return, completely ignoring the fact I’d just said I would be divorcing him.

He probably thinks I won’t go through with it, but he’s wrong. I absolutely will this time. He is simply trying to do what he always does, trying to blame others for his mistakes.

“Maybe your mother will be able to put some sense in you.”

“Don’t you dare tell her anything,” he snapped getting his feathers ruffled.

I wasn’t planning to, but it was amusing to see how much he feared Noreen.

“Don’t you have any compassion?” he accused. “No matter what you think of me, the fact still remains Marianne is not responding to me.”

“So now I should feel sorry for your mistress?” Unbelievable. “She is definitely not my problem,” I was adamant.

“If Cameron managed to get to her, then that could definitely turn into your problem too,” he argued in return.

Fat chance of that happening.

Now, though, I didn’t want to act indifferent to Paul about this, even though I didn’t care about him or even her anymore. I did, however, care about the money, and I was going to get what was coming to me out of this inheritance, and I wasn’t going to let some tramp get in my way.

If in the future he wanted to squander his half of the inheritance on some bimbo, then that was his prerogative; however, before that happened, I had to make sure nobody touched my half.

Our conversation was shortened with Noreen coming into the room. She immediately guessed something was wrong.

“Why are you looking so glum, my dear?” she asked Paul, glancing at me. “What were you talking about so seriously?”

Did she think I had done that to him?

I decided to end her misery and tell the truth, although that wasn’t my initial plan. I didn’t care about Paul’s threats. I wasn’t afraid of him.

“Paul’s mistress has disappeared, and he can’t find her,” I explained without sugarcoating it, while Paul sent daggers my way.

He certainly didn’t want Noreen to find out he was still an unfaithful bastard, which made this moment all the sweeter to me.

I was of the opinion Noreen deserved to know the truth about her sweet boy, and what he was really like. Not that she would do anything about it. She was too blind where he was concerned.

“Is this the same one as before?” Noreen asked, surprising me, to be honest. I thought she would brush all to the side.

“Yes, Cameron’s wife,” I replied.

“Anna, cut it out,” Paul snapped at me.

“Your mother deserves to know the truth.”

“And you are a bad boy for trying to lie to your own mother,” Noreen snapped, hitting him on the head, but not too hard.

He whined all the same.

“So that other woman is missing?” she asked next.

“Yup. She was supposed to come here for a romantic weekend with Paul and hasn’t shown up,” I happily explained.

Noreen tsked at Paul. “Perhaps her volatile husband got a hold of her, and punished her,” she suggested.

“Mom, don’t say that,” Paul complained, although it was obvious that he was thinking the same thing.

“Why not? That’s probably what happened,” Noreen countered calmly.

It was a good assumption, all things considered. “He tried to kill you, my dear.” Noreen continued, “It’s logical to assume he would go after her too.”

“Didn’t you say he threatened to go after her?” I interjected.

“Oh my God,” Paul cried putting his head into his palms.

“Calling for God won’t solve this,” his mother chastised.

I really adored Noreen. I wished to be just like her when I grew up.

Paul grabbed his phone and dialed Sheriff Price. He’d called him so much, no wonder he had his personal number among his contacts.

“Hello, Sheriff? Paul Wilson here.” There was a short pause before he continued. “No, I am not calling about Carlos, although he is back living on the property… That’s right, I’ve let him stay for the time being… I’m calling about a more pressing issue. How do I file a missing person report?”

“You know, dear,” Noreen said to me, while Paul was lost in his conversation with the sheriff, “you shouldn’t worry about this other woman coming between you and Paul,” she advised in a hushed voice, although she really didn’t have to bother. She could have yelled from the top of her head and Paul still would be none the wiser, too consumed by his worry toward Marianne.

I wasn’t worried at all about my state of marriage; however, I was really looking forward to hearing why Noreen thought so.

“I shouldn’t?” I prompted.

“No, she’s just a temporary infatuation. He loves you.”

It was more than a temporary infatuation, I was more than aware of that, but I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t love him either. However, I kept all that to myself.

Noreen took my silence as sadness, so she continued to encourage me. “Men act stupid like this at times, but they always come to their senses. They come back to their wives.”

“What about those men who divorce to marry their mistresses?” I couldn’t help myself, I had to ask.

“Even they know they made a mistake, eventually,” Noreen replied, firmly. “But it will never come to that with Paul. I won’t allow it,” she reassured me.

I simply nodded at that, playing along. It was imperative for me to have Noreen on my side. She pulled the strings where Paul was concerned after all. He pretended that wasn’t the case, but it was. It was just disappointing that it took me too much time to figure it out.

“No matter what, I will always love you like a daughter.”

“I love you too, Noreen,” I said, meaning it with all my heart, giving the old woman a big hug. No matter what happened between me and Paul in the future, I was sure that would remain the truth.

And although it didn’t sit well with me that I was deceiving her, in some manner, it had to be done, because I had my future to think about. And to ensure it, I had a lot of work ahead of me. I had to get rid of any and all potential threats to me and mine and get the mansion and estate ready for sale. Afterward, I could happily divorce Paul, receiving half of everything he had, and then live life to the fullest. Preferably with Thornton by my side.

That was the goal, and for that, it was better to have Noreen on my side. Something was telling me Noreen could be a formidable enemy if she wanted to be, and I certainly didn’t want to test that theory. She was also a survivor like me. Her family had escaped Italian fascists after all, and come to America to start a new, better life. She was incredible.

Sometime later, much to my surprise, Sheriff Price arrived, wanting to speak with Paul. I had no idea that he was making house calls when missing persons were involved.

“I was just about to come to the station,” Paul said to the other man.

Sheriff Price looked very serious, troubled even. “I’m afraid I have some bad news to share with you.”

“What is it?” Paul pressed. “Did you find Marianne?”

“She was found dead the day before yesterday, in her tattoo parlor.”

“What?” Paul exclaimed, swaying on his feet. “What do you mean dead? She can’t be dead, I just spoke with her the other day,” Paul rambled. “What was she doing in her shop anyway, she was supposed to come here!”

I couldn’t take my eyes off of Paul. I didn’t know he was capable of such emotion. Then again, perhaps I was judging him too harshly. I was sure that there was a part of him that had genuinely loved me, at least at the beginning of our relationship. Eventually, it wore off, because it wasn’t true love, and selfishness took its place. It was sad, but our marriage wasn’t unique in that sense.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sheriff Price said somewhat awkwardly. He knew the situation, so it was apparently very strange to him to offer his condolences to Paul in front of his wife because his mistress died.

Welcome to my life.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Paul started to shake his head. “She can’t be dead.”

I thought Noreen would go to him, try to calm him down, and offer support, but she didn’t. She stayed beside me. It was very strange seeing him like that. I almost felt pity for him. Almost.

“What goes around comes around,” I muttered to myself.

Apparently, Paul heard me.

His eyes flashed with fury. “You,” he said pointing a finger at me. “You killed her,” he accused, in front of the sheriff, startling me, by the sheer intensity of his words.

TWENTY-FOUR

PAUL

It all made sense to me now, all the pieces fit perfectly together. Why Anna wasn’t particularly bothered that I had lied to her? Why she was absent the whole day, returning home with only one shopping bag? It was all because she had confronted Marianne. She killed her.

“Yes, you killed her, “I repeated my accusation. Anna killed Marianne. I knew in my heart that was the truth.

“I didn’t kill anyone, you bastard!” Anna yelled in return, heat flushing her entire face. Of course, she was attacking me to hide her guilt.

“Oh, just admit it,” I snapped in return. “You were jealous that I was happy with someone else. You couldn’t stand it, so you had to take her away from me,” I attacked.

“Mr. Wilson, calm down,” Sheriff Price came to stand in front of me, blocking my view of Anna, that murderous whore. “I know you’re upset; however, you cannot go around accusing people of murder,” he pointed out.

I felt like punching him in the face. I was sick and tired of his uselessness. He didn’t want to help me regarding Carlos, and now he negated something that was obvious to everyone but him. Anna had killed Marianne. I knew that was the truth, and nobody could convince me otherwise.

“She killed Marianne,” I insisted.

“I didn’t, and stop saying that.”

“I know she did it,” I continued to speak, despite Anna trying to stop me. “She wanted to punish me, hurt me because I cheated on her,” I explained. How could he not see that? Instead of arguing with me, he should be arresting her. I felt like I constantly had to do his job instead of him.

“Mr. Wilson, would you like to know how Mrs. Blake died?” Sheriff Price asked calmly.

I gritted my teeth, waiting for him to share that with me, although it didn’t really matter how Anna had done it, I knew she did it. End of story. I moved ever so slightly so I could look into Anna’s face.

She looked back at me defiantly, coldly. It was unnerving to see her like that, her true self, for the first time. It was obvious how smug she was, thinking she was going to get away with it. But I wasn’t going to allow that. She would pay for taking Marianne from me.

“Mrs. Blake was in her tattoo shop with a client when all of a sudden she started gasping for air, falling to the floor, and convulsing,” Sheriff Price explained, painting a pretty macabre picture for me.

I frowned since none of that made any sense to me. What was she doing there in the first place when she was supposed to come see me? That was the plan after all. Did she change her mind?

“Sheriff, I don’t understand. That makes no sense,” I rebelled. “Why was she in her shop with a client while knowing it wasn’t safe for her there? And more importantly, why was she working when she was supposed to be on a bus coming to see me?” I wondered out loud, completely bemused. My mind could not comprehend what was going on. Nothing made sense.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Wilson. I don’t possess such information. I am simply stating what happened to Mrs. Blake.”

She had gasped for air and then collapsed.

“Sheriff, what are you saying precisely?” I had to ask. “Did she die of a heart attack or something?”

Was it possible she died from a natural cause? My whole body rebelled against that idea. She was only thirty-one, very healthy and fit. Her heart was very strong, I was sure of that. People like that didn’t just drop dead unexpectedly.

“Actually, the coroner discovered she ingested a large amount of camphor about ninety minutes before her death,” Sheriff Price shared with the group.

Camphor. I had no idea what camphor was, or why Marianne would eat it.

“What’s camphor?” I asked him.

“It’s one of the ingredients used in essential oils for its strong smell, and it’s also used in rheumatic cremes to alleviate the pain. It is highly toxic, deadly if ingested,” the sheriff explained, sounding like he was quoting something he read before coming here.

“So, she was murdered after all,” I concluded, victoriously, glaring at Anna.

“Yes,” he agreed.

She did it after all. I had no idea how she made Marianne eat that stuff, or how she knew about it in the first place, but Anna was very smart. She clearly found a way.

“Considering the nature of Mrs. Blake’s death, I am obliged to ask all of you about your whereabouts the day before yesterday,” Sheriff Price said, sounding official.

“I was here with Mom, and Anna was gone all day,” I pointed out.

“Can someone corroborate that?” Sheriff Price asked.

“That Anna was away? Ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“That you were here,” he corrected.

I was surprised by his words. Was he honestly suspecting me? Unbelievable.

“I don’t know. Maybe that homeless man you love so much saw me while I walked around the grounds,” I jibed. “Or maybe ask the gardener, he was here too.”

He ignored that, turning to look at the women. “Ma’am, do you own anything made of camphor?” he asked my mother, much to my chagrin.

“I’m an old woman, Sheriff. I take a lot of things simply to get out of bed in the morning,” she explained.

“What about you, Mrs. Wilson, where were you on the day in question?”

Finally, the sheriff was asking the right question.

“I was out and about shopping,” Anna replied simply.

“I’m afraid I will need more information than that,” Sheriff Price insisted.

I felt like smiling. Anna was going to pay for what she did to me.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Sheriff. I visited a lot of stores yesterday.”

“Do you have someone or something who could verify where you were that shows you weren’t near Mrs. Blake’s shop from about 1 p.m. to 3.30 p.m. when Mrs. Blake died?”

“She doesn’t, because she’s lying,” I commented, but they all ignored me.

Anna thought about it for a moment. “Well, I had lunch with a friend from twelve thirty to about ten after one, then I went shopping. I bought a few trinkets at a junk shop,” she explained. “Just a moment.” She turned to pick up her purse and opened it, fishing out a receipt from her bag. “And once I finished, I went to have coffee with my friend Audrina at Stumptown on Twenty-ninth Street, I have receipts with the time on them.” She handed all the papers to him.

Sheriff Price looked at the receipts, before nodding, returning them back to Anna. “Thank you.”

“That’s it?” I asked incredulously. How was that enough?

“Your wife has proof she was nowhere near Mrs. Blake at the time leading up to her death,” Sheriff Price explained to me with condescension.

“What? I don’t believe that!” I rebelled.

“The evidence does not lie, Mr. Wilson,” he insisted, a sneer on his face.

What is his problem with me?

I gritted my teeth. That made no sense. It had to be her. Who else would kill Marianne?

Unfortunately, the answer to that was quite obvious. Cameron.

“Then Cameron did it. I am sure of that,” I informed Sheriff Price. They needed to double up their search for that man.

“A second ago, you were sure your wife did it,” Sheriff Price pointed out, giving me a look of disdain.

“By the way, I forgive you for being an asshole,” Anna said all snidely.

I made a face. This was no time for pettiness. “Cameron has already tried to kill both of us. He set my car on fire with me still inside, if you remember, and he chased Marianne with a gun,” I explained to the sheriff.

“I agree with my son. This is the act of that fiend,” my mother decided to speak up. “He is a very dangerous man.”

“This is not my investigation. A detective from New York, Gabriel Penn, is the lead on the case; however, I will make sure to pass along everything discussed today,” Sheriff Price reassured us. He said it in such a way that he seemed almost regretful that he couldn’t charge me with Marianne’s murder.

I set my thoughts about his feelings toward me aside and thought about what he’d said. Detective Gabriel Penn, that name was familiar to me. He was the one searching for Cameron from the start, when he tried to kill me, and set me on fire. I didn’t like the fact he was the lead on Marianne’s murder because he had shown thus far how useless he was in locating Cameron. If he was a better detective, then none of this would have happened and Marianne would still be alive.

Sheriff Price excused himself. His work here was done as far as he was concerned. I sat down on the couch, defeated. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Marianne was dead. And it was all because of Cameron. Why was she at work? How could she be so careless? Why did she change her mind without speaking with me first?

My mind was full of questions; unfortunately, the answers were scarce.

On her way to see the sheriff out, my mother patted Anna on the arm. “I told you there was no reason to worry about that woman,” she said in a hushed voice before leaving.

Anna simply nodded at that.

I could just stare at them, after that exchange. Were they speaking about Marianne? Was my mother actually glad my girlfriend died? My mind rebelled against something like that, but I couldn’t ignore what happened.

Besides, I resented my mom being so nice to Anna when I was the one who needed consolation. Someone close to me had died, didn’t I deserve a pat on my hand, a warm hug? My girlfriend was murdered, where was her sympathy for me? Apparently, my mother used it all to comfort my wife. Unbelievable.

I was beyond upset by what happened, and by my mother’s behavior. I felt all alone, abandoned by everybody. And if Cameron killed Marianne, then that could only mean I was next. I was his next target.

All of a sudden, I started to feel as though the walls were closing in on me, and there was not enough air in the room. I went outside, to the back garden, needing to clear my head, realizing that panic was about to swallow me whole.

I couldn’t allow myself to panic. I had to be level-headed and find a way to survive. No matter how difficult that sounded, considering there was a homicidal maniac looking for me.

I started walking aimlessly around the estate. The gardener had really done an amazing job, I noted, even in my state. It was beautiful and peaceful outside, which was exactly what I needed in those moments. I had no idea how much I was paying him; however, he was definitely worth every cent.

Marianne would love it here. I suppressed a scream. I couldn’t believe she was gone. I would never be able to hold her again. Taste her skin, hear her scream…

Oh, Marianne, I already miss you like crazy, I sent to the ether.

Without actually realizing what I was doing, I ended up going toward the groundskeeper’s cottage, where that deranged squatter was hiding.

Why are all these bad things happening to me? What did I do to deserve all this? Why did I have to endure such terrible things in my life? I wondered. It was just too much. That was precisely why I couldn’t deal with Carlos in those moments. He had to become someone else’s problem.

As I pondered about all the misfortunes that fell upon me, the sun started to set. If life was fair, Marianne and I would be enjoying that magnificent sight together. Alas, she was taken away from me. Cameron took her away from me because he couldn’t handle that she had found a better man for herself than he ever was.

Sadly, knowing that changed nothing. I was still left all alone. I had no one. Even my mother and my wife were plotting something against me, I was sure of that.

I saw a light on in the cottage and went to investigate. I twisted the door knob, but the door refused to open when I knew I’d left it unlocked. “What the hell,” I muttered. I had added the keys to Uncle James’s house and outbuildings to my key ring, so I pulled them from my pocket and opened the door. “Who’s here?” I demanded.

Carlos appeared, looking bewildered. “Get out! This is my place.”

That was it. I was so tired of this. “No, it’s not! You need to leave. My uncle left this property to me, you need to get out, or I’ll have the sheriff come back and arrest you again for trespassing.” I was lying. Sheriff Price wouldn’t do anything to help me. He’d proven that already, but still, I hoped threatening the man would get him to go.

“But it’s mine,” he mumbled, looking confused. “He promised.”

“Look, buddy, I don’t know who you think promised you something about this place, but they were clearly lying to you. You need to go,” I demanded, pointing at the door.

“Nowhere for Carlos to go.” His shoulders drooped, and he seemed utterly defeated.

I felt bad for the guy, but it was my property. Still, it was dark out, maybe I could be nice just this once. “Look, you can stay here tonight, but I want you gone by morning. Okay?”

Carlos stared at me.

“By morning, got it?”

He shook his head, his lip trembling.

Sighing, I left and headed back to the house. Carlos had looked how I felt. Miserable and hurt. Losing Marianne hurt. I glanced around the outside of the property wondering if Cameron was out there somewhere planning to kill me the way he’d killed Marianne. That thought had me scurrying into the house and locking the door quickly.

“Paul? Where have you been?” Mom asked, looking concerned.

“That guy is back. Staying at the cottage.”

“Did you kick him out?”

“Well, yes, but he’s got nowhere to go, so I told him he could stay tonight.”

Mom pursed her lips and frowned at me. “You’re just encouraging him, Paul. He needs to go.”

I nodded as I peered out the windows looking to see if Cameron was out there watching. With the lights on in the room, it was hard to see anything hiding on the property. Then it dawned on me, I might not be able to see him, but he could absolutely see me. I grabbed the curtains and yanked them closed.

“What is the matter with you?” Mom asked, stepping forward and reopening the curtains.

“Stop, he could be out there watching!”

“Who?”

I grabbed the edges of the curtains again and pulled them closed once more. “That lunatic who’s already tried to kill me once.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, son, he’s not going to come here.” Mom shook her head. “Now, I think perhaps you ought to have an early night. Anna has already gone up to bed, you should as well.”

It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do, but she would only pester me if I didn’t, so I agreed and headed toward the stairs. “Goodnight, Mom.” I looked back at her and noticed she had a strange look on her face as she stared out the reopened curtains. I hesitated with one foot hovering over the first step. “You okay, Mom?”

She turned toward me and smiled. “Of course. Goodnight, dear. I’ll be up soon, just have a few things to take care of down here.”

I didn’t know what those things were, but I also didn’t want to find out and be made to help with whatever they were. “See you in the morning,” I said as I hurried up the steps.

TWENTY-FIVE

PAUL

A few days later, things had seemed to calm down a little bit, and I hadn’t seen any signs of Cameron around; however, I kept having this feeling that he was out there watching me. I didn’t like being out in the open anymore, and I stayed highly vigilant whenever I was out. I hadn’t seen Carlos after that day at the cottage, but I knew he was still around. I checked it every day, and there was always some new food container left in the trash, but I figured as long as he kept out of sight, it’d be fine. At least until I got this place sold.

With Marianne gone, I had no desire to be here anymore. I just wanted to get my life back. Go back to the way things were before. With Anna. I knew I’d probably have to grovel a little bit to make that happen, but I’d done it before, so I knew it wouldn’t be a problem. She’d take me back. She always did. And with Marianne gone, she had no reason not to take me back.

These were the thoughts playing through my mind as I walked the grounds alone after dinner with Mom and Anna. Eating with the two of them was a bit much, they always ganged up on me, making me out to be the bad guy. It wasn’t really fair. Anna wasn’t perfect after all. She had plenty of faults. Like all that nagging she did about the money in our joint account that I spent. She just didn’t understand that I had needed that break from everything. I felt stifled at my job. I couldn’t create, and I needed to be able to. It was part of who I was. I knew if I could just get the landscapes I envisioned onto the canvas, I would make it big. I just needed a break.

It was starting to get hard to see where I was going, considering there were no lights installed on this part of the property. I wondered if I’d have to upgrade that too before we sold the place. Uncle James was bizarre in more ways than I could count. Some things were state-of-the-art, modern, like the alarm system, but then again, he didn’t want lights out here on the paths around his property. He also didn’t have Wi-Fi or even basic cable.

All of a sudden, I lost my footing, tripping over something in the middle of the path and down I went.

Fuck. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, there was a possibility that I’d just sprained my ankle.

Trying to get up, I touched something big, and cold. Deathly cold.

Startled, freaked, and horrified, I realized with dread I was touching a dead body.

I screamed.

I put a hand over my mouth to stop myself from shouting, but then I pulled the hand away, just as fast, realizing where it had been. All the same, I couldn’t say why I bothered in the first place, it wasn’t like the noise could wake up the dead.

I scrambled up to my feet as my heart beat like crazy. I couldn’t believe I’d found a dead body, and in such a dim light it was hard to tell who it was. Do I really want to know? One thing was for sure, though, it had definitely started to reek. I felt sick to my stomach.

I backtracked to the mansion needing to tell everyone what just happened, what I had discovered. I found Mom and Anna in the living room, as before.

“Paul, what is the matter with you?” my mother asked as I stumbled inside.

“Call the police, now,” I replied in a rush.

My mother got up from her seat, right hand placed over her heart. “Dear, what happened? Why are you looking like that?”

Anna observed the exchange in silence.

Why isn’t she listening to me? I was stressed. I couldn’t care less how I looked. “Call the police, now,” I repeated, sternly. “There’s a dead body by the groundskeeper’s cottage.”

“Oh my God,” Anna exclaimed grabbing the phone and dialing the sheriff.

Mom sat back down, with her hand still pressed against her heart. This was what I had been fearing the most, it was too much stress for her and would be bad for her health. I also sat down, only then realizing I was shaking from head to toe.

Is it possible this is actually happening? Can’t I catch a break? I felt like everything and everyone was against me. It was one thing after another. Are you fucking kidding me? I yelled at whoever the fuck was listening. This wasn’t fun. Leave me the fuck alone.

Now that I could see both Mom and Anna sitting with me, I couldn’t help but wonder who died. Is it Cameron? I wondered, hopefully. That would be the best news ever; then again, who here could kill him?

For the second time that day, the sheriff came to the estate, and this time, he had a few deputies beside him. Since there was no way I was going back out again, I explained to him where they could find the dead body I stumbled upon.

“Do you know who it was?” he asked. It was a logical question.

“No, it was already too dark to see,” I explained.

“How do you know it’s a dead body then?” he challenged, a sneer on his lips.

I gave him a look. Is he fucking kidding me? “I just know, okay?” I snapped, not being able to prevent my irritation from seeping into my voice.

“That isn’t an acceptable answer, Mr. Wilson.”

“I tripped over the body, okay?” I practically shouted.

Sheriff Price finally gave me a nod, and then he and his men went outside, while the three of us remained inside the mansion. We didn’t talk at all as we waited for them to return. I started doubting myself as time passed by without them returning.

But then the ambulance appeared, and Sheriff Price returned with a glum expression on his face. I hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing, as it turned out. In those moments I was in equal parts relieved that I wasn’t crazy and horrified because, ultimately, there was a dead person on my property.

Another death. First Marianne, and now… I had no idea who, but someone equally dead.

“Who is it?” I asked the sheriff. Although I really didn’t want to ask, I knew I had to know.

“It’s Carlos Delgado,” Sheriff Price informed us, and it was obvious he said that with a heavy heart, although trying to remain professional.

The homeless guy? I was in shock. Then again, if I stopped to think about it, I would know that was the only logical answer. There were not many people living on this estate these days.

“How did he die?” Anna asked a very good question.

I was also curious to hear that. He was a homeless man after all. I was sure the options were endless: disease, malnutrition, food poisoning, bad hygiene…

“Well, that’s for the medical examiner to determine; however, there is blood leaking from his nose and ears. And he definitely suffered some kind of head trauma.”

I looked at my mother and Anna who were nodding at that, and it irked me. Was I the only one who wasn’t versed in such technical language? So, I asked.

“What does that mean?”

“Carlos sustained a wound at the back of his head,” the sheriff was kind enough to explain.

“Okay?” That cleared absolutely nothing to me.

“I suspect someone hit him.”

“He was murdered?” my mother asked.

Anna said, “Cameron,” looking at me.

I nodded; that had to be the only explanation. He found me.

“I cannot jump to any conclusions at this point, it’s too early in the investigation,” Sheriff Price said sternly.

I unquestionably could. “It’s Cameron. It has to be. He said he was coming for me, and here he is,” I insisted, frightened. I knew I’d felt him watching me, I thought with a shiver.

Is this how it’s going to be? Cameron, taking us out, one by one, as though we were clay doves, leaving me last, of course, because he wants me to suffer. He wanted me to know I was cornered, that there was nothing I could do to stop him. That was because I had these idiots protecting me. They couldn’t protect their own asses if they weren’t attached to them, I grumbled.

“That is certainly one of the possibilities,” Sheriff Price hedged.

This man was driving me insane. How could he not see the truth? Or maybe he was simply freaked out as well. He was a small-town cop after all. I was sure he never dealt with something like this before.

“Not a possibility, Sheriff, but a certainty,” my mother snapped angrily, startling me a little. She was so calm up until that moment that her outburst seemed out of place. Then again, there was a chance she had just pretended to be strong all this time, for my sake.

“We told you how dangerous this Cameron Blake is, and you didn’t listen. We warned you something like this might happen and still you did nothing. You only have yourself to blame for this man dying,” my mother chastised.

“Perhaps you had nothing to do with Marianne’s death; however, you could have prevented this one,” I added, adamantly.

“And now we are all in danger,” my mother concluded.

Sheriff Price looked shocked and irritated that my mother managed to put him back into his place.

“I’ll have one of the patrol cars sweep by regularly as long as you cooperate in this investigation,” Sheriff Price countered, clearly to save some face.

“Just sweep by? We should have one of your officers here, at all hours,” my mother rebelled.

“That is not possible, ma’am.” He seemed very displeased with the way this conversation was going, but I didn’t care. He needed to do his job.

“Then I don’t see why we have to help you in any way, if you don’t want to help us.”

“Of course, we will cooperate,” I interjected before this turned into a full-blown fight. No matter if I thought Sheriff Price was a useless idiot, we still needed him on our side, even if he didn’t like our family for some weird reason.

Although I agreed with my mother that it would be prudent to have someone watch over us twenty-four seven, it would be a hassle as well. Having police milling about would kill my chance of selling the property. Someone dying here will definitely screw with my plans, I’ll probably have to lower the asking price, or I’ll be stuck with it forever, I thought with dread.

If word got out about what was happening here, then no one would want to buy the estate, and then I would be stuck with it, and run into bankruptcy in a matter of months. I really couldn’t allow that.

I couldn’t allow Cameron to completely ruin my life. He already took Marianne from me; he couldn’t take this as well.

Unfortunately, for the time being, I would have to put my inconvenience to the side and deal with potential rumors later because there were more pressing issues at hand. And that was learning exactly what happened to Carlos, and catching Cameron. Naturally, that wouldn’t be my job, but the police’s.

And if I were to be honest with myself, I would feel better and sleep better knowing we enjoyed some kind of police protection. Cameron was a major threat, and I hoped he would think twice about coming to the estate knowing the police were milling about. Or at least, that was the hope.

He was obviously on a killing spree, and I knew there would be only one way to stop him; by killing him. I remembered Marianne had said something like that to me once, and I thought her over-dramatic. I could see now she was right. Cameron had to die, and my conscience was perfectly clear thinking that. He killed Marianne and tried to kill me, and Dean, and for that, he definitely deserved to share the same fate as his wife.

“I’m going to have to question each of you about Mr. Delgado’s death, and now that there have been two deaths connected to you, sir, I may have questions about Marianne Blake as well.”

I was taken aback. “You think I killed them?” My jaw dropped. “I loved Marianne, I’d never hurt her. And I hardly knew Carlos,” I said with exasperation.

He raised an eyebrow as he continued, “I have no idea if you killed them, or why, though I have a pretty good idea why you might have killed Mr. Delgado. You wanted him off your property⁠—”

“Well, yeah, wouldn’t you? Besides, I told him he could stay.”

“Excuse me?” Sheriff Price said, blinking at me.

At the same time, Mom and Anna both exclaimed, “What?”

“Look, I felt bad for him. I saw him in the cottage, and I told him I wanted him to leave, but that he could stay the night since he didn’t have any place to go. He did leave the next day, but I know he came back at night, but I didn’t say anything to him about it. I figured it was fine as long as he stayed out of sight. At least I thought it would be okay until I sold this place.”

Sheriff Price pursed his lips and took notes. “What about the two of you. Did you see Carlos around the estate?”

Anna shook her head. “No, and if I’d known he was still here, I’d have gone to a hotel. He threatened me with a sickle!”

Mom answered, “I didn’t see him either. I would have had words with the young man if I had, and he’d be off the property, I can assure you of that.”

The sheriff flipped his notebook closed and stared at me. “Don’t leave town.” His gaze traveled to Mom and Anna. “Any of you,” he added as he stood up and went out to speak to his men.

Once the sheriff and his deputies packed up and left, with the body of Carlos being transported to the morgue, Anna, my mom, and I continued to sit in the living room and discuss everything that had happened. My mind still refused to comprehend that all of this was actually happening.

This estate is cursed, I started to think, because only bad things had happened to me ever since I inherited it. And now I’m stuck with it.

“I can’t believe this; this is a nightmare,” I said, to no one in particular, simply thinking out loud. “I feel sorry for the guy. No matter my problems with him, he didn’t deserve to die.”

“That’s true,” Anna replied sadly.

“It is sad; however, I’m grateful,” my mother surprised me by saying.

“How can you say that?” I countered, quite taken aback by her statement.

“I can say it because it’s true. And you should be grateful as well that the poor man died instead of you.”

I was completely confused. “Mom, what are you talking about?”

“It is obvious; Cameron mistook Carlos for you, in the dark. You were the target, I am sure of that,” she insisted.

I was horrified, then again, what she said made sense, in an absolutely terrifying manner. Cameron wanted me dead; he had no beef with Carlos. So, it was safe to assume he was killed by accident. Oh my God. Poor crazy Carlos unintentionally saved my life.

“So, you do think Carlos looked like me,” I challenged my mother.

She waved with her hand dismissively. “Is that really the most important thing at the moment?” she challenged.

“What is the most important thing?” I countered.

“Getting rid of Cameron, of course.”

She made it sound so easy.

Another week passed as I lived in a perpetual state of worry, seeing Cameron in every shadow. I couldn’t say if it was a blessing or a curse that no one spotted him around the estate.

And then the sheriff called. I foolishly hoped he was calling to let me know he had Cameron in his custody or, better yet, to tell me that bastard was dead. Unfortunately, he didn’t call to share such news with me, but to give me the Cliff Notes on what the coroner had to say about Carlos’s death.

As it turned out, he didn’t die of that blunt force trauma to the head as Sheriff Price had suspected. That occurred when he fainted and hit his head on a sharp rock as he went down. The actual cause of death was something else entirely. He died of an overdose.

“So, it was an accident?” I asked, not even bothering to hide how happy I would be by that turn of events. Because if Carlos offed himself by accident, then that meant Cameron wasn’t after me.

“It definitely seems that way. Carlos’s toxicology report showed he took a large amount of heroin, which was laced with strychnine, all the same, it was what caused an overdose,” Sheriff Price explained, sounding sad, and once again I had to wonder why he really cared about some junkie homeless guy.

I truly felt like jumping for joy right here in my uncle’s study. I’d had no idea Carlos was a junkie; then again, it made sense. Given he was unhinged and homeless, it was safe to assume he had other demons as well.

And then I realized something else. I had been worried for nothing. I frowned, resenting Sheriff Price for not sharing this with me sooner.

Then again, what if they are wrong? I had a moment of doubt. It wouldn’t be the first time. And the police had absolutely shown how incompetent they were so far. Carlos dying still could be Cameron’s doing, which meant I still couldn’t let my guard down. After all, he’d poisoned Marianne, so why not poison Carlos too? The fact he’d have to have laced Carlos’s heroin did give me pause for a moment, but Cameron was former military. Who knew what kind of things he’d learned to do? He probably knew exactly how to set this up to look like Carlos did it to himself. Of course, he had to have thought he was doing this to me, and I’d never used heroin before, but that probably wouldn’t stop Cameron. I had to bet that he’d do anything to make me look bad, and what could be worse than making me look like a junkie on top of everything else he’d done to me?

Fuck, fuck, I cursed, exasperated as I stared out the window. I needed to figure this out. I could still feel eyes on me. I quickly pulled the curtains, shutting out the sunlight and possible prying eyes. “Any news about Cameron?” I asked next.

“Nothing still.” His words were practically bit out, as though he was irritated at me for asking.

Why am I not surprised? “Thank you for the update, Sheriff.”

I couldn’t stop frowning, hanging up. This was a complete shit show. I headed into the living room and flopped down on the sofa, my mind a whirlwind of anxiety.

“Is Anna here?” Mom asked as she entered the room, two plates in her hand.

I glanced up and shrugged. “No idea. She said something about checking on the bakery.” I didn’t know why she’d need to do that so often, but it seemed like nearly every day she was driving off somewhere claiming she was checking on the bakery or meeting Audrina for coffee. Honestly, I didn’t care. She wasn’t nagging me when she wasn’t here. And it wasn’t like Cameron was after her, so she didn’t feel the need to hide like I did. I frowned as I glanced out the window again, looking for him.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Mom asked, handing me a plate of food.

“Nothing good,” I commented before proceeding to tell Mom about my conversation with the sheriff as I looked over my shoulder at the window that faced the front of the property again. It seemed like no matter where I was in this place, I felt as though I was being watched. I wondered if I was becoming paranoid. Maybe I was going crazy like Carlos was. That was an even scarier thought because he had been delusional.

“So they believe it was an accident?” Mom asked as she sat down in one of the plush chairs.

I picked up my fork, as I said, “Yes, but what if it’s not?”

“What do you mean, dear? They would know, wouldn’t they? They are the experts at this sort of thing.”

I frowned and set my fork back down without eating. “What if Cameron just made it look that way?”

Mom considered my words. “I suppose that is possible.”

“It’s just so frustrating. These cops aren’t very useful. I mean how hard is it to catch one man?” I fumed, thinking that if they would just catch Cameron, I could stop worrying and stressing about him.

“Calm down,” she replied, patting my hand. “Nothing can be accomplished stressing.”

I took a deep breath and picked my fork up again. “You’re right.” Of course, she was right. It was just that I couldn’t continue living in such a mess. I definitely had a dream that turned into a fucking nightmare. I glanced down at my plate. I wasn’t very hungry, but Mom had gone to the trouble to cook it, so I figured I’d better eat. I took several bites before realizing she’d gone quiet.

Mom was looking away, clearly lost in thought. The expression on her face was troubled, though, and I got curious about it.

“Mom, what’s the matter?” I asked, suddenly concerned. “Where did you go just now?” Whatever was on her mind wasn’t pleasing, that much I could tell.

“Oh, nothing, dear.” She patted my hand. “All this has made me remember how your father died. He too had problems with heroin, which went quite nicely with his alcoholism.” She snorted and sounded almost sarcastic, which was unusual.

I was quite taken aback by that admission.

My father used heroin? “You never told me that before.” There was no accusation in my tone, simply surprise.

She shrugged. “Why talk ill of him? He’s equally dead all the same.”

That’s true, I agreed, glancing at the window again. I could swear I saw movement out there, but as I stared, nothing moved. I refocused on the conversation. “So why did Carlos’s dying make you think of Dad?” I asked, curiously, as I finished eating.

“I was thinking how it’s easy for someone to overdose. People consumed by their vice cannot help themselves and take more each time.”

She sounded like she spoke from experience. Living with my dad must have been an even bigger nightmare than I thought. That made me more in awe of my mother than ever before.

It also made me wonder something. Was this Mom’s subtle way of telling me my dad hadn’t actually died of a heart attack as she told the family? Was it possible my father overdosed as well? Do I care? My fork dropped to my plate with a clatter.

As she said, it didn’t matter; all the same, he was dead, and he definitely deserved it, being the man that he was. Unlike poor Carlos. He couldn’t help being crazy.

I hope you find peace, my man, I prayed with another glance out the window.

“Come on, let’s talk about something else,” Mom urged, changing the subject.

I nodded. “Yes, let’s,” I agreed, but I couldn’t help it when my gaze continued to wander toward the window as I wondered if Cameron was out there somewhere watching us.

TWENTY-SIX

PAUL

I was surprised when the sheriff called, again, the very next day.

“Sheriff, what a nice surprise. Did you find Cameron?” I jibed, answering the phone and not being able to help myself.

“No, but I have new information regarding Carlos,” he informed, sounding as though he found talking to me distasteful.

I frowned. What new information could possibly come to light? He was a homeless man who overdosed, case closed.

“Really?” I asked all the same.

“While we were looking for his relatives, we ran his fingerprints and dental through our database.”

What’s with the long buildup? As if I really cared how he discovered something. I was sure he was mentioning all this so I would be impressed. I wasn’t.

“The coroner did a DNA test as well, just in case, and we got a match.”

“Okay?” I replied, not sure what was expected of me at the moment. Or why he was speaking to me in the first place.

Perhaps he found out Carlos had no one and wanted me to pay for the funeral, I realized.

“He is unquestionably part of the Mason family.” His words came out like bullets.

That made me pay attention because that was my father’s family name. Mom and I started using her maiden name once she became a widow, considering she didn’t want anything tying her to that monster, but I was definitely a Mason too.

“Excuse me?” I heard myself ask. “What do you mean he’s a Mason? How?”

“Your father’s DNA was on file from when he had a violent outburst prior to his death. Not to mention your uncle’s from the few times we had to rule him out of various inquiries,” Sheriff Price said, his voice sharp as a blade.

I had completely suppressed the fact I lived here as a small child. Not at this estate but nearby. What violent outburst of my father’s? What did my father do? Then again, do I really want to know? Do I care? And what inquiries had Uncle been involved in? Was this why the sheriff didn’t like us?

“And it’s definitely a familial match with Carlos.”

That snapped me back from my thoughts. “What do you mean it’s a match? Carlos was my father’s son? Are you saying he was my brother?” I asked incredulously. That sounded so insane to me that I felt ridiculous asking something like that out loud.

“No. I’m sorry, you misunderstood me. He’s not a direct match to you, but a cousin,” Sheriff Price corrected. “James Mason was his real father, and from what Carlos had said, James had even acknowledged him shortly before his death, which was why he was living on the property. It’s just a shame he never changed his will.”

I had to sit down because that was definitely a lot to take in. Carlos was my cousin. Oh my God, that homeless lunatic was actually related to me.

James had an illegitimate child, a lunatic homeless man.

On one hand, I wondered why he didn’t recognize him publicly; on the other, now it made sense Carlos was hanging around. He clearly knew James was his father. Oh my God, his ramblings about him being home made perfect sense. Had Uncle James been ashamed of Carlos? Was that why he didn’t change the will?

All that and more passed through my head in a second.

“Mr. Wilson, are you there?” Sheriff Price asked, since I remained silent.

“I am. It’s just that I’m a little shocked by this revelation. This is the first time I have heard this.” I was sure my mother didn’t know anything about it either; she would have shared it with me.

“Death has a tendency to air all family secrets,” Sheriff Price said, sounding almost gleeful about this coming out. “Are you sure you didn’t know he was related to you? He did have an uncanny resemblance to you.”

I was sure he didn’t come up with a statement such as that on his own. He definitely had to have read it someplace, then used it to try and appear smart. And that question. He had some nerve. All the same, I said, “I suppose that is true, Sheriff; however, to answer your question, no, I had no idea Uncle James had a son. And they do say that everyone has a double out there somewhere. I guess Carlos was mine.”

“What about your mother? Did she know?”

“I doubt that she did, Sheriff. We didn’t really have much to do with Uncle James after we moved to the city. He was my dad’s brother, so Mom didn’t see a reason to bring us to visit him after Dad died.”

“And you don’t recall Carlos being on the estate when you were younger? Maybe when you visited before your dad passed away?”

I thought about it for a moment. “No, there weren’t any kids on the estate when I came here as a child. I was the only one here.”

“You’re sure?” He sounded skeptical.

“Of course I’m sure. I think I would have noticed if there was a kid who looked like me running around playing with me,” I scoffed.

We didn’t speak much after that. What more was there to say? Uncle James had a son. My head was still reeling. Oh my God. That was a huge bombshell. And although I knew this knowledge didn’t change anything now, considering Carlos was dead, it still felt like it did. He was my blood, living just across the estate, and I had no clue.

Naturally, after hanging up with the sheriff, I went in search of my mother to let her know what I had discovered about Carlos.

I was sure all families had their fair share of secrets, as Sheriff Price suggested, all the same, this was huge by any standard. It never occurred to me that my quirky old uncle was keeping something this massive from the rest of the family. Then again, that also showed that you could never really know a person, no matter how close.

I found her in the garden. She was drinking some tea underneath a tree. I supposed if Carlos hadn’t died recently out here, it would be a nice day to be outside.

“Paul, come join me, it’s such a beautiful day,” she said with a smile.

“I don’t know how beautiful it is, Mom, considering someone just died out here.” I frowned at her.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Paul. He could have died anywhere. And it wasn’t right here, it was entirely on another section of the property.”

Sighing, I sat down next to her. “Mom, I have to tell you something.”

“What is it, dear?”

“Uncle James had a son,” I blurted out.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, sobering up.

“I just spoke with the sheriff. They discovered that Carlos Delgado was Uncle James’s son.”

“That’s nonsense,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“It’s not. They did a DNA test and everything. Can you believe it?” I asked, not being able to hide excitement, shock, and outrage from my tone.

Mom said nothing in return. I had no idea how to interpret her silence. Was she as shocked as I was minutes ago, or did this mean something else? Was it possible she knew and kept it a secret from me?

My mother was always honest with me, so I couldn’t even imagine her keeping something so huge, so monumental from me.

“Did you know about it?” I wondered. “Was there even a rumor about the fact Uncle James had a child?”

“Of course not,” my mother was adamant. “I knew nothing about this so-called son,” she added, in disgust, clearly picturing Carlos in front of her, all raggedy looking, dirty, smelly, and, quite frankly, insane. It was quite impossible to imagine someone like Uncle had such a pitiful son.

“Then again, I’m not that surprised,” she added as an afterthought.

“What do you mean?” I asked, sitting beside her. Finally, she was prepared to share some dirt on Uncle James. I couldn’t explain why, but I was fascinated by all of it. No wonder Anna insisted that some homeless man looked like me. It was because we were related.

“He was always a ladies’ man, liked to surround himself with beautiful women.”

Who didn’t love that?

“And that didn’t change even after marriage.”

Naturally, that was my mother’s polite way of saying that Uncle James was a player. I completely understood him. At times, men had needs outside of the marriage. And I could never understand why women made such a big fuss about it. At least nowadays. A couple of hundred years ago it was perfectly normal, and understandable even, if a man had someone on the side, and nobody said anything about it.

I was born in the wrong age. It would be heaven to hang out with true bohemians of the past. That would be living.

“And let me guess, Auntie found out about his shenanigans,” I guessed, fully knowing where this was going.

“She left him quite suddenly, although I never learned why. James was always very tight-lipped about the whole thing, and she left the country, and returned to England,” Mom shared.

That didn’t feel fair to me. How could she blame a guy for something that wasn’t his fault? Cheating is in our nature. We are not designed to be faithful to only one woman all our lives. I’d seen articles about it.

“Now I wonder if she learned about the affair and the baby,” she added.

I nodded at that because it made perfect sense. “She must have, and left.”

It went without saying this only proved my previous stance. Children always ruin everything, planned or not.

Uncle would be happily married if that other woman hadn’t become pregnant. It always astounded me, how someone could be so careless. Didn’t they know about birth control? Perhaps she did it on purpose to tie my uncle to herself, I hypothesized.

Although it didn’t matter now since both Uncle James and Carlos were dead, it still bothered me. “Carlos was the true owner of the estate,” I said to Mom.

And I really couldn’t decide how I felt about it. Lucky? Normally I would, but a lot of drama had happened since Uncle James died, not to mention Cameron. It felt like the estate was overrun with death. That was a lot to deal with. And knowing that I had all this wealth at my disposal didn’t help me feel better one bit.

“I shouldn’t be here.” Maybe Carlos would be alive if it had been discovered earlier that he was my uncle’s son.

Mother scoffed at that. “Having that thought is completely useless now. Besides, better you than him.”

“Mom, how can you say that?”

“I can because it’s true. Carlos was an addict with mental problems. He would just squander it all. You, on the other hand, will have a brighter future thanks to it all,” she pointed out. “Your children will have security because of it.”

To be perfectly honest, it was a good point. Not the children part. I wasn’t going to have any, ever, but about the rest. I would appreciate it all better than Carlos ever could.

All the same, her pragmatism and almost lack of empathy surprised me. “He was family,” I insisted.

“Yes, yes, and we will pay for his burial like we would for any other family member,” my mother agreed, somewhat impatiently. “And with that done, we will let your uncle’s dirty little secret be buried with his son. He preferred it that way, apparently.”

Was that true? I had to wonder. Evidence unquestionably suggested that, because if he wanted any kind of relationship with his son, he would definitely have recognized it.

I nodded at my mom’s words, although I still had a few doubts.

I couldn’t shake this strange feeling that I was missing something, some vital pieces of information that could shed light on all the dark spots that remained in this strange story.

Who was Carlos’s mother? Where was she? How did Uncle James meet her, and why wasn’t he with her? Does she know her son died; does she care?

Naturally, that disturbed me the most considering I was very close with my mother. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. So, it must have been really hard on Carlos to be all alone in this world. I pitied him now even more than before.

Maybe that was why he decided to kill himself because he had no reason to live. I shook from that macabre thought.

Unfortunately, my mind would not put this to rest. What if this is all wrong? I had a moment of doubt. What if Carlos didn’t leave this world voluntarily? What if Cameron killed him because he thought Carlos was me, just like Mom suggested the other day?

It occurred to me that while it was a far cleaner solution that Carlos killed himself, I couldn’t rule the other option out.

And not knowing for sure what happened was frustrating, as I had no idea how to proceed in the future.

Should I still be afraid of Cameron, watch my every step? Or could I finally take a deep breath and enjoy life?

As Mom said, it would be wasteful not to feel blessed, and enjoy life to the fullest, considering the fortunate opportunity given to me.

Sadly, for that to happen, I would have to deal with Cameron first.

Fuck…

TWENTY-SEVEN

ANNA

Something that should have been so simple, sell the estate, leave Paul, turned out to be quite Sisyphean, a complete nightmare.

It was just one thing after the other, a shitstorm of obstacles, and problems, and it went without saying I was honestly at the end of my rope.

Part of me certainly wanted to say, fuck it all, I’m done, pack up and return home. The rest of me knew I had come way too far to quit now. I had to see this through no matter what.

I called Thornton because I was extremely worried after Carlos’s death. I had no idea how that man died, or why. Were the police right in their assessment that it was an overdose accident? Or was Paul right when insisting Cameron killed Carlos because he mistook one for the other?

I had no idea, I was very confused by the whole thing, and that didn’t sit well with me. I had a theory of my own, though. Ever since I heard who Carlos really was, as in James’s son, after he died, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Paul had something to do with it.

Before coming to the estate, I would never have suspected him of something so duplicitous. However, after a few short weeks in this house, I’d come to see that we were all capable of all kinds of things. It all depended on the right motivation.

And if Paul knew about Carlos beforehand or maybe just suspected it, then that could change everything. He could have killed Carlos to make sure he was the sole heir of the estate.

His motive was pretty obvious: protecting his best interests. I could imagine that when it came to money and the kind of lifestyle Paul thought he should be living, that he’d do just about anything to achieve it.

If Carlos knew, even in his crazy state, he was the rightful heir, and would actually try to do something about it, then I could completely understand why Paul might have used Carlos’s addiction against him, helped him overdose, so he couldn’t threaten his future anymore. Or rather, the future Paul envisioned for himself and Marianne.

Of course, Marianne was gone already when Carlos died, so maybe it was just the future he envisioned for himself. He’d made numerous comments about what he was going to do with all the money from the estate, as if it was all his. I rolled my eyes at that thought. I had a brief worry that if Paul actually did kill Carlos to get full control of the estate, what might he do to me if I divorced him and took half. That thought had me on my guard. I wasn’t going to let him kill me. I’d just have to be vigilant, and besides, I knew Paul pretty well. It was one thing to kill someone he didn’t really know, but we’d been together for years.

Thinking about it, I was probably wrong in that theory. Paul didn’t exactly have it in him to kill anyone. Not personally anyway. He might hire someone to do it for him, but he had to have money for that to happen, and he didn’t have any yet. Did hitmen work on IOUs? I doubted it.

The most likely scenario was that Cameron killed Carlos thinking he was Paul. That had to be what happened, right? It made the most sense. And, no matter how horrible it sounded, I was glad Carlos was out of the picture. He was a major nuisance even before we discovered he was the true heir of the estate.

Because if Paul’s inheritance was threatened, then my share was threatened as well, and that was something I couldn’t allow. I had come way too far to quit now. I’m not sure what I would have done if Carlos had managed to contest the will. I was just really glad I didn’t have to worry about that now that he was dead. I was just concerned that when Cameron found out Paul was still alive, he’d be back and try to kill him, and maybe me along with him.

That was precisely why I called Thornton and asked him to help out with everything that was happening. And once he heard the whole story, he was more than happy to assist.

“I miss you,” he murmured, huskily.

My heart beat a little faster, and I felt a flutter of excitement in my stomach. “I know. I miss you too. Seeing you briefly for lunches and secret make-out sessions aren’t enough, but⁠—”

“I know, sweetheart. We need to wait until your divorce goes through before doing that again. We shouldn’t have indulged ourselves, but you should know that as soon as it’s done, we’re going to have a lot of sexy-time to make up for.”

“I am looking forward to it.” I grinned. I couldn’t wait to be with him again. We needed to hurry up and get this place sold. I was tired of waiting. Tired of this pretense, but getting my share of this place was important too, and Thornton understood that. “At least I’ll be able to see you more since you’ll be coming here.”

“I’ll try not to bash his face in for how he’s treated you,” he said with a chuckle.

I shook my head at his words. I knew he was joking, but I wasn’t particularly looking forward to Thornton and Paul confronting one another. Then again, I’d run out of options, so it had to happen. Besides, I was sure Paul wouldn’t suspect I’d been with Thornton, or that we’d sort of begun a relationship, though it was currently on hold for the most part. Paul was convinced no woman would ever want to cheat on him. He would only be irritated that I hired a private investigator behind his back.

“See you soon?” I questioned.

“I’ll be there, sweetheart. It will all be fine, I promise,” he said before hanging up.

I decided to say nothing to Paul beforehand, knowing his hissy fit would be at a bare minimum in front of an unknown man. All the same, he knew something was up when I received another call from Thornton telling me he had reached the front gates. I opened the gate for him, then went outside to wait for him and greet him.

As expected, Paul followed after me.

“Was that the sheriff calling you? Is he coming over?” he asked, clearly curious.

“No, a friend is coming to help us,” I replied simply.

There was no time for further conversation. Thornton parked before us, and in the next instant, he got out of the car. Every time I saw him, his handsomeness sent the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. I had a sudden urge to kiss him, but I thought that wouldn’t be prudent in front of Paul.

“Thank you for coming,” I replied instead, giving him a secretive smile.

“No problem,” Thornton replied with a small smirk.

Paul stood close by, perfectly impersonating the third wheel. But he quickly recovered. “Anna, are you going to introduce me to your friend,” he said.

Did he really mean that, or was he simply taunting? I had to wonder.

“This is Thornton Pierce, and he’s here to help us,” I introduced, deciding to ignore Paul’s curiosity.

Thornton and I had only slept together one time. It had happened after Cameron set Paul’s car on fire. Afterward, we both agreed that nothing like that could happen again while I was still married, no matter how much we wanted to. Instead, we talked a lot, met for lunch, and shared a few stolen kisses as we waited for me to file those divorce papers. I was thrilled that Thornton completely understood why I was waiting, and that he was willing to wait as long as he needed so we could be together for real.

If Paul could have his girlfriends all over the place, then I was allowed to have Thornton, end of story. While they shook hands, I could see some kind of recognition sparked in Paul’s mind. His next words confirmed as much.

“Hey, I know you. You called the cops that day when Cameron tried to kill me.”

I suppressed a groan. It was too much to expect Paul wouldn’t recognize the guy who saved his life. Not even he was that self-centered, unfortunately.

“Yes,” Thornton agreed. “I also work as a private investigator,” he explained.

Paul frowned. “How do you two…” he started, pointing his finger between the two of us, but then clearly managed to put the pieces together on his own. “You hired a fucking PI!” he accused, instantly getting upset.

“We need to know what is going on around the estate,” I pointed out, playing dumb.

“I’m not talking about this, and you know it,” he called me out.

“Yes,” I confessed, seeing no reason to deny it. “I hired Thornton back in New York, and that’s how I knew about you cheating. And before you throw a tantrum, just remember that you were the one cheating on me, and Thornton over here saved your life, like he’s going to save it again, by catching Cameron,” I pointed out.

I knew him too well, so I really had to nip this in the bud.

Paul crossed his arms over his chest. Apparently he wasn’t prepared to move on from this moment. “If you knew all this time, and said nothing, does that mean you’ve decided to forgive me?”

I could only stare at him for a few heartbeats. Only Paul could utter something so stupid and actually sound hopeful while doing it. He was despicable. His mistress just died, yet here he was, trying to weasel his way back into my bed. Disgusting.

I glanced at Thornton, and he looked amused by our exchange. I was glad at least one of us was finding this funny.

“No, that doesn’t mean I’ve decided to forgive you,” I replied honestly.

“I don’t understand,” Paul replied, confused.

I sighed and glanced around to make sure Noreen wasn’t anywhere nearby before I spoke. Luckily, she was inside. I stared at Paul. “We will definitely be going through with that divorce at some point,” and I will get everything thanks to all the evidence Thornton gathered, I added to myself. “Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean I want anything to happen to you or your mother,” I explained.

It was strange, however, that I didn’t feel weird that we were airing our dirty laundry, so to speak, in front of Thornton. Then again, it wasn’t like he was oblivious to the state of my marriage.

Paul took a moment to process that, then nodded. “So, what’s the plan?” he asked Thornton.

“I’m here to help any way you see fit,” he replied simply.

“I suggested that Thornton look into Carlos’s death and help the police with finding Cameron. I think we will all sleep a lot better knowing that monster is in prison.”

Paul nodded again, clearly liking what I was saying. Of course, he did. It was in his best interest that Cameron was caught.

“And you are willing to help us with this problem?” Paul asked Thornton.

“Of course, anything for Anna,” Thornton immediately reassured him, and I awarded him with a smile. It couldn’t be helped. He was a wonderful man, a caring man, and he showed that to me every single day.

And I couldn’t care less if Paul noticed something was going on between me and Thornton.

It was obvious Paul was a bit taken aback by Thornton’s words, and he glanced at me, suspicion in his eyes, clearly speculating something. I raised my chin up, letting him come to any conclusions he liked.

It was good knowing there was at least one person out there, one man, who believed I was worth the effort, and all the wait.

“All right,” Paul agreed eventually. “And since Anna contacted you, she will take care of your bill as well,” he added as an afterthought.

I wanted to roll my eyes at that. I expected nothing less from such a cheap bastard. Naturally, I had already spoken about it with Thornton, and he refused to be compensated in any way for this because, as he said, he was doing this for me because he wanted to make sure I was safe.

With all that settled, we went inside, sat in the living room, and started going over everything we knew so far, which wasn’t that much.

Noreen still wasn’t present, and I was glad. I knew Paul was always easier to handle if his mother wasn’t around. Luckily, he didn’t cause any problems. Even he realized that this was what had to be done considering the police were not efficient enough.

About an hour later, Thornton left to go to work. He said he would visit the sheriff’s office first before doing anything else, and that sounded like a good idea to me. He had to have a starting point after all.

In all the hassle, I didn’t get a chance to tell him how good it was to see him. I had missed him. So, I texted him. I also thanked him once again for helping us out, of course.

Thornton: Don’t worry, sweetness xx I will make sure you are safe and that you get everything you deserve.

His words filled my heart with joy.

TWENTY-EIGHT

PAUL

I definitely started looking at Anna differently ever since learning about Thornton. I couldn’t believe she had some sketchy guy tailing me.

That was pretty sneaky of her. She pretended all was well while behind my back she’d hired a professional to gather proof I’d cheated on her.

To be frank, I was very disappointed she’d stooped so low. She shouldn’t be concerned with what I was doing when I wasn’t home with her. Unfortunately, like a lot of women this day and age, she thought she could have whatever she wanted with no effort on her part. She wanted a happy marriage but refused to listen to me and even let herself have fun and let go of control. Modern feminism had brainwashed her completely.

And although Thornton saved my life, it didn’t mean I was any less angry with her. She betrayed me and our marriage, and that was something I couldn’t easily forget or forgive.

And what did she mean by – We will definitely be going through with that divorce at some point? Why was she still threatening me with it? Marianne was dead after all, so she really didn’t have to feel threatened anymore.

We spent a pretty awkward afternoon together ignoring the elephant in the room. Not the PI, but our imminent financial problems, since there was no way that we could sell the estate while all this was going on, but at the same time, we couldn’t afford to keep it. And if we didn’t hurry up and solve all of this, we’d be left with nothing.

Even if Anna returned to work tomorrow and worked overtime, we’d be pretty doomed. Not that she would, even if I asked. There was something very strange going on with her. That much was apparent.

And I couldn’t, no make that wouldn’t, return to mine because of Cameron lurking. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s camped out at my work. Besides, I hated that place with a burning passion. They were slowly destroying my creativity, snuffing my originality, and I detested working for those money-hungry capitalists.

And then that PI called Anna, to share some news with her.

Seeing them interact the other day, I got the feeling something was going on between the two. Or, more accurately put, it was obvious he had the hots for her.

Did she let him fuck her? I had a sudden thought. He definitely wouldn’t help us out of the goodness of his heart. I knew men like him and what motivated them. He definitely got something or was at least promised something in the future.

“Put him on the speakerphone. I want to hear what he has to say,” I told Anna, wanting to snuff any romantic notions from that PI’s head. She was married after all, and I wouldn’t tolerate someone sniffing around my wife.

Anna did what she was told.

“Thornton, I’ve put you on speakerphone, so could you please repeat the last one,” she informed him.

“As I was saying, I got a hold of a copy of the coroner’s report for Carlos Delgado.”

That was fast, I thought.

“And?” Anna urged, clearly impatient, yet for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why. Whether he killed himself or someone else killed him would have zero impact on her life.

Mine, however, was an entirely different story.

“There’s something unusual about Carlos’s blood.”

What’s that supposed to mean? I wondered.

Luckily, Anna asked the very same thing.

“I was a New York City cop for a decade, and this doesn’t seem like a mere overdose to me.”

I feared he might say something like that.

“Considering everything, I suspect it’s more likely he was given the excessive amount of heroin laced with some other toxin; the coroner didn’t do any additional tests to determine what it was, so death would have been intentional not an accidental one,” he explained.

Anna didn’t look surprised hearing that, I noted. Did she know something I didn’t?

“I also bribed one of the clerks who told me the sheriff’s department is trying to close the case as soon as possible and declare it an overdose.”

That works in our favor, I thought cheerfully. It would be easier to sell the estate with the story that some homeless junkie died of an overdose while roaming about than that he was murdered.

“Anything else?” Anna asked, snapping me from my thoughts.

“Based on the evidence the police gathered, I’m pretty sure we can eliminate Cameron as a potential suspect.”

That shocked me. “Why would you say that?” I had to ask.

“Because poisoning someone with bad heroin doesn’t fit his MO. Due to his violent temper, he’s more prone to beat someone to death.”

“Or hit him with a car, then set him on fire,” I added glumly.

“Exactly,” Thornton agreed.

“So, do we have two killers on our hands?” Anna asked while looking at me.

Why was she looking at me? Does she think I killed Carlos? I speculated. That was outrageous. Then again, perhaps she was acting, so I wouldn’t suspect she had something to do with it. I immediately banished that. As cold-hearted as she could be, Anna wasn’t capable of harming anyone. I remembered how she reacted during her first encounter with Carlos. She was petrified by fear, which meant she had no killer instinct. It was ridiculous that I’d even said she could have killed Marianne to the sheriff. I’d just been so upset about it and lashed out at her.

“I really don’t think so. It’s more likely he simply got a bad batch from his dealer.”

“Excuse me, but I’m a bit confused now. You said minutes ago it was no accident, but now you are saying it’s an accident?” I challenged.

“Carlos did OD; however, it was due to bad drugs. That is considered murder by law.”

I suppressed an eye roll. That was some technical bullshit. And no matter what he said, I wasn’t prepared to write Cameron off from my list of suspects. He was highly dangerous, and there was no telling what he was prepared to do to get to me. And I was sure Mom would agree with me. And then a thought struck me.

“You know, I just remembered something; Marianne once told me how Cameron used to sneak drugs into her food or drinks so she would stay home sick with him instead of going to work,” I shared.

Anna made a face at that; she was clearly still jealous of Marianne. I couldn’t care about her silly feelings at the moment. It was imperative Cameron was caught and punished for everything he did.

He was a sick, controlling bastard, and I wished only the worst for him because, in the end, tormenting Marianne wasn’t enough, he had to kill her as well.

Sick bastard, I fumed, getting riled up all over again as Mom quietly entered the room and sat beside Anna.

“That certainly changes things,” Thornton allowed.

I was pleased because Cameron deserved to be the number one suspect.

“I will certainly continue digging all the same.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, because I know that Cameron killed Carlos,” I replied honestly.

“Why do you think that? Is there something you haven’t shared with me?” Thornton asked, playing devil’s advocate, even though he agreed with me mere seconds ago. He actually sounded like a cop then, even though he wasn’t. Just a jumped-up PI.

I wondered why he stopped being a cop in the first place. Was he dirty?

“Mom thinks Carlos died because he looked like me, and I agree with her.”

“He did have a similar look about him, especially in the eyes,” Mom murmured.

“There is a slight resemblance,” Thornton agreed.

I nodded although he couldn’t see me.

That resemblance now made perfect sense. We were cousins after all. But way back, when Anna pointed that out, I took it as an offense and nothing else. Although I was sure she didn’t mean it as a compliment either.

“It was also getting dark out, and there were no lights around the estate. It could be easy to mistake one person for another who is similarly built in such circumstances,” I thought out loud.

“That would make perfect sense if Carlos was beaten to death, or killed with a gun,” Thornton pointed out. “An overdose with toxic drugs involves some pre-planning.”

“And why would anyone drug you when you don’t take drugs,” Anna added, clearly deciding to side with Thornton, which I found suspicious.

“I don’t care what you say, I still firmly believe it’s Cameron,” I said somewhat stubbornly. However, my stubbornness wasn’t without reason. My gut was telling me Cameron was playing with me. He wanted to kill the people around me, to freak me out, to drive me crazy. Naturally, I didn’t share that with the group because then they would think I was actually crazy. I couldn’t stand the thought of Anna calling me paranoid.

“Unfortunately, my son is seeing the bogeyman everywhere instead of accepting that an accident is merely an accident,” my mother joined in, making me frown.

I really thought she would be on my side.

When I first told her how Anna brought a PI in to help us, she was firmly against the idea, saying she didn’t like the thought of some stranger poking around our lives. And then, after some thought, she had a change of heart.

Anna nodded at my mother’s words. “He has a tendency to overreact at times,” she added.

I scoffed. “I don’t think I’m overreacting thinking that a man who tried to burn me alive is dangerous,” I snapped in return. I couldn’t decide if they were simply callous or making fun of me. I didn’t like it one bit either way.

“You’re right, Paul. Cameron is not a stable man, so anything is possible,” my mother said, clearly trying to soften the blow from her previous statement.

“I’ll explore all options just to be on the safe side,” Thornton assured.

That was all I was asking. Considering Cameron drugged Marianne in the past, not to mention he killed her by poisoning, I really didn’t think it was such a huge stretch to assume he might want to do something like that to me as well. Perhaps heroin was an odd choice; then again, so was death by camphor, and that didn’t stop him from using it on Marianne.

I made sure to point that out as well because it seemed like they all had amnesia about how she had died.

“Maybe killing Carlos was no accident,” Anna said at some point.

“What do you mean?” Thornton asked.

“Well, it’s clear Cameron doesn’t need much, trigger-wise, to act. Perhaps Carlos said the wrong thing, defended his territory and Cameron acted.”

“There is also a chance Carlos was killed because he was a witness,” my mom decided to throw a theory into the mix as well. “If he saw Cameron milling about and wanted to say something…” She left the sentence hanging, but we all understood her meaning.

It was possible Cameron took out a witness, so nobody would be the wiser he was on the estate, preparing something nasty to do. I had to admit, that thought left me feeling pretty uneasy.

“Either way, we should be glad he is out of the way and won’t be contesting the will,” my mother said matter-of-factly.

“Mom,” I snapped in return, shocked by her callous comment. We definitely should not feel glad another human being died. No amount of money was worth it.

Are you sure? He was an addict with mental problems; perhaps it was an act of mercy, I pointed out to myself.

All the same, even if that was true, Mom unquestionably shouldn’t have said something like that out loud. And especially not in front of a PI. I didn’t want him to come to the wrong conclusions.

“What?” My mother looked bemused.

“That’s not a nice thing to say.”

She shrugged. “I won’t apologize for speaking the truth.”

I had nothing to say to that.

“Does anyone have anything else to add?” Thornton asked, clearly wanting to break the awkward silence that was starting to build.

We looked at one another, remaining silent. Apparently, we’d said all that we had to say. Once we wrapped our conversation with Thornton, Anna excused herself and went to her room.

I decided to follow suit and returned to my room as well. Although I felt restless and hated this situation, which felt like house arrest, I knew I had no choice but to stay put. I longed to hit a few bars with Dean and meet some interesting ladies…

I really hoped Thornton would find Cameron soon, so we could put all this nasty business, all this death, behind us, and I could finally resume living.

My thoughts turned to Marianne, and how much I missed her. Her kisses, her touch. The way she laughed and was always full of joy and sass. I missed the way she held me, the way she wanted me. She was always up for a good time and was playful and sexy. I missed everything about being with her, and I wished I could be with her once more.

TWENTY-NINE

ANNA

I woke up from sleep feeling sick once again. I held my stomach, as though that could prevent how nauseated I felt, while I rushed to the bathroom. Once again, I barely managed to arrive in time before I started puking my guts out.

What is wrong with me? I asked myself as I hugged the toilet bowl.

It had been a while since I had the stomach flu; then again, this didn’t feel like anything I had in the past. This was the second week in a row that I had woken up from sleep feeling like this, having the urge to throw up.

Naturally, when a woman threw up every day for a substantial amount of time only one thing came to mind.

Am I pregnant? I wondered. Either that or I’m being poisoned, I added glumly. I did a quick math review inside my head, to see if my period was late. It was.

Fuck.

I couldn’t be pregnant. My stomach churned. Not when I wasn’t so sure who the father was.

I don’t want to be pregnant with Paul’s kid, I whined, not that it would solve anything, or make me feel better. But it was true. I did not want to have a kid with Paul. Not now, not ever. It would be a cruel twist of fate if I was pregnant now. I’d spent so many years of our marriage praying that Paul would come round to the idea of children, only for this child to come at the worst possible time. I’d always thought discovering I might be pregnant would be the happiest day of my life. Paul stole that from me. It wasn’t fair.

Life really has a strange sense of humor, I thought glumly.

But if I am, then who is the father? I wondered.

The last time Paul and I had sex was about six weeks ago. And I slept with Thornton sometime after that, so it was very hard to determine who the lucky guy was.

I prayed that Thornton was the child’s actual father and not Paul. I couldn’t imagine being tied to him through actual DNA. The idea of that made me ill all over again. If I really could choose who the father was, hands down, I’d choose Thornton. Most women can do that by sleeping with only one man, I pointed out to myself but dismissed the thought as unhelpful. There was no point in chastising myself now. The damage was done.

All the same, for now, I decided to tell no one about my suspicions. Not until I knew for sure. And then I had to decide whom to tell and what to tell them. I had to be smart and pragmatic about this whole situation.

Paul had been acting really strange ever since Carlos died. I was astounded he took his death that hard. I understood that finding out Carlos was his cousin was shocking; however, it wasn’t like they were close. He hadn’t even taken Marianne’s death this hard from what I could tell. Sure, he’d been upset, but the way he was acting now was just bizarre. Especially since Paul had been disgusted by Carlos and had wanted him gone since he was nothing but a pest. Yet here he was, moping around the house as though in mourning. Then again, perhaps that wasn’t so much because Carlos was dead, but because Carlos who looked like him was dead. As always, Paul cared only about his own skin and was terrified that he was next.

Whatever his reason, he drank all day long, disregarded all his errands, and argued with everybody, including his mother, whenever either one of us tried to speak with him.

He acted like a petulant child, which wasn’t so strange for him, yet considering all that was going on, I hoped he would grow the fuck up. I hoped all this craziness would wise him up. Unfortunately, something like that hadn’t happened. Instead, he’d become worse, not better.

Is Paul the father of this possible child? I wondered, and for whatever reason that brought tears to my eyes. If I am pregnant, I really wish the child belongs to Thornton. It was true we’d only slept together once; however, for some, that was all that it took.

Thornton was a much better man than Paul, and I just knew he would be a better father to this possible child, but life didn’t work on wishes alone. More to the point, since this was my life, it would be safe to assume Paul was the father if I was pregnant.

There was no way to be sure right this moment if I was or not since I didn’t have a pregnancy test to take. But I had this feeling deep down that I was, despite the fact that we’d used birth control. Condoms weren’t 100 percent effective, and I’d made sure Paul always wore one, because who knew where his dick had been. Thornton had also worn one because we had wanted to be safe. Funny I wasn’t feeling so safe anymore with using them.

But, it occurred to me, Paul being the father would have its benefits, at least monetarily. A Wilson baby would help guarantee a split of the inheritance for my new family.

I needed a contingency plan, though, so Paul wouldn’t doubt he was the father. I had the inheritance to think about after all. This child would guarantee my share and probably even child support if I played my cards right. Maybe I could even get back all the money Paul had squandered that I’d put into the marriage.

The mere thought of seducing Paul made me sick to my stomach. Yet it had to be done. At the moment, it would be better for everyone if everyone believed the baby was Paul’s, especially considering the inheritance. Not to mention Noreen’s wealth. Perhaps it was horrible of me to think along those lines; however, I was pretty sure I was a mother now, and I wanted my child to have the best in life. So he or she wouldn’t end up in the situation I was in when I grew up and had to struggle for everything we had.

Seducing Paul wouldn’t be so hard, I tried to reassure myself. He was probably horny as hell by now, considering he’d lost his mistress, and his wife was refusing to sleep with him, not to mention he was drunk all the time. So, it would be a walk in the park. A very short walk, if I’m lucky.

I need to make Paul believe the child is his. I’m doing this for the child support and the inheritance. Not to mention, I knew that Noreen would help out as well because she was obsessed with becoming a grandmother. She’d been hoping for a grandbaby for years. I knew she’d do everything she could to lend a hand.

The only trouble with my plan was I hated the idea of lying to Thornton. He didn’t deserve something like that from me. Especially when I was feeling there was potentially something monumental happening between us. Especially when I was feeling like I was falling in love with him.

Thornton had been a godsend. Not only was he an amazing man, but he was also an amazing detective. I could barely focus with everything going on, and I was actually afraid of Cameron. I was so lucky to have Thornton to protect me.

Everything will be all right if I leave the case in Thornton’s capable hands. I knew if anyone could, he could save us all from Cameron.

And we definitely have to sell this mansion, and fast.

I went in search of Paul to get him to set up the appointment for all the furniture and knick-knacks. It was prudent to stay busy and not think about all my problems, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.

It was unfathomable to me that he was off doing God only knew what, when there was so much that needed to be done. Just because someone was set to kill him didn’t mean he should abandon all his responsibilities.

And if I did it instead of him, he would accuse me of meddling and trying to interfere. That man was so infuriating. I couldn’t wait to get rid of him for good.

Later that day, Thornton came by so we could all have a conversation. I had the urge to tell him about the baby, but I suppressed it. I still needed to get a test and find out for sure if I was.

We sat in the living room, chatting lightly as Noreen came to join us. Paul was the last one who entered the room, and it was more than apparent how drunk he was. I wished I could slap some sense into him. Then again, I was painfully aware that not even that would help. Paul was set in his ways, his mother spoiled him rotten, and these were the results. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to put up with him for much longer.

Then again, that was up to Thornton and how fast he could find Cameron.

“Where were you all day?” I had to ask Paul, not bothering to hide how much his absence irritated me.

“Out,” he said through gritted teeth, sitting down. And that was the only thing he said to me.

Part of me really wanted to snap something in return; however, I held my tongue, not wanting this to turn into a full-blown argument, again. At the moment, we had more pressing issues.

“Carlos’s mother was named Sabrina Delgado. She died when he was ten years old, leaving it to the state to take care of him,” Thornton started his narrative, telling us what he discovered. “She worked at this estate as a maid, employed by James Mason.”

Noreen and I shared a look. I didn’t have to wonder anymore how the two met and had a son. It was an encounter of convenience, so to speak.

“He had a child with a maid,” Noreen said with a disapproving shake of her head, “how pedestrian.”

Thornton nodded. “Apparently, while Mrs. Mason was away visiting her family, James and Sabrina grew closer, and she ended up pregnant.”

Men were such pigs. Especially men from the Mason family.

“Sabrina and Carlos lived in the groundskeeper’s cabin for several years, but then she got fired. Shortly after that, Mrs. Mason filed for divorce.”

So first she chased the mistress and a child out of the mansion, and then she left him. That was one vindictive woman. Then again, I couldn’t say if I would do anything differently. I could be pretty vindictive myself.

“Sabrina and Carlos were homeless for a bit,” Thornton continued, unaware of my musings. “Unfortunately, she then caught pneumonia and died, leaving Carlos all alone. He bounced around different foster homes afterward, had a nervous breakdown when he turned eighteen, and eventually found his way back to the estate, where he started living as a squatter.”

Hearing his story like that, I felt sorry for him. He wasn’t to blame for what his parents did.

“Is that all?” Noreen asked, looking almost bored.

“Actually, no. James had acknowledged Carlos as his son prior to his death.”

“He did not,” Noreen insisted.

“The paperwork is a matter of public record,” he insisted. “His full name is Carlos Delgado Mason.”

“I see. That means he could have contested the will, and claimed the inheritance all to himself,” Noreen pointed out to Paul.

“Why didn’t he?” I asked out loud.

“That’s a good question,” Thornton agreed.

“Because he was sick and had companions in his head,” Paul replied.

I started thinking about something else. It was ironic how much Paul benefited from his cousin dying. Carlos not only saved his life by dying instead of him, but he also gifted him the wealth he could have legally claimed.

Of course, I kept that to myself; no need to antagonize him or Noreen.

Noreen patted Paul on the hand. “I know I sound like a bad person; however, I am a mother, and you should feel blessed, twice over, that Cameron killed Carlos instead of you.”

Noreen basically said what I was thinking. Paul needed that reality check.

Paul scoffed at that. “I don’t know how blessed I feel considering Cameron will be back to finish the job.”

“I won’t allow anything bad to happen to you. I’ll even keep watch outside if needed,” Thornton said. His eyes were on me as he said that, and goosebumps popped up all over my body. This was the best I love you I’d received in my entire life.

Nobody else noticed that except me. And I was grateful. I didn’t want or need any kind of accusations thrown my way before I filed for divorce.

All the same, I hoped Thornton could see in my eyes I felt the same way about him.

THIRTY

PAUL

I had to admit that having all the secret passageways and hidden rooms had its benefits. When I felt like I’d had enough, and wanted to get away from all my problems, my life in general, I would simply seclude myself in one of those rooms. Or I would explore the tunnels, and passageways, trying to see where all of it was going. Anna pulled her face and said they reminded her of prison cells, but for me, they were the most lavish abodes.

There was a part of me that was worried Cameron would discover there were a few ways to enter the mansion from the outside without using doors or windows, so I made sure those hidden doors were firmly closed. And I didn’t mean simply locked, but chained, and nailed shut when necessary, and then I made sure furniture was pressed against them.

It took a little bit of work; however, I knew it was something that had to be done, or I wouldn’t feel safe inside the mansion.

The sad reality was that I didn’t feel safe one way or the other. I was a sitting duck inside that big house, that golden prison, and I hated every second of it.

Living like this, constantly worrying about Cameron finally making his move was no way to live.

Why is it so hard for the police to find one man? He was extremely dangerous with the intent to kill; shouldn’t he be the top priority? I fumed. Not that Sheriff Price cared about what I was thinking one way or another. That much was obvious because he was declining my calls, and when I managed to talk to another officer, it was almost like they were laughing at me.

Perhaps he and his men thought I deserved it all for being involved with a married woman. I saw how he was looking at me, and how he was judging me while I shared my story. Then again, perhaps he was just jealous because I lived my life to the fullest, or at least I was trying to, and he didn’t have the guts to try the same, hiding behind the law, badge, and gun.

Stupid coward.

That stupid man was going to get me killed with his incompetence. Not that the cop from New York City was any better. He still hadn’t bothered to come and speak with me.

While I was in such a delightful mood, musing about my life, about everything that had happened to me since I’d inherited this damn place, unable to sleep because I was afraid Cameron would haunt my dreams, I heard a noise that made me go very still, and listen closely.

In the dead of the night, all sounds appeared sinister, even the most mundane ones. All the same, I recognized it immediately. It was a distinct sound of the front door being opened and closed. That filled me with dread.

I would have missed it if I had been upstairs in my room; however, since I was in my uncle’s study, lounging on the couch, I heard it loud and clear. I got up immediately, and without turning on any lights, I grabbed a baseball bat that I’d set by the desk.

I’d found it while I was cataloging everything that my uncle owned. He had an impressive collection of sports equipment, although I never saw him play with any of it, golf excluded. Then again, that was the prerogative of the rich, to surround themselves with stuff they didn’t need, simply so they could brag to others about how they had it.

I was somewhat jealous and wished I could conduct my life in a similar fashion.

I forced myself to focus as I crept out of the room. I wandered around the silent house in my T-shirt and underwear, armed with a baseball bat, looking for any signs of a break-in, fearing what I would have to do if I actually encountered anything or anyone.

I wasn’t trained for such situations. I need help. Unfortunately, I had no idea where my phone was to call the police, and turning on the lights to search for it in the study or living room was out of the question.

I could definitely sense cold air in the entranceway, but I couldn’t really say I was happy I wasn’t imagining things. I glanced outside through the window, and true enough, the motion sensor porch light was still on.

Someone had definitely come in or gone out. And it was hard to determine which one was true. I didn’t see anything past the porch light, and once it went off, it was pitch dark outside.

All of a sudden, I turned to my right because rustling and other noises could be heard from the kitchen.

The thief is going for the silverware, I thought, moving slowly forward, squeezing the bat tightly with both hands. Not that this thief would find anything good there. I already took anything of value and boxed it for the auction house.

My palms started to sweat ever so slightly, but I held on. It was an old-fashioned bat, made out of wood. I would prefer an aluminum one; however, this one could cause some serious damage all the same.

I heard the fridge being opened, and that stopped me for a moment. The light from it cast a shadow out into the hallway. It was definitely a human form milling about, not a ghost, or a dream.

It’s Cameron, it has to be, I thought, my heart beating like crazy, as I prepared to sneak up on him and make him pay for everything that he did. He’d tried to kill me, set me on fire. He’d killed Marianne. And he’d killed my cousin, I listed, getting all riled up.

I rushed inside, and I swung my bat with all my might, but the figure moved, making me hit the refrigerator door instead. It banged loudly through the silence, and someone screamed even louder, and it wasn’t me.

“Mom?” I asked, shakily, once the noise stopped.

The lights went on, making me blind for a moment. All the same, I saw my mom clutching her chest, making me instantly horrified of myself for what I could have done.

“What are you doing?” she asked, with a shaky voice, clearly startled by me.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were Cameron,” I tried to defend.

“You thought he would make a sandwich for himself before killing you? You almost hit me,” she snapped in return. She had clearly recovered from her initial shock and was now sounding more like my mother. And she was very pissed off at me.

I dropped the bat to the floor. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I repeated over and over, going for a hug.

Apparently, my mother had come down for a midnight snack, and I’d almost clubbed her for it. Oh my God. If she hadn’t moved when she did, then I would definitely… I stopped myself there. I couldn’t think about it, it was too horrible.

“Are you all right?” I asked, tentatively.

My mom gave me a look right before she hit me on the head with the first thing she grabbed from the counter. It was an orange, and it still hurt. “You shortened my life too much with your foolishness,” she said, irritated.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated because there was nothing else that I could say. She was right, and I was wracked with guilt that I’d almost hit her. I had been convinced it was Cameron. I’d thought he’d gotten into the house and was in the kitchen looking for some kind of weapon.

The front door, I reminded myself. I’d heard it opening.

“Mom, were you outside just now?” I asked before I jumped to any more conclusions. I had filled my quota for the night.

She nodded. “As I came down, I thought I heard a sound outside, so I went to investigate. There was no one there,” she explained. “I must have heard it wrong.” She brushed it off to my utmost horror.

“Mom, you can’t do that in the middle of the night. It’s not safe,” I chastised. “What if it was Cameron?” I asked, going to the security alarm panel to make sure it was still on. Of course, it wasn’t. I fumed, activating it again.

“I’m sure Cameron wouldn’t use the front door,” she replied.

“Mom, I’m being serious,” I insisted. “We all have to be very careful from now on, and act accordingly.”

She patted me on the cheek. “I can take care of myself, my dear. I have been doing it all your life, and mine,” she reassured.

It was on the tip of my tongue to point out how she was not a young woman anymore but refrained from it. I didn’t want to be rude.

“I’m going to bed now, I’ve lost my appetite,” she said after a short pause, heading for the stairs.

“What’s going on? I heard noises?” Anna appeared at the kitchen door, looking shaken, and afraid. It was obvious she, too, assumed something terrible was going on.

“Nothing, dear, just my son seeing the bogeyman everywhere. Go back to sleep,” my mother reassured her.

I made a face.

How did I end up being the one at fault? I was trying to do the right thing. I was trying to protect us, and yet, in the end, I was the one being chastised. Life wasn’t fair.

“You should go to sleep too,” she said to me. “There’s a lot of work to be done tomorrow.”

I kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, Mom.”

Slightly confused, Anna and my mother retired to their rooms for the second time that night. I picked up the bat from the floor and turned off the lights.

I returned to the study instead of going to my bedroom. I was too rattled to sleep.

I had almost clubbed my mother to death. I never knew I had something like that in me, but in those moments, I was prepared for it. I was prepared to fight for my life, to survive no matter what.

And as a result, I almost killed my own mother, because she was right; I saw the bogeyman everywhere. I was such an idiot.

Then again, there was nothing wrong with being careful. She was the foolish one, opening the door in the middle of the night, as though that was the most natural thing in the world, while there was a killer on the loose. I really wished she’d look after herself a bit more. That she thought before doing something because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to her.

I was very much aware my mother could be formidable if the situation required it from her. I could remember her defending me like a lioness from my awful father, even at her own expense at times; however, that didn’t mean I was any less worried about her. She was almost seventy years old and was no match against a thirty-something ex-marine crazy person. And it was infuriating she refused to see that. Her parents had left Italy after the Second World War, with her and her siblings, carting them across the ocean to America in the hope of a better life. They had struggled to make ends meet, with Mom eventually going to work at the age of ten, helping her mom take in washing and sewing on top of caring for her younger siblings. She’d struggled her whole life but always came out on top. I just didn’t think that was going to help her now with this crazy man.

Or perhaps she’s not worried about it so much, knowing Cameron is only after me. I shook that thought off immediately since my mother wasn’t like that at all. She was the most selfless woman on the planet, so it was up to me to look after her. She was an old woman who really didn’t need all this stress revolving around a maniac who wanted to kill her son, in her golden years.

I honestly wished the police would finally do their job and catch Cameron, and fast, because I was truly at the end of my rope. We all were. We hadn’t left the house for days, and Anna and I were flinching at our own shadows. I wasn’t sure how much longer we could take it.

It was true we now had that PI guy working the case as well, but I didn’t have much confidence in him. It was obvious he was here simply so he could get into Anna’s pants, and was basically doing the bare minimum.

As though I cared to hear the story about Carlos and his mother, I grumbled. He should be hunting for Cameron, but then again, why risk his life if he didn’t have to? I was sure Anna was impressed with what he’d discovered all the same. It was pathetic what some men would do just to get laid.

Was he successful? Do I care?

“Paul?” Anna’s soft voice snapped me from my thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Can I stay with you tonight? With everything that’s happening, I feel afraid.”

She looked lovely in the dim light. Almost as beautiful as when I’d first fallen in love with her. However, there was something in her eyes, something that said she was both scared and lonely. Maybe she was as lonely as I was with Marianne gone. My heart ached at the loss of her, and I wondered if Anna could fill that void. After all, it wasn’t like I was cheating on Marianne by being with Anna; we were married. Maybe this was what we really needed. To give each other comfort.

“Sure,” I heard myself say.

Maybe I did care.

THIRTY-ONE

ANNA

I didn’t like the fact my body had established a routine. Wake up, feel sick, rush to the bathroom, throw up, rinse, and repeat.

Then again, perhaps I should feel blessed those were the only symptoms I had. I knew women who had been nauseated throughout the entire day. Now that would be agony. It would also be harder to hide from Paul and his mother, so I was definitely counting my blessings.

All the same, just to be on the safe side, once I made sure I was done for the day, cleaned myself up, and got dressed, I did the only thing I could in such a situation: fetched my car keys so I could drive myself to the nearest drugstore to buy a pregnancy test.

It was time I had definite proof if I was pregnant or not.

Who knows, there is still a chance I am merely being poisoned and not pregnant, I thought darkly. I hoped that wasn’t the case. Despite the complicated circumstances, I had always wanted to be a mother, and really hoped this was finally going to be my time.

I thought back over the previous night. Coming downstairs to find that Paul was pretty drunk and swinging a bat at his mom because he’d thought she was Cameron had been a little nerve-wracking. I’d pretended to be worried so I could end up in bed with him. I’d known he’d allow it. The way his eyes had lit up had turned my stomach. I was never so glad when he’d actually passed out before he’d done more than kiss me.

As I’d gotten him fully undressed to make it look as though we’d gone further than just kissing, I couldn’t stop comparing him and Thornton. Although it was wrong, I couldn’t help it. I enjoyed being with Thornton, and not just because I was falling in love with him. It was more than that. Thornton was a better, more caring lover than Paul had ever been. Paul was selfish, and it showed in every aspect of his life, sex included. Which made me grateful that I hadn’t actually had to sleep with him last night.

“Going out, dear?” Noreen asked, catching me at the front door.

I cursed to myself because I knew she would ask where I was going, and I hated lying, especially to her. At the same time, it wasn’t like I had a choice. I didn’t want anyone to know what I was doing, because I wasn’t prepared to share my news with everybody.

“Yes, just a quick trip to the drugstore,” I replied, deciding to remain as close to the truth as possible.

Best lies rested on the truth, right?

“To the drugstore? What do you need, maybe I have it?” she offered.

I groaned inwardly. I seriously doubted she had what I needed.

“That’s okay, I don’t want to trouble you,” I tried to brush her away.

She smiled. “I’m an old woman, which means I have an impressive drug cabinet,” she joked.

“Don’t say that. You’re very vital, Noreen. However, I have to go and pick up some medication. I’m feeling a bit under the weather.”

She instantly grew serious. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want me to make you some soup?” she offered next.

Although I adored her homemade soup, her cooking in general, the mere thought of it, especially if she made it with big dumplings, made me nauseated.

Calm down, I warned myself.

“That’s okay, I know you have enough on your plate as it is,” I replied.

Paul was such a bastard at times, making his old mother work instead of him each time he didn’t feel like it.

She waved her hand. “I’m not that busy. Do you want me to go instead of you, so you can relax, and rest?”

Usually, I would be touched by her care for me, but at the moment, I was simply irritated she wasn’t letting me leave.

“It’s prescribed medicine, which means I have to go pick it up myself, but thank you, though,” I explained, lying through my teeth, “besides, I think some fresh air will do me some good.” Especially considering I will drive myself there and back, I thought with irony.

“That’s true,” Noreen agreed. “All right, dear, see you soon, and you’ll have a nice refreshing soup waiting for you when you get back.”

That really warmed my heart. The way she always took care of me. On impulse, I gave her a hug.

“Thank you. So much, Noreen. I’ll see you later.” I rushed before that conversation went any further.

A little bit longer and she would definitely know something was wrong. I wasn’t that good of a liar. I was painfully aware of that.

I still considered it a major miracle that I managed to fool the sheriff the day Marianne died about my whereabouts. I shook my head dismissively. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t think about that woman, ever again.

I felt relieved getting into my car and driving away. It was good to get out of that estate at least for a little bit. Too many bad things had happened there. I always felt a weight on my chest simply by being there. I felt trapped there, I felt stuck there, but hopefully, all those feelings were temporary as was my stay there. As soon as Thornton finds Cameron, we will be able to sell the estate and move on.

Thinking of Thornton, I decided to call him while I was away from the estate. I couldn’t speak with him completely freely while I was in the mansion because I could never be too sure if someone was listening in or not.

The instant I heard his voice, asking me how I was, telling me how much he missed me, the wall around my heart cracked, and I decided to tell him everything.

“Thornton, I have something to share, but please let me get it out before saying anything, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied simply.

I nodded, taking a deep breath, in a way steadying myself for what was to come. Here goes nothing.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

Nothing came through from his side.

“I mean, I don’t know just yet; however, I’m on my way to buy a pregnancy test. If I am, I’m keeping the child because I’ve always wanted to be a mother,” I said, although Paul tried to kill that desire in me with his selfishness.

I could tell I was garbling, but I had to get it all out before I changed my mind. “Here’s the problematic part. I don’t know who the father is. I had slept with Paul a few weeks before I met you, so without a test, I can’t say for sure. And I would really like to hear your thoughts about it all, or if it’s going to be an issue for you. I would like to know now before we get involved even more.” Before I hopelessly fall further in love with you, I added to myself.

I waited for him to respond, but he didn’t. There was only silence at the other end.

What happened? Did the line break? Did I scare him off? All kinds of things passed through my head in an instant.

“Thornton?”

“I’m sorry. I just had to take a moment to process it all,” he said eventually.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked, making a face.

“Are you kidding me?’ he asked chuckling. “As far as I’m concerned, this is the best news ever. It’s terrific.”

“You’re really all right with this? I know it’s crazy.” I insisted because I had to be sure. I couldn’t allow myself to end up in a situation in which he would change his mind somewhere along the way.

“I see no issue with it. You slept with your husband before we even knew each other. That’s no crime. And I don’t need to know who the father is. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll love this child, and be the best father ever, if you let me, either way.”

That was what I wanted to hear, and it made me very happy. More to the point, his response moved me so much that it brought tears to my eyes, which was slightly problematic since I was in a moving car. Having such a heart-to-heart conversation while driving, while potentially pregnant, was a bad idea.

I parked on the side of the road.

“I’m really happy, Anna. Are you?”

“I think I am. I’m worried, though. I wish I could return to my life in New York City, and not be stuck in the middle of Paul’s mess,” I replied honestly.

“I’ll catch the bastard. Now more than ever. I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you and our child safe,” Thornton said in all seriousness.

I believed him, and I loved that he was already thinking of the child as his. Unlike Paul, Thornton was a man of his word.

“I wish you were here with me, so I could kiss you,” I said with longing.

“Me too, but we will be together soon,” he promised.

“Soon,” I agreed.

We wrapped our conversation up afterward, and once I calmed down, I resumed driving myself to the pharmacy.

I had no idea what test to buy, considering I hadn’t been in this situation in a long time, and there were so many different kinds of tests now, so I took one of each brand simply to be on the safe side.

If the pharmacist found my situation odd, he didn’t comment on it. I was sure he encountered all kinds of craziness and weirdness in his line of work and was completely used to it.

Once I paid for my bag of tests, one thing remained an issue. Where to go to pee on a lot of sticks? I mused. If I took them back to the mansion there was a chance Noreen would find them, and then all hell would break loose, and that was something I had to avoid, at least for the time being.

Not seeing any other way, I went to a coffee shop, ordered myself a cup of tea, and decided to do my business there, in one of their restrooms. It wasn’t ideal. It would be highly inconvenient. However, it was the best option I had. It was the only option I had.

Waiting for the results of the several tests were the longest minutes of my life.

Eventually, two red lines appeared on one. Another had a blue cross. I looked at them dumbfounded. My brain stopped working for a moment, and I couldn’t remember what that meant, although I’d read the instructions at least ten times.

I looked at them again. Two lines meant that the test was positive. I picked up the third test and stared at it. It read the word ‘pregnant.’

It took me a couple of moments more for that information to sink in.

I’m pregnant.

I’m going to be a mom.

Oh my God.

I smiled.

THIRTY-TWO

ANNA

It was obvious that the stress about everything that was going on was starting to get to Paul.

Cameron hadn’t been found; he was going around killing people – as far as Paul knew – while he was still trying to get everything ready for the first auction we were holding. And he was really dragging his feet doing anything. He would much rather drink and mope around; however, Noreen wasn’t letting him, bless her soul.

I couldn’t imagine how much worse he would become – in every way possible – once he finally learned about the baby. That was precisely why I kept silent.

Paul wasn’t as strong as he personally believed he was. It was simply that he had a good support system so far – me, his mother, and Dean – however, when left to his own devices, he crumbled and fell apart.

Noreen tried talking to him, and it somewhat worked; nevertheless, it was far from ideal. He still drank too much and was constantly in a bad mood. Not to mention how his daily productivity was a laughing matter. He took ages to perform even the simplest tasks.

I was sure that being confronted with all his shortcomings, and in such a manner, definitely took its toll on him as well.

Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about it. There was nothing I wanted to do about it, considering I’d spent too much time cleaning up his messes throughout our marriage. It was time he learned to take care of himself for once.

That night, Noreen prepared dinner and forced us to sit all together to eat. Quite organically, thanks to Noreen’s coaxing, we started discussing the real estate appointment that he’d scheduled. Paul managed to do that much at least; sadly, everything else was up to Noreen and me.

All the same, we were bouncing around ideas on how to spin all the bad shit that had happened at the estate to the realtor. We couldn’t lie about how someone died on the estate. Future buyers had to be aware of that as well.

“I hope there will be people interested in buying this place, no matter what happened here. I want to get rid of this place as soon as possible,” Paul grumbled, taking a sip of his wine.

I noted how he’d definitely changed his tune. He had been overjoyed to inherit this place. But that turned into huge animosity over time, and I understood why. All his fantasies about living at the estate with his mistress disappeared with Cameron trying to kill him, and with Marianne dying.

All the same, I was sure that a selfish bastard like him would bounce back, and cheer up once he realized he could always find another mistress.

“Of course, people will be interested. James received plenty of offers even while he was still alive,” Noreen reassured. She was full of optimism, which meant she was her usual self.

I wished I could be more like that. But all that happened made me wary. And I really couldn’t decide how the tides would turn.

On one hand, two people had died on the estate, and quite recently, James and Carlos. And that could definitely put off a potential buyer, especially one who was trying to settle, and start a family. Bad karma and all that. I knew I couldn’t live in a house that had such a bad mojo. Perhaps that was superstitious of me; nevertheless, it was still true. It was hard for me to put it out of my own mind when I walked the halls at night. I could swear I heard footsteps in the strangest places and sounds that didn’t make any sense to me. Honestly, I couldn’t wait to leave this horrible, creepy place.

On the other hand, I hoped that truly rich people wouldn’t care about such things. This property could always be turned into a business, and people died in hotels all of the time. Or it could be torn down to the ground so something new could be built from scratch.

“I’ll drink to that.” Paul saluted in a mock manner, finishing his glass of wine. He’d turned into a mean drunk. It was getting on my nerves.

“All the additional money from the estate can be used so that you and Anna can finally start a family,” Noreen pointed out in her usual manner. She truly was obsessed. She mentioned children at least once a day, on an off day.

I thought about the growing baby inside my belly. We’ve already started a family, I thought.

“I’m not interested in having kids,” Paul snapped, irritated.

His outburst surprised me. Usually, he was more diplomatic with his mother.

“Paul, don’t talk like that,” his mother reprimanded.

He sighed. “Well, it’s true. We’re not going to have kids, Mom. You’re just going to have to resign yourself to that fact.”

I had to make sure my mouth was closed because his statement completely took me by surprise, and shocked me to the core. He was usually so careful to placate his mom, and right now he wasn’t.

I always knew he didn’t want children. He had been perfectly clear about that from the start of our marriage. And I had sacrificed that part of my life because I had wanted to be with him. I had been a stupid fool to give up something so incredibly important to me for him. Looking back now, I wished I could go back and smack some sense into myself, and end things with him before they even started.

Noreen stared at him for a moment, glanced at me, shook her head, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. I couldn’t blame her. If I didn’t already know I was pregnant, and if I still cared about him, I might have done the same.

Part of me really wanted to yell, Surprise, you’re going to be a daddy, considering this turn of events, but I kept quiet. I decided not to say a word about the fact I was pregnant already, although I really wished to spring it on him. Noreen would fawn over me immediately while he would continue to just sit there, looking miserable, I was sure of that.

All the same, no matter how appealing all that was to me, I remained silent and decided to bide my time. I was sure a more opportune time would come when I could share my big secret.

The next day, much to my delight, Thornton showed up to give us an update on his investigation. It was wonderful to see him, although he shared some pretty bad news.

He was one step behind Cameron. He’d found the place Cameron had been hiding, but by the time Thornton went there, he was long gone. All the same, I wasn’t giving up hope. If he managed to find him once, he would be able to do it again.

And I wasn’t the only one thinking like that. Paul had been very suspicious of Thornton in the beginning. However, he’d changed his tune once he saw how competent my PI was.

“I’m very happy that we hired him to look into all of this shady stuff,” Paul surprised me by saying when I informed him how Thornton would be coming by. I especially enjoyed the we part, as though he’d had a say in the matter, as though it was his choice.

“I feel much safer knowing someone is taking things seriously around here,” he continued, unaware of my thoughts.

I was highly amused by his attitude. It was downright hilarious to me that Thornton had actually managed to win Paul over. And that wasn’t even the best part. I especially enjoyed the fact that I was with Thornton behind Paul’s back, and he was none the wiser.

Karma is a bitch.

I had to admit, I enjoyed all the sneaking around, and a few stolen kisses while nobody was looking. It was fun being with Thornton while Paul remained completely oblivious. It was poetic justice in a way.

Then again, Paul wouldn’t assume I was with someone else, and not simply because we were so isolated on the estate. Women were more intuitive about infidelity than men were.

Paul and Noreen both sat in the living room looking at Thornton with intent as he shared what he had learned since the last time we met.

“Cameron left behind a pocket notebook at his hiding place. I’m sure that was done by accident since he had to get out of there in haste.”

“What kind of notebook?” Noreen asked.

“It resembles some kind of a diary. I tried reading some of it. It’s the usual incoherent ramblings of a lunatic; however, the last page of it definitely caught my attention.”

“What’s on the last page?” I urged.

Thornton provided the notebook, flipping to the back for me to see.

Oh my God.

The last page contained all the addresses that were relevant to Paul, or me, as it turned out. There was my bakery, Paul’s workplace, our place in New York City, and to my utmost horror, the upstate New York estate address we were currently sitting in was listed as well.

He knows where we are. He knew from the start, and this is proof, I thought with dread.

Thornton shared that with Noreen and Paul as I looked at Cameron’s handwriting. Even his scribble managed to look threatening.

Naturally, we all were concerned by this revelation, especially Paul. That only solidified his conviction that Cameron killed Carlos.

“I’m next,” he stressed the words before going to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a drink. I didn’t bother to point out how it was too early in the day to drink hard stuff.

“Why are some of the addresses marked out?” I asked next, pointing at our own home address in New York City.

“I don’t know yet,” Thornton replied.

“Let’s call Scott,” I offered.

Scott was a friend of a friend who was renting our New York City place while we were here.

“That’s a good idea,” Paul said while I was dialing.

I also put it on speakerphone so they all could hear my conversation.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Scott, it’s Anna. I’m just calling to check in, and make sure all is well.”

“I’m so glad you did because I was just about to call you.”

“Oh? Has something happened?” I asked while looking at Thornton.

“Someone broke into the house,” Scott revealed.

We all looked at one another. Cameron.

“When?” I asked since Thornton mouthed the question to me.

“I don’t know. Taylor and I were away for the weekend, and when we got back, we found it ransacked.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. It appeared nothing is missing, and all the damage is minor,” he reassured.

“That’s good to hear.”

“But tell me, Anna, is there something I should worry about?” Scott asked, clearly sensing something was wrong.

“No, no, everything is fine,” Paul replied before I could say anything.

I felt like punching him in the face. It wasn’t nice keeping them in the dark. Cameron was super dangerous. Then again, if he wanted to hurt them, he wouldn’t break into the house while they were away, I tried to rationalize.

“And send Paul the bill for all the repairs,” I added, intentionally.

“Only the back door needs changing, everything else is minor,” he reassured.

“Okay, thank you, Scott, talk to you later,” Paul ended the call.

“I can’t believe you just did that, lied to him that everything is fine,” I accused Paul. I was disgusted by his complete disregard for other people’s safety.

“They’ll be fine. They’re not the ones Cameron is after,” Paul said somewhat dismissively.

“Well neither was Dean, and he still set him on fire. Neither was Carlos and now he’s dead,” I pointed out raising my voice ever so slightly.

“What do you want me to do?” Paul snapped in return, getting angry.

Thornton observed the situation calmly; however, it was obvious he was prepared to intervene if he had to.

“I want you to tell Scott the truth. They should know what’s going on.”

“You’re being insane.”

“And I think we should check into a hotel while this is going on,” I added, ignoring his remark.

“I don’t think that is necessary. We’re perfectly safe here, my dear,” Noreen said to me.

“I agree with Mom. There’s no reason to leave. Stop blowing things out of proportion.”

Thornton frowned. He clearly didn’t appreciate Paul’s dismissive tone toward me.

“I don’t think advocating caution should be classified as ‘insane.’” I stood my ground.

Paul sighed. “Fine, I will call Scott, but we are staying put,” he said in return.

It was impossible to put some sense into him while his mother was by his side, agreeing with him.

“Paul, Cameron knows we are all here,” I said, feeling like he needed a reminder. That was the same Cameron he had left New York City for in the first place. Cameron who killed people, presumably during his time in the military.

“The police know we’re here too.”

“So? It’s not like we can’t call the sheriff and tell him we are in a hotel.”

“I’m tired of arguing, Anna. I’ve made up my mind; besides, he could just as easily find us at a hotel, and here we have the security system. On top of that, we can’t afford a hotel. The money is stretched thin as it is.”

That was true, but that was no reason to stay at this place and die.

“Do you own a firearm, Paul?” Thornton asked him, clearly deciding to end our argument.

Paul hesitated, which I found odd.

“We won’t need one,” Noreen answered instead of her son.

“I really think you’re not taking this situation as seriously as you should,” Thornton warned.

“But I am,” I said, marching out of the room. Without further discussion, I packed my bag and returned with it downstairs.

It was obvious Thornton speaking with them made no difference.

“What are you doing?” Paul asked.

“I am leaving,” I said, walking out with Thornton.

There was no way I was staying in this place while knowing Cameron could be lurking in the shadows. And it didn’t matter that I wasn’t a target. I could end up being collateral damage, and that was something I couldn’t allow. After all, it wasn’t just about me now. I had to protect the fragile life inside of me.

Thornton checked us in at the nearest hotel. I felt much better putting some distance between me and that place.

That night, Paul texted me, demanding to know where I was.

I rolled my eyes but still decided to reply.

At the hotel, where it’s safe, I wrote, and nothing else. I was also staying under Thornton’s name just to be on the safe side.

You’re blowing things out of proportion, came his instant reply.

I gritted my teeth. And you are a fool for listening to your mother about this, staying where it’s not safe, I sent back before turning my phone off. I was tired of arguing with that man. If he was set on killing himself, then that was his right.

THIRTY-THREE

PAUL

I couldn’t stop looking at the last message Anna sent to me. It was infuriating how she always tried to hurt me with her words, each time things didn’t go her way. And if she thought it was that dangerous, why did she abandon me and Mom like that? Didn’t she care about me at all?

“Paul, I don’t like the fact your wife left with that man,” my mother said, snapping me from my thoughts.

I groaned inwardly. “Mom, don’t start.”

“I’m just saying. It’s not right, it’s not proper.”

“He’s a PI; besides, she will be back once she realizes how ridiculous she is.”

I simply couldn’t understand. Why stay at a hotel when this mansion had a state-of-the-art alarm system? Ridiculous. Anna was acting ridiculous.

“A woman’s place is by her husband’s side,” Mom insisted. “In troubles and in good times.”

I made a face. “You should tell her that then, not me,” I replied, irritated, getting out of the living room.

I knew my mother meant only the best; however, at times, she was too irritating. I remembered to grab a bottle of whiskey on the way out, before going to my bedroom. I frowned seeing how little there was in the bottle. I was running low on booze in this house. Then again, that wasn’t the only thing I was running out of.

The next day, Scott called me on my cell, which I found odd since he was Anna’s friend, in a way, not mine.

“Hi, Scott,” I greeted.

“Paul, what the fuck is going on?” he asked, managing to sound angry and a little bit scared at the same time.

“What do you mean?” I asked in return, taken aback by his outburst.

“I called the police about the break-in, and some detective showed up instead, telling me how you have problems with some guy named Cameron. He then tore the place apart and found out how the house was full of concealed cameras scattered throughout each room,” he explained.

“What?” I exclaimed. “What is the name of the detective?”

“Gabriel Penn.”

That was the same one who had been looking for Cameron from the start, I realized. Apparently, he was still a couple of steps behind Cameron, as usual. He was an incompetent fool, like the police upstate.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Scott demanded.

“I honestly didn’t think you were in any danger. Cameron is after me.”

“That’s your excuse? The guy surveilled us twenty-four seven. That’s not normal.”

I couldn’t agree more. Then again, Cameron wasn’t a normal guy. He did the same thing to Marianne, which was precisely how he’d learned about the two of us, and now he put cameras in my home as well, clearly in hopes I would return, so he could catch me, and kill me.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, and because of it, I won’t charge you rent next month,” I offered generously.

“Are you insane?” Scott practically yelled at me. “I won’t be staying here even if you pay me. And by the way, I want a refund.”

And with that, he hung up on me. I rolled my eyes at him. What a coward. He was behaving as though he was in danger and not me. Also, there was no way I was going to give him his money back. He’d lived in my house so that was only fair. And I wasn’t going to allow him to weasel his way out of a signed contract.

So, what if someone watched their every move? It wasn’t like they were harmed in any way. Damn snowflakes are everywhere. Then again, perhaps it was a good thing Scott would be leaving the house. I’d be able to double the rent for the next tenants. I needed the money after all.

Unfortunately, that was the only piece of good news. I was deeply troubled Cameron had managed to not only break into my house but to leave all those cameras to spy on me. Logically, I started wondering if he’d managed to do something similar at the estate as well.

I was pretty confident he wouldn’t be able to get into the house. The alarm system was pretty serious, and all the secret passages were barricaded, and secret after all, so the house was very safe. I wasn’t too sure about the surrounding property. He did kill Carlos after all, so despite the gate and the high fence, I was sure there were ways for someone with his skills to get inside.

Carlos had managed to get in, and he was a homeless crazy person, so it couldn’t be that difficult, which was troubling.

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me, which was why I decided to go out and investigate. I was only slightly timid while I was out and about, all by myself. However, I brought a baseball bat with me, and it was broad daylight, so I hoped at least one of those things would prevent Cameron from making his move.

To my utmost chagrin, shortly after making my round, I discovered a few trail cameras strapped to trees.

Son of a bitch, I fumed. He had been watching me live here all this time. Although I had no idea when those cameras were placed, it was safe to assume around the time Carlos died. Perhaps that’s why he died; because he saw Cameron installing those, I suspected.

All the same, I really wished something like this occurred to me sooner, considering Cameron had a history of stalking in such a manner. He’d done it to Marianne first after all.

Son of a bitch, I cursed some more.

He was watching, learning, biding his time for God only knew how long. And this right there was proof of how useless the police were. They hadn’t spotted them after all. If it wasn’t for me, Cameron would continue to be privy to everything that was happening around the house.

I wanted to smash them all to smithereens. The problem was they were all installed too high, and I had no idea how to uninstall them. Realizing I had no one who could help me, I found some ladders in a shed and just yanked them off since they were transmitting wireless all the same.

“You are one sick fuck, Cameron,” I said to one of the cameras before turning it off.

Although I had this deep urge to destroy them all, I didn’t. I saved them for Thornton. I hoped he could use them to locate Cameron like they did in the movies.

It was quite disconcerting to learn that the lunatic watching me all day long knew everything about my whereabouts, not that I got out much. Perhaps that was the only reason I was still alive; because I stayed inside, where it was safe, I realized.

All the same, I couldn’t prevent myself from thinking why all the wait. Why not break inside and just kill me? I was sure he had plenty of opportunities to do that. The police came to check up on me twice a day, and they kept a tight schedule, so Cameron could definitely work around it, catch me when I was alone, and be done with it. Be done with me.

So why didn’t he?

Not that I was complaining. I preferred myself living, and breathing; it was just puzzling. Then again, there was no point in trying to understand or rationalize the behavior of a sick man.

I looked at all the spots where cameras were installed. They were focused on three locations: front door, back door, and garage. Nowhere else.

I immediately called the sheriff to let him know about the recent developments regarding my situation.

He was adamant he had no time to come and personally see my discovery but agreed to hear me out, very briefly. Although that irritated me to no end, I sucked it up and explained I found cameras on the property. “He has been spying on me this whole time.”

“How do you know Cameron was the one who placed those cameras there?” he questioned in return. “Perhaps your uncle installed them for security reasons.”

“Because they are looking in and not out,” I pointed out. “Besides, cameras were discovered in my home in New York City as well, and Detective Penn believes it’s Cameron.”

“Well, if Detective Penn thinks so, then case closed.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look, Mr. Wilson, I can’t just take your word for it. I’m not going to send a squad out just because you found security cameras on an estate you’ve barely lived in. As I told you the last time, I don’t have enough personnel to authorize that.”

“I’m not lying,” I rebelled. “You can come and see all the cameras for yourself.”

“You could have planted them yourself.”

I was outraged by his accusations. “It’s Cameron, I’m telling you. This is his MO,” I insisted. “You just don’t want to do your job because you don’t like me!”

“Mr. Wilson, please stop wasting my time, and stop blaming Cameron for everything happening on the estate. You’re just like your uncle. You rich types are all the same – he used to call me for every little thing too. Making up stories and ghosts in that old house. We’re not your private security team, and believe it or not, there are other people living in this town who actually need our help.” He sneered.

“I’m not,” I denied. How could he compare what I was going through to what my uncle did?

“Cameron is not a bogeyman, simply a man pissed off that you slept with his wife.”

The way he phrased things, I had the distinct feeling Sheriff Price was actually on his side. I couldn’t believe it. Had he forgotten that pissed-off man killed Carlos? But then I remind myself the sheriff didn’t believe Carlos died at Cameron’s hands in the first place.

Fuck, fuck.

“I’m not blaming him for everything. And I’m right about this. He planted cameras in my home, and he planted them all around the estate.”

“I don’t believe that’s the case,” the sheriff replied simply. “Good day, Mr. Wilson,” and with that he hung up on me.

I could only stare at my phone for a few seconds.

“Son of a bitch,” I raged with all my might. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Why won’t he believe me?

“What’s the matter, my dear?” My mom came into the room to check up on me, clearly surprised by my outburst.

“The sheriff just hung up on me. He doesn’t believe Cameron has been watching the estate,” I complained.

What am I supposed to do now, when the person that is paid to help me won’t? I would march straight to his office, and I would demand that he do his freaking job.

My mother sighed. “You brought that onto yourself by arguing with the police,” she pointed out stopping me in my tracks.

I stared at her for a moment. I couldn’t believe she said that to me. “I wasn’t arguing, I merely suggested they should do their freaking job.”

“Sheriff Price is a proud man, who doesn’t answer to you. You should have never lost your composure around him,” said the woman who mocked the sheriff the last time he was here.

I shook my head. “Yeah, it makes perfect sense that I am to blame for everything,” I said, storming out of the room.

I called Thornton next and asked him if he could come to look at the cameras. He came a few hours later.

“Did you hear about what happened in New York City?” I asked once he arrived.

“Yes, I spoke with Detective Penn.”

“I’m sure Cameron planted these as well,” I insisted.

“They look nothing like the ones found in your house, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. I’ll check it out all the same,” he reassured.

“Thank you,” I said honestly.

It was good to have at least one person on my side.

THIRTY-FOUR

PAUL

I couldn’t stop shaking. I didn’t understand why this was happening. I was playing with my race car, and then all of a sudden, Daddy started yelling I was too loud. He didn’t stop there.

“I said, stop crying, you whiny little shit,” my father boomed, hitting me with a belt across the back again. It hurt badly.

I curled myself in a corner, but not even that stopped him from lashing at me over and over. Big tears streamed down my face as I cried. That enraged him even further.

Men don’t cry, only sniveling boys who run to their mothers. He told me that many times before.

He came home angry. I should have known I was about to get beaten because he got home ready to fight.

He threw some money into my mother’s face, “Now you can’t say I don’t provide for my family,” he practically growled, going for the fridge to grab a beer.

I knew why he was so angry, Mom told me. He got fired from his job, again. And had to go to his brother and get a loan for money, again. Then he got drunk somewhere along the way, came home wasted and enraged.

He was a miserable, weak man who felt stronger by tormenting his family.

I hated him with my whole being.

“I said, stop crying.” He hit me again.

“Don’t touch my son.” I could hear my mother entering the room. Mom always came to rescue me from that monster.

“Do not interrupt me while I’m disciplining my son,” he yelled as he slapped her across the face.

She fell to the floor by the sheer intensity of it. “Why don’t you discipline yourself, you reek of alcohol,” she said with disgust.

That earned her another hit. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that,” he snapped, before focusing on me again. “You coddle him too much, but I’ll make a man out of him.”

“You mean like you? Real men don’t beat their children,” my mother said defiantly, getting back up to her feet. “Only weak men do that.”

“Shut up,” he growled hitting her again.

This time she didn’t get up. She didn’t move. It wouldn’t be the first time he managed to render her unconscious.

I feared the worst. “Mom,” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

That was when he refocused on me and hit me so hard that everything went dark instantly.

I woke up sometime later. For a moment I didn’t know where I was or what happened. Once it all came back to me, I started crying again. I hated him. I hated him. I wished he was dead, so he would stop beating me and my mom. Mom was sleeping beside me. I was very happy, relieved she was all right.

Although I didn’t want to move, I had to go to the bathroom to pee. I was very light on my feet because I had no idea where he was, and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I didn’t want to get beaten again. My body already ached enough from all the bruises.

I wouldn’t be able to go to the park tomorrow because Mom wouldn’t want others to see my bruises, her bruises. That made me sad.

Once I got to the bathroom I froze. My father was inside. And although he was sitting on the toilet, he wasn’t moving. His eyes were wide open, and his head was leaning against the sink, but he wasn’t moving. There was a syringe sticking out of his arm.

I screamed.

I woke up from that nightmare, shaking from head to toe, covered in sweat, gasping for air. My heart was beating like crazy. It felt so real, being there, seeing my father that way, that I needed a moment to convince my mind and my body it was all just a dream. That he couldn’t hurt me anymore. I lay back down, staring at the ceiling.

It has been a while since I’d dreamt about him. This wasn’t the first time I dreamt about that particular night or the beating I’d received. That was the night he died so it was forever etched in my brain, body, soul.

However, this was the first time I’d dreamt that he died of an overdose, which surprised me. My father died of a heart attack. At least that was what my mother had told me. I was too young to remember, although I distinctly remembered the feeling upon hearing that news. I was relieved. I was happy he wouldn’t be able to hurt me again. That he wouldn’t be able to hurt Mom ever again.

That was why I didn’t cry at his funeral. I was glad the bastard was gone. Why did I dream about him dying in a bathroom, with a needle sticking out of his arm? Was it just because of Mom telling me about his drug issues? I wondered. But it felt so real. That was really bugging me.

The past had gotten mixed with the present, I realized. My brain took a few key elements from Carlos’s passing and incorporated them into a dream about my father. I had no idea what the purpose of all that was; then again, there didn’t have to be one. I was stressed, and this was a coping mechanism, dreaming all kinds of nonsense.

A week and a half had passed since Carlos had died, since Marianne had died, and I still had trouble wrapping my head around it all. No wonder I’d dreamt about my father. That was my first encounter with death after all. However, back then, my father’s death represented freedom to me. I didn’t feel the same about these recent deaths. I was heartbroken that Marianne died, and I was sad Carlos died, although grateful he did it to save my life. Naturally, that was a weird state to be in.

They didn’t deserve to die, but they had all the same because one man decided to end their lives – Cameron. It drove me crazy he was still evading the police, still in hiding, lurking around the estate. I was sure of that. He was looking for me. He was trying to find a way to kill me, but I saw through his plan. I showed him he wasn’t as smart as he believed. I found his cameras, and I ruined his plans.

I hoped that would mean he would make a mistake soon, which would lead to his arrest because that man definitely deserved to rot in jail. Altogether I wouldn’t mind if he died himself. If I could do the job myself, I would. People like that, like my father, didn’t deserve to live, because their presence hurt too many people.

Unfortunately, I was the only one who saw him as the threat he really was. At least he can’t spy on me anymore, I thought, drawing some comfort from that.

Sadly, that was the only piece of good news. One of the deputies dropped by earlier today to let me know how they were closing the case of my cousin Carlos. They’d declared it to be an accidental death, death by an overdose, so that was that.

In Sheriff Price’s eyes, Cameron wasn’t responsible for what happened to Carlos. Carlos killed himself in a way, by injecting himself with a lethal dose of heroin, and his body just stopped working. It was as simple as that. At least to the police because they loved easy answers.

It wasn’t easy, what had been happening to me ever since Cameron discovered about me and Marianne, which was why I got angry as that deputy shared such news with me.

“Carlos dying was no accident. Cameron killed him,” I insisted.

By the expression on his face, I knew he was warned I would respond like that. “Our coroner doesn’t think so, considering Mr. Delgado’s history,” the deputy shut me up before I had a chance to say anything else.

And I didn’t bother pressing, because it was obvious he wasn’t prepared to listen. I wondered why he came in the first place if he didn’t want to hear my opinion. He could have just as easily shared the news over the phone, and be done with it.

Sheriff Price was a bastard; nevertheless, he still wanted to make sure we were all right. At least, I decided to see it that way.

“Tell the sheriff that I got rid of the cameras. I gave them to a private detective I hired to investigate their origin.”

“I will pass the message along,” he said before leaving.

I was sure he didn’t like hearing that someone else was doing their job, and I couldn’t care less. They clearly needed a reality check if they thought they were actually doing right by me, doing their job properly.

It went without saying how frustrated I was after that visit from the deputy. It was maddening that they were that blind and wouldn’t listen to me. Just because I was a civilian didn’t mean I wasn’t right. Cameron was responsible for everything bad happening in my life; he wanted to destroy everything around me because he blamed me for his marriage ending. Sadly, I was the only one seeing that. Sheriff Price would much rather declare Carlos’s death an accident than have to deal with the fact he had a killer on the loose. Unbelievable.

No wonder I dreamt all kinds of crazy shit that night since I was beyond stressed. And my mom wanted me to focus on the house, and how to sell it as fast as possible. How could I do that when there was a target on my back?

I knew I was next. I dreamt about someone dying because I knew I was next. Cameron wanted to kill me, and there wasn’t much I could do to stop him, because I was all alone in this.

Not completely alone, I corrected. At least Thornton is working on the case. He was my last hope, the only one I had full confidence in. He is going to find Cameron. He is going to stop him in time.

Realizing I wouldn’t be able to return to sleep on my own, not after seeing my father in that state, I got up and poured the remaining whiskey from the bottle into my glass. I drank the whole thing down in one go. It felt so good.

Uncle James had some pretty good shit in his liquor cabinet, and I had to admit I enjoyed going through it, drinking everything, immensely.

You are slowly turning into your father.

I dismissed that.

I didn’t have much going on for me these days, so I clung to the few pleasures I could find around the house.

Seeing how one glass wouldn’t be enough, I went downstairs to find another. Uncle James had a few secret stashes, not to mention a whole wine cellar. I wasn’t in the mood for wine that night though. I needed something with a kick, to make sure I wouldn’t have another nightmare.

I smiled when I found some brandy in one of the living rooms.

“You really shouldn’t drink so much, my dear,” my mother’s voice startled me.

At times I felt like the woman never slept.

And she was always on my case. I shook my head because it was a mean thought. She loved me and was worried about me. I was worried about myself too.

“I suppose you’re right,” I replied simply as I handed her the bottle because she’d held her hand out for it. I needed to listen to her more because she usually was right. I needed to come up with a plan. A way to end this whole thing with Cameron. But he was a damn ghost – no one had seen him since he tried to burn me alive.

The only way to lure him out of the shadows would be to give him what he wants. Maybe I could lure him here, and then, when he tries to attack, that sheriff will have to come and arrest him.

I sat on the couch. That dream and that visit from the deputy really rattled me, but it also made me think.

My mother studied me for a moment as she clutched the liquor bottle to her chest, as though protecting it. “Don’t stay up too late, dear,” she murmured before returning to her room, taking the bottle with her, and leaving me alone.

With ideas of how to trap Cameron playing through my head, I returned to my room when my phone started ringing.

Although it was pretty late, and the number was unknown, I answered all the same.

“I bet you think you’re pretty clever, don’t you? You’re going to pay for stealing my cameras,” Cameron threatened.

Most days I would tremble at his voice on the line, but it dawned on me this was my chance to put things into action. “Just for stealing the cameras? How about your wife?” I taunted.

“I’ll kill you slowly for destroying my life.”

“And I’ll kill you, for destroying mine,” I yelled with all my might. “I hate you, you bastard. You will pay for everything you did to me, did to Marianne. I won’t let you get away with it,” I ranted. I wanted him to be angry enough to come after me, so I could call that asshole sheriff and have him arrested finally.

Cameron started to laugh. “You really think you can stop me? You?” he mocked.

“If you had any balls, you would confront me, not hide cameras around my property,” I snapped, trying to taunt him enough to get him to make a move.

“What did you say to me?”

That might have done it, but I couldn’t help pushing a little more. “You heard me. If you are such a tough guy, come and get me, you asshole.”

“Are you truly that suicidal?”

Funnily enough, I wondered that myself. Shrugging, I said, “I just don’t give a damn about anything anymore. So come to the estate, let’s get this over with,” and with that, I hung up on him.

That felt good. I had finally stood up for myself and for Marianne.

THIRTY-FIVE

ANNA

I was in the middle of a nap, being away from all the drama, safely nestled in Thornton’s arms in a hotel room, after we made love. It really did me some good, and I was still drowsy when my phone started ringing.

Apparently, it was time for me to return to reality.

It was Paul calling.

What does he want?

That immediately put me in a bad mood. I went to a hotel to get away from all his drama, yet he was determined to suck me back in.

“Hello?” I answered because I knew he would just keep calling until I did.

“Anna, I need your help,” Paul said sounding really weird. “I did something extremely stupid.”

I checked the time. It was past midnight. But it must be bad if he was admitting fault. What could he possibly have done?

“In my defense, I was pissed off, not to mention in pain over what happened to Marianne, and I thought if I could just call him out… If I could just—” he continued to ramble.

I frowned. Thornton gave me a questioning look, and I shrugged in return. I had no idea what was happening.

“Paul, you’re making no sense,” I interjected. “What did you do?” I asked plainly, hoping for a straight answer.

I also put him on speakerphone so Thornton could listen in.

“Cameron called me tonight.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he called to whine about the cameras I took off the property.”

Thornton told me Paul had called him about cameras. Apparently, Paul found a bunch of them hanging off trees around the house. However, it was unclear if Cameron placed them, or if someone else did it, like James. Obviously, that was clear now.

“He made me so angry, and I thought maybe I could do something about him,” Paul continued, “so I told him to come to the estate so we could finish this once and for all.”

What? How could he be that stupid? It was so like Paul to taunt a killer and then beg for help. He never stopped to think before doing anything, and I always knew that would be his undoing. This was proof.

“And now I’m afraid he’s actually going to listen to me, and I tried to call the sheriff, but he wouldn’t take my call,” Paul concluded.

I could only shake my head.

“Why did you do something so stupid?” I snapped at Paul while Thornton got out of bed and started to get dressed. “Do you have a death wish?”

“I know. It was stupid. I just thought I could end all this if I could make sure he was here where the sheriff could catch him, but the sheriff is being a dick, like usual, all because my uncle was a bit of a philanderer and a pain in the sheriff’s ass.”

“Clearly. And it’s not just stupid, Paul, it’s dangerous,” I replied, irritated.

“I don’t need a lecture, okay? I know I made a mistake. And I can’t deal with him on my own, and the police aren’t going to help.”

That was also typical of Paul. He always made a mess then expected others to clean up after him. Part of me truly wished to just up and leave him to deal with Cameron all by himself.

I would never actually do that. And not because I still had feelings for him, but because he wasn’t the only one on that estate. Noreen was there as well. And that caring woman didn’t deserve to get hurt just because her son was an idiot.

“Cameron is going to come, and he is going to kill me,” Paul said in a panic.

“Did you actually call the police?” I asked next.

“I told you, Sheriff Price hates me. He won’t take my calls; he’s been declining them every time I try to call him. He would be glad if Cameron killed me too.”

I frowned. Paul was making no sense. It was the sheriff’s job to protect people, wasn’t it?

“Calm down, Paul, and tell me exactly what happened,” Thornton decided to take charge, and I was glad because Paul was making no sense to me.

“Thornton?” Paul stammered, clearly taken aback.

“Yes, it’s me. And don’t worry, we will find a way out of this mess,” he reassured while looking at me.

I knew exactly what he was thinking. That my husband was an idiot. No, it wasn’t that I could read minds. It was just that I was thinking about it too.

“You’re with Anna?” Paul continued, clearly ignoring Thornton’s words. He had a one-track mind. “It’s so late. What are you doing together?” he asked, and there was a certain dose of demand in his voice. He’d clearly forgotten all about his fears for a moment.

“That’s none of your damn business,” I snapped in return before he could say something even more stupid. He cheated on me left and right, so he certainly had no right to know what I did and with whom. “Now, do you want our help or not?” I questioned, reminding him about his pending doom.

“None of my business?” he repeated. “Is that so?” he challenged. “The last time I checked, we were still married.”

I pursed my lips. I wished to hang up on him and be done with him for good, leave him to his own devices. As though reading my mind, Thornton patted me on the hand and shook his head.

I took a deep breath. “We were also married when you found yourself a girlfriend,” I pointed out.

“Oh, I see. This is payback.”

Naturally, a self-centered prick like him thought I was doing something to spite him, not because I wanted to be happy. So typical.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I demand to know what is going on between you and that man,” he insisted like a stubborn child. “Thornton? Be a man and admit you have been seeing a married woman.”

Paul was such a hypocrite. Getting all high and mighty now when he had no problems cheating on me when he felt like it. At least I love Thornton. I was sure Paul never loved any of the women he fucked, Marianne included. He only loved himself, and maybe Noreen. That was it.

“We can definitely talk about it some other time; however, I think there are more pressing issues at the moment,” Thornton pointed out.

“Like I said, do you want to act like a child, or do you want help with Cameron?” I couldn’t resist asking. I knew my words would wound his ego, but that was the point. I wanted him to feel how I felt when I discovered he had been cheating on me.

Paul was quiet for a moment before saying, “I need help. I’m sure Cameron is on his way.”

“We will help you,” Thornton said.

“Thank you,” Paul sounded relieved.

“I mean, you’re an idiot for baiting a killer like that; however, Thornton is armed, and we are on our way,” I agreed.

No matter my feelings toward him, I didn’t want that idiot to die. I couldn’t allow the possible father of my child to die like that.

“It’ll take us at least forty-five minutes to get to the estate,” Thornton added.

“Forty-five minutes,” Paul exclaimed. “I could be dead by then.”

And whose fault would that be? I thought, but instead said, “That’s a good point.” I looked at Thornton, hoping he had a better idea.

“Find a safe place and hide, but first make sure the house is secured,” Thornton advised.

“Okay, okay, I can do that.”

“See you in a bit,” I said, ready to hang up when he started talking again.

“Anna?”

“Yes?”

“Can you please stay on the phone with me? I don’t want to be alone,” Paul pleaded.

“You’re not alone, Paul. Noreen is in the house with you,” I pointed out.

“Oh God, you’re right. I have no idea where she is,” he said in a panic.

“Go, find her,” I commanded. “But first, check if the house is safe.”

I stayed on the phone with him as he rushed to make sure that all the windows and doors were properly locked. That the alarm system was working correctly.

“I can’t find my baseball bat,” Paul stressed the words.

He was really freaked out, I noted. And he should feel like that. He caused this whole mess after all. He should feel the consequences of his actions.

I still couldn’t believe he actually told Cameron to come and get him. What an idiot. I knew he was a fool, but I never thought he actually had a death wish.

“I need my bat,” Paul whined, snapping me from my thoughts.

Why was he so obsessed with a bat? It wouldn’t save him from Cameron. I was sure the other man had a gun. I didn’t say that out loud.

“That last time I saw your bat it was in the study,” I offered, trying to be helpful.

“Right, that’s right,” he said.

I could hear how labored he started to breathe, clearly running through the entire house like a maniac.

“Found it,” he informed.

“Good, now go and wake Noreen up. The two of you need to stick together,” I said next.

“What am I going to tell her?”

“The truth, Paul. She needs to know how dangerous this situation is,” I said sternly.

“Right, you’re right.”

“Mom?” I heard knocking on the door. “Mom, wake up.” Paul banged against Noreen’s door.

“Paul, what is going on?” I heard Noreen ask.

“Mom, we have to hide, quickly. Cameron is on his way here.”

“What are you talking about? Did you have a bad dream?”

“Mom, I’m being serious.”

“Noreen, listen to him, the threat is real,” I spoke up, deciding to help.

“Who said that? Anna?”

“Yes, I have her on the phone,” Paul explained to her.

“You should be here, beside your husband, not at some hotel,” she chastised me.

I felt like rolling my eyes. Was this really the time for something like that?

“Thornton and I are on the way, Noreen, but for now you need to hide,” I insisted.

“Cameron is really on his way?” she asked.

“Yes,” both Paul and I stressed the word.

“All right. Let’s turn all the lights off first,” Noreen suggested. “We have nothing to fear,” Noreen said to Paul.

I wasn’t so sure about that. Then again, it was obvious Noreen had more bravery than Paul. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised that was the case. Noreen was a fighter after all.

“Hey, Paul?” I called out.

“Yes?”

“Thornton and I are in the car, and we’ll be there as soon as possible. Let’s end the call for now so you can call the police.”

“Good idea,” Noreen said.

“They won’t come. The sheriff doesn’t believe me,” Paul complained.

“Then make him believe you,” I insisted.

“Don’t worry, Anna, I’ll speak with Sheriff Price,” Noreen reassured me.

I was sure there was nothing that woman couldn’t do. And that included saving her son from a monster.

Again, I added, remembering that story about Paul’s father.

Hanging up, as Thornton drove us down the dark roads, I couldn’t help thinking about Paul, Cameron, and the things that had happened in between that led to this night.

And then something else came to mind. If we ended up being just a little bit late, Cameron could get to Paul, and that would mean I would get everything. I would be the sole owner of the entire estate.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

THIRTY-SIX

PAUL

The lights flickered on the front porch and then went off for the briefest moment. I didn’t take that as a good sign. I pushed my mother to walk faster toward our hiding place.

Thornton advised us to find a safe place, and I did my best. I also felt like it wasn’t nearly enough. I wished Uncle James had built a panic room or something like that. That would come in handy right about now.

“Would you be so kind as to tell me what is going on?” my mother demanded. “How do you know that Cameron is coming?”

I really didn’t want to tell her that I taunted Cameron to come and confront me. Then again, it wasn’t like I had any other choice than to tell the truth.

I opened my mouth to reply when I heard the sound of glass being shattered, which stopped me in my tracks. It was so loud we heard it from our hiding place. We debated if we should hide in one of the hidden rooms; however, considering I had barricaded all the exits using the nail gun and wood I found in the basement, Mom deemed that not a good idea because it would trap us inside.

She was also pretty pissed off at me for barricading them in the first place. Mom’s plan was to simply wait for Cameron, then use one of the secret passages to get out of the house and drive away. Unfortunately, I screwed up that plan by closing all the exits. That was why we were cowering in Uncle’s study like trapped rats.

He’s here, I thought with dread.

That first sound was followed by something else. Something I couldn’t quite decipher.

“What was that?” I asked, bewildered.

“It sounded like the whump of a fire being lit,” Mom explained.

Is the house on fire? That was my first freaked-out thought. I asked as much.

“I don’t know. We have to go and investigate. We can’t stay here if that’s the case,” my mother said. And I was pretty surprised how normal, how calm she sounded. She really wasn’t afraid of anything.

“I’ll go and look,” I said before she got the idea to go on her own.

She nodded.

Although I wasn’t looking forward to it, I took a deep breath before I started moving. Very slowly, and carefully, I left the study and went in the general direction of the sound I’d heard. I was pretty sure it came from outside, which wasn’t good. Then again, the only thing worse would be if it came from inside the house.

While I was in the entryway, some kind of flicker of light from outside caught my attention. I dared to look outside and suppressed a scream. Mom’s car was on fire in the driveway.

Son of a bitch.

I knew immediately what that flame meant, besides the obvious, besides the fact Cameron accepted my challenge. He’d lit the car on fire so we would be trapped inside the house. If we wanted to leave, we would have to do it on foot. We would be like sitting ducks for him out there, ready for his picking. I thought with horror.

Part of me had this urge to run outside with an extinguisher and try to put out the fire before it was too late and try to salvage our only way out. Because if I let it burn then we were as good as dead.

“Don’t you dare,” my mother warned, grabbing me by the arm, and stopping me in my tracks. I wasn’t even aware I’d opened the door and was out in the open. Although I wasn’t that close, I swore I could feel the heat from the car.

Of course, she came after me. Of course, she couldn’t listen for once and stay put, stay where was safe. Of course, she could read my mind, as well.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay hidden?” I snapped.

“I’m glad I didn’t listen. Someone has to prevent you from doing something foolish,” she snapped in return.

“Mom, we need that car. We can’t just stay here and wait for Cameron to get inside and… and kill us,” I forced myself to say. We couldn’t just wait around for Thornton and Anna. They definitely wouldn’t get here in time.

“He’s not going to kill anybody. I won’t allow it,” she said with such conviction I almost believed her.

I was stubborn too. “Let me go. I have to try something.”

Instead of listening to me, Mom yanked me backward. And just in time because two bullets bit into the doorframe where my head had been mere seconds ago.

He tried to kill me. Those were no warning shots. His intent was to kill. Both Mom and I crouched down at the same time.

Son of a bitch, my heart started to beat like crazy, as I shook from head to toe. He tried to shoot me in the head. Oh my God. My mom saved my life. If it wasn’t for her, it would be game over.

While I was freaking out, Mom slammed the door shut. In one swift move, she locked it as well. Not that it would do us any good against Cameron; I was sure of that.

“Turn the alarm on,” she ordered, and that snapped me from my initial shock. On my hands and knees, I went to the panel and activated the alarm. I had no memory of deactivating it in the first place.

What was going on with me? Was I losing my mind? I didn’t have much time to contemplate something like that because Cameron started shooting again, and this time he aimed for the windows.

The glass shattered; tiny glass shards started falling over everything. I jumped to protect Mom. The alarm started blaring. It was hard to hear myself think with that thing blasting all around me. At least I knew it was working properly. I wished Uncle had installed steel shutters, bulletproof glass, or something like that.

“We can’t stay here, let’s go.” My mother started urging me away from the line of fire.

We crawled away from the entrance and from all the windows. And once again I was astounded by my mother’s level-headedness. I was really grateful she was there with me because without her I would be completely lost.

I would also be dead. I banished that. I couldn’t allow myself to start thinking about it, and panic. I had to survive. We had to survive. And thanks to my mother I was hopeful. She appeared to know what to do even though we were under siege, in a way.

Although I was in a highly dangerous situation, with a maniac shooting at me, my mind wandered off for a moment.

I had a flashback of my mother. I was very young, and she was cool as a cucumber, covering my mouth with her hands, to prevent my whimpers of fear from being heard, so my father would not find our hiding place during one of his fits of rage.

We did that at times, hid from him. Mom had an old sewing desk into which we could both crawl and lock ourselves in. And he never managed to find us there although he would rage around, tearing the entire house apart.

Eventually, he would pass out, and we would be able to crawl out.

Mom would immediately start cleaning up the place, so by the time he woke up, everything would be returned to normal. Usually, he wouldn’t remember he was angry and wanted to beat us. Unfortunately, on rare occasions, he would retain that memory and beat us twice as hard.

It was always a gamble with that man.

I snapped out of it, returning to the here and now. This was no time to muse about my father, although I understood why he came to mind. Once again, Mom and I were encountering a bully, a monster. And just like last time, we would be victorious.

At the same time, this bully had a gun, not a leather belt. We needed a plan for how to outsmart Cameron.

I dared to look behind me. Although I couldn’t see much in the dark, I could definitely hear bullets being fired, and the door handle being rattled.

He’s trying to destroy the lock on the door, I realized with dread.

“Mom, we have to hurry,” I urged.

Just as I said that, there was a loud bang, and the whole door started to shake. He was trying to break in, and the only thing stopping him was high-quality wood. Although I was sure that even that wouldn’t keep him out long.

A few more bangs later and Cameron managed to kick the door in, marching inside, immediately starting to look for us.

“I came like you wanted me to.”

Mom gave me a look, which I ignored.

“But I am very disappointed with the welcoming party,” Cameron boomed so loud I could hear him despite the alarm.

Just as I had that thought, I heard a round of bullets being fired, and then the alarm went quieter.

“That’s better,” Cameron said approvingly. “Where are you, little man? You have a date with my gun,” he taunted, sounding like a truly crazy person. “Don’t make me come look for you. You won’t like it much.”

Mom and I were hiding underneath a dining room table; however, we both knew we couldn’t stay there for long.

I knew we had to stall for time until Anna and Thornton arrived, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t even get a chance to call the police. I hoped the alarm getting triggered would force at least some of the police officers to come our way, but since I knew Sheriff Price was personally not a fan of mine or my family’s, we were probably a low priority.

I also wondered where Anna and Thornton were. I couldn’t believe they were together.

“I always knew you were a coward. I don’t understand what Marianne ever saw in you,” Cameron continued to rant, going through the rooms, slowly searching for us.

As a precaution, we left our hiding place and moved, still on hands and knees, to the living room. The couch was so big we could hide behind it quite easily. While we were there, we could hear him going through the kitchen, breaking everything in sight.

Once he moved to the dining room, we retreated to the study.

We constantly moved around, going through the library, and to the second sitting room, fully knowing that if we stopped, it would be game over. He would find and kill us.

And I really didn’t want to die.

I prayed to all the forces known and unknown that help managed to get to us in time.

THIRTY-SEVEN

PAUL

It was nerve-wracking playing this cat-and-mouse game with Cameron, always trying to be one step ahead of him, while not making a sound.

I was extremely worried about my mother and how all of this could affect her. She was an old woman, and it couldn’t be good for her heart to run around the house, hiding from a killer. Then again, that was better than catching a bullet.

And Cameron did that a lot. He would just start shooting randomly at things, clearly in hopes of flushing us out. All the while he shouted all kinds of profanities at my expense. I didn’t appreciate him saying all those things in front of my mother. Not that he cared she was in the house with me. I knew he saw her by the door, yet again, that didn’t stop him from attacking. He was truly a deranged person.

He also mentioned Marianne a great deal, which I resented. He didn’t have the right to speak about her, to act all wounded, and accuse me of stealing her from him, not after he killed her in cold blood.

“Am I getting close, Paul?” Cameron taunted. “I know I am. You’re running out of rooms you can hide in.” Those words were accompanied by a crash. Cameron was destroying everything in his path, ruining all my uncle’s antique furniture, and breaking art pieces. I was sure that in the last five minutes alone, Cameron had cost me hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Then again, I would gladly sacrifice all of my uncle’s possessions before myself and Mom.

I also understood why he was doing that in the first place. It wasn’t a mere act of rage, although he was definitely on a rampage. He was creating debris on the floor so we couldn’t hide in those rooms. So, we would make a sound.

Nonetheless, we managed to outsmart him, moving through secret passages from one room to the other. Even if we couldn’t get outside, they were still pretty useful.

I only resented my uncle because he didn’t connect the first and the second floor via tunnels. That would make our lives much easier if we could hide upstairs.

“Let’s go to the kitchen; he already searched through there,” my mother advised.

“He’ll hear us,” I pointed out. As I mentioned, he broke all the dishes, creating a minefield.

“We can use the back door to get out,” my mother said.

I nodded, although I wasn’t loving that plan. We left the hidden passage, much to my annoyance, and started crawling toward the kitchen.

There was just one problem, besides the man with a gun searching for us, we had to go through the entryway and be completely exposed for a bit to reach it.

“I’ll go first,” I warned my mother. I really regretted some of my choices as I slowly advanced toward the entryway. It was just my bad luck to get involved with a woman whose husband was a major psychopath.

My mom had always said I should choose wisely. I wished I had listened.

My heart was beating like crazy as I slowly crept forward. Nonetheless, I was super aware of where Cameron was at any given time. He definitely didn’t try to be stealthy or quiet, for that matter. Then again, why should he? He was the one with a loaded gun after all.

I wished I had a gun right about now. Then again, I had no idea how to use it, so it would be completely useless in my hands. And then we finally reached the hallway. I started praying like hell that Cameron wouldn’t spot us.

And then, all of a sudden, all the lights went on. Mom and I froze in place.

“And then, there was light,” Cameron boomed.

“Hurry,” I mouthed to my mother. We had to reach the kitchen as soon as possible.

Having light to see had its advantages. We could avoid all the broken things Cameron left in his wake, remaining silent. The disadvantage was that he could spot us now very easily even if we were completely silent.

My heart wept at all the things he’d destroyed; all the money lost. I only prayed that Uncle insured most of these things and that the lawyers kept up the payments for me. But I sensed my priorities were out of order; first, I had to survive the night.

“Now, what do we have here… a hidden door? Are you in here, Paul?” Cameron asked. I knew he was in my uncle’s study at the moment. And he’d found one of the secret passageways. I sighed with relief that we weren’t inside anymore. Mom made a good judgment call, as always.

While he was searching through there, we had an opportunity to escape this place entirely. Our only chance. I was sure of that.

We were almost there when the door behind us busted open.

“There you are, trying to sneak out like a rat,” Cameron spat.

My mother screamed, startling him a little, and I realized that he had no idea she was there with me. I wished it remained that way. Why did she have to scream?

On impulse I jumped up to my feet, yanking my mother upward as well. “Mom, run,” I ordered as Cameron started to raise his gun in my direction.

I pushed her the other way so we would separate, making sure I was his only target. My mother rushed toward the grand staircase, climbing to the second floor, and I followed the original plan and rushed to the kitchen.

A bullet grazed my left ear. That was close.

“Tell me, Paul, are you a mama’s boy?”

“Leave her be. I’m the one you want,” I yelled without turning.

“I think I’ll go and introduce myself to the lady of the house before I deal with you,” he said, much to my horror.

I stopped in my tracks and turned only to see Cameron rushing after my mother.

Nooooo.

Realizing how running after him would be equal to suicide, I rushed to the kitchen so I could use the second set of stairs to reach the second floor and take Cameron by surprise.

I grabbed a massive iron pan on my way upstairs. I knew it wasn’t much of a weapon against a gun, but then again, I was working on the presumption he wouldn’t see me coming.

I could hear my mother screaming, which made me double my pace. Why did this house have to be so big? I fumed, as my lungs started to burn, yet I did not slow down. I had to save her.

I managed to get there just in time. He was upon my mother, turned away from me, backing her into a corner, and I swung with my weapon wanting to hit him straight in the head. I just needed to knock him out and then get the gun out of his hand.

My mom saw me coming but said nothing. He tried to grab my mother, moving, and I missed, hitting him on the back instead. He groaned, turning around. Once he saw me there, standing with my pan, he started raising his gun, clearly prepared to shoot me.

Although I knew something like that was impossible, I could have sworn I saw him do it in slow motion. Everything that happened afterward happened really fast.

Mom grabbed a vase that stood at the nearest table and hit him on the head. By instinct, he turned that way, and she threw some powdery stuff directly into his face, nose, and eyes.

I had no idea what that stuff was, or why my mother had it with her; nonetheless, as soon as that stuff touched Cameron’s face he started screaming like a little girl, trying to scrub his face clean with his free hand.

Using that moment of distraction, I charged, trying to hit him. He was so massive I wasn’t even sure I was making an impact; still, I continued. I used my pan too.

He growled and, half-blind, smacked the weapon out of my hand. Then he raised his gun and started shooting, randomly. Mom and I both ducked down trying to stay away from the line of fire, which wasn’t easy considering his movements were completely erratic.

We hid on the grand staircase as he continued to shoot all around him. I knew our best option was to return downstairs, but it would be impossible to go down the stairs while staying so low to the ground.

I felt trapped.

“You will pay for this,” Cameron raged.

“What’s that stuff you threw at him?” I asked in a rush.

“Chili powder,” my mother replied proudly.

I had no idea why she had that with her, but I was glad that she did. It was a stroke of genius, and I wanted to kiss her. Cameron was as good as blind thanks to that stuff.

Unfortunately, that didn’t mean he became any less dangerous. My momentary distraction almost cost me since the bullet passed a hair away from my nose.

Suddenly a door crashed open.

“Cameron,” Thornton yelled coming up the steps.

Finally, I thought with relief. In all this madness, I hadn’t heard a car approaching.

Cameron turned to the direction of the new voice with his gun raised high, but Thornton was quicker. I flattened Mom and myself on the steps, trying to get out of the way.

Thornton fired, hitting Cameron in the shoulder. The other man hissed, dropping the weapon from the hand of his wounded arm. He made a step backward, but then tripped over the iron pan I dropped, and hit his head on the balustrade on his way down.

The giant man had rendered himself unconscious. He was like a collapsed marionette who’d had his strings cut and was now sprawled all over the floor.

I could only stare at him for a few heartbeats more, making sure he wouldn’t be coming back up again.

I couldn’t believe he was out cold.

I survived.

THIRTY-EIGHT

ANNA

We made it just in time to save Paul from himself and his impending doom.

I had no idea what he told Cameron to make him come to the mansion and try to shoot him dead, but it didn’t matter now.

Luckily, Thornton wounded Cameron. He was thoroughly defeated, beaten, blinded, and shot, so it was a happy ending. For us.

At least I hoped it would be.

Cameron was out cold, after hitting his head, but we were all on edge while waiting for him to wake up, as we waited for the police to arrive.

Of course, we all had our reasons to feel that way. Paul was afraid Cameron would still try to kill him, Thornton was worried because of me, and my state, and I worried about myself as well. I worried Cameron would deny that he had anything to do with Marianne dying.

The sheriff arrived accompanied by an ambulance. EMTs had to take Cameron away to the nearest hospital since he was bleeding profusely, and the rest of us were gathered all together in one of the less destroyed living rooms to explain what happened.

I noted how Paul lied about the true reason Cameron came that night. To be more precise, he said Cameron called to let him know he was coming; he omitted the part about inviting him first.

I wasn’t judging. We were all privy to our little secrets.

The firefighters extinguished what was left of Noreen’s car, luckily it hadn’t exploded, and the forensics team milled about, gathering evidence, and taking photos of everything.

I was sure that this was the biggest crowd of people this estate had seen in a long time.

It took a while for Sheriff Price to get to the bottom of things, to understand what happened at the estate tonight in the first place, because we were all talking at the same time, sharing our part, our roles.

Even I couldn’t stop myself from rambling, although I had watched everything from the car. Thornton made me promise I would stay put because of the baby or drive away if it got too dangerous.

Then the sheriff yelled for us to stop, and we did. Eventually, Sheriff Price managed to make order out of the madness.

Paul told his part of the story, lying about how it all started, and I was pretty impressed by the heroism he displayed at the end. Then again, Noreen was the most important person in his life; he loved her as much as he loved himself, so I wasn’t that surprised.

Noreen mostly corroborated her son’s story, adding a few details along the way.

I didn’t have much to say considering I was completely out of the action. And I didn’t rat Paul out how he confessed to me he was responsible for Cameron coming in the first place. It was obvious he worried about that, and I liked the idea of him owing me.

In the end, Thornton shared his part of the story, and he had to submit his firearm, considering he was the one who shot Cameron.

It was good news that none of us were in any trouble since we simply defended ourselves. I could see that Paul was visibly relieved that was the case. He clearly feared jail. Luckily, it wouldn’t come to that.

Cameron was the killer after all. And he alone should answer for his crimes and go to prison. He broke into private property, set a car on fire, and started shooting, with the intent to kill Paul and Noreen. Everything that happened afterward, Paul and Noreen defending themselves, and Thornton shooting him, was completely justifiable.

And I was relieved, especially for Thornton, who got cleared for wounding him. Although he’d had to give up his gun and show the sheriff his registration and that he had a permit for carrying a concealed weapon, he was reassured it would be returned to him.

After learning exactly what happened on the estate, Sheriff Price declared the case open and closed because everything was all clear as day. Cameron came to kill Paul and failed. He failed because he was simply one man, and we were many.

All the same, I felt like it was a very long, exhausting night, and the police and the forensics hadn’t managed to wrap things up until dawn. I felt dead on my feet, and it was really hard not to start dozing off on the couch. I wanted to be respectful, yet at the same time, it was hard to keep my eyes open.

To not fall asleep, I went to the kitchen to make some tea. The kitchen looked like a war zone. The entire mansion looked like a hurricane had passed through it. It would take months, if not longer, to repair all the damage because nobody was going to buy it like that. Shoot-out chic was not an appealing look.

Returning to the living room, I noted how Paul and Noreen were definitely taking what happened tonight completely differently. Paul was clearly worried about himself, and his mother was clearly more concerned about Paul. She was in total shock that her son almost died, again, and right in front of her eyes. Noreen couldn’t stop sniffling and crying, and that really bothered me. To see such a strong woman in such a state. In my life, I had never seen her cry before. When life was tough, Noreen became even tougher, but not tonight.

That idiot didn’t deserve her as a mother and was fortunate to have her all the same.

I went to her and offered her a steaming cup of tea. “Everything is all right now, Noreen. You’re both safe, and he won’t hurt you again,” I tried to offer some comfort and reassurance.

To my utmost surprise, she chuckled. “I know that, dear.”

That puzzled me. “Then, why are you crying?”

“I got a little bit of chili powder in my face when I was trying to incapacitate Cameron. And it’s really bothering me,” she explained.

We both started laughing at that.

“I’m sorry for laughing,” I said through the cackles, but I just couldn’t help myself. I was happy she was okay and tough as ever.

“That’s okay, dear.”

We hugged.

“You should have seen her,” Paul decided to join us. “She was amazing,” he complimented as he used the hem of his shirt to wipe his mother’s teary face.

“I didn’t doubt that for a second,” I said with a smile.

“By the way, thank you for coming. Both of you,” Paul said, looking at me before looking at Thornton. “You saved our lives.”

“You were doing all right on your own,” Thornton replied.

Paul tried to give me a hug, but it was somewhat awkward because I was sitting down and already hugging his mother. And I definitely didn’t feel like hugging him back.

Clearly realizing that, he took a step back.

Although I was tense and worried, I knew this was my moment.

“I’m really glad you didn’t die; that way you’ll get a chance to meet your child.”

Paul just looked at me at that, his expression blank as though I was speaking in a foreign language.

“I’m pregnant, Paul. You’re going to be a father,” I explained.

I didn’t dare look at Thornton in those moments. I knew I could be hurting him by declaring Paul the father; however, I’d made a decision, and I was sticking to it.

As expected, Noreen was overjoyed, holding me, and kissing me, while Paul simply looked shell-shocked. I expected nothing less from him.

“I have to go now,” I said about fifteen minutes later, after answering all kinds of questions Noreen had for me.

“What do you mean, you have to go, go where?” Noreen asked confused.

As far away from here as possible.

“I won’t be staying here with you. I’m returning to New York City, alone,” I said looking at Paul, my meaning clear. It was time to end this farce called marriage.

Paul didn’t say a word, while Noreen protested a lot. All the same, I was adamant.

“Are you all right?” Thornton asked as we left the house and started walking toward the car.

“I’m perfect,” I said, taking his hand.

We drove for a bit when I asked him if he could stop the car for a moment. There was something I wanted to do and didn’t feel like it while on the estate.

He stopped at the side of the road as soon as he was able. “What’s the matter? Are you feeling all right?” he asked, concerned.

That was one of many things I loved about him. How selflessly he cared about others. He even saved Paul, although he didn’t have to. He was that good, and kind.

Without saying anything, I leaned forward and gave him a kiss, a proper kiss, pouring all my thoughts and emotions that I had for him into it.

“I’m filing for divorce today,” I informed him once we parted.

Thornton grinned in return, nodded, then started the car again, driving us back to the hotel so we could pack, so we could start the rest of our lives, together.

THIRTY-NINE

ANNA

Eight months had passed since Cameron had his day in court, was found guilty, and went to jail for all his crimes.

Although he was convicted of Marianne’s murder, alongside the attempted murder of Paul, Dean, and Noreen, he didn’t try to dispute it. He never tried convincing others he had nothing to do with Marianne’s death. And it wasn’t a long or tiring trial either because he pleaded guilty on all accounts.

I’d been in that courtroom for it all, and when he was being sentenced, he’d looked at me and smiled. Oddly, it didn’t feel scary or sinister; it was almost a smile of acceptance. It was like he was telling me it was okay, that he didn’t mind taking the fall for all of it, even though I’d basically pushed him into going after Paul the way he did. I always wondered why he did that. He’d never killed anyone, at least not that I knew of, although he took the blame for Marianne, which made me uneasy because I fully expected him to want something from me in return, and the attempted murder of Paul and Noreen, nonetheless. All the same, I was immensely grateful. Because as long as the world believed he killed Marianne, nobody was looking my way.

The only thing he did deny, and vigorously, was ever harming Carlos Delgado, despite Paul’s accusations. So we all wondered if we got it wrong. We started believing Carlos simply overdosed.

Weeks later, I was helping Noreen pack up the last bits she needed from the estate.

“Where do you want this, Noreen?” I asked, returning to the present and what I was doing.

“Oh, just put that sweater in my suitcase, dear.” Noreen smiled as she scrolled through the Amazon website. “Would you look at this? I think it would be perfect for the nursery, don’t you?”

I folded the sweater and started to set it in the case when I noticed a bottle of gopher bait. I lifted it up with curiosity. “Noreen? What’s this?” I had it in my hand as I looked over at her.

“Don’t worry about that, dear. It’s just something I have for when nasty complications come up. It helps me get rid of them.”

“Sure, but…” As I turned the bottle over in my hands, something about the ingredients looked familiar; where had I seen it before?

“It’s best you put that away, I wouldn’t want to leave it lying around,” she replied sweetly.

It all rushed back to me. Carlos, the heroin. What did they say it was laced with again? Strychnine. I’m sure that was it, and it was the main ingredient in this gopher bait.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Anna,” she spoke carefully, “But I’m sure you of all people appreciate needing to protect what is yours.” She smiled, and there was a knowing look in her eye.

My stomach clenched. She couldn’t possibly know. “I⁠—”

“I’m sure Marianne was a sweet girl, all things considered, but I’m not shocked she met her end how she did.”

“You’re right,” I garbled, willing her to stop. I couldn’t think any more about the awful things I did that day. “I shouldn’t have⁠—”

“We need not talk about it, dear.” She cut me off, waving her hand dismissively, “Now do come look at what I found.”

I nodded. I wasn’t going to question her about it since I didn’t want to be questioned either. I decided to let things rest.

I knew and understood why she did it. She was protecting her son and his interests. It dawned on me, thinking back to the conversation between her and Paul that I’d overheard, that she may have killed her husband to protect him. Considering all I’d heard of him, I couldn’t really blame her. Besides, I had done the same thing with Marianne and never looked back. Didn’t regret it one bit because I had ensured a better future for myself and for my daughter.

I’d had a slight panic attack as we were cleaning when we came across the beginnings of a new will in the bottom desk drawer in James’s study, but it hadn’t been signed or notarized, and since Carlos was dead, Noreen and I tossed the paper in the fireplace and made it disappear. It was awfully convenient for us that James had died prior to finishing it. I looked over at Noreen, and she just smiled. I knew better than to ask her about what I was thinking. I never wanted to get on this woman’s bad side.

Paul received a huge check from the insurance company, and with it, all the damage done that night was fixed, with a lot of cash to spare that helped us get things in order for the estate sale.

Eventually, the estate was sold, and for a hefty price at that. A very famous movie star and director bought it. And he was willing to pay the asking price without any haggling.

I also sold the house in the city where Paul and I had lived while we were married. Although it had been a house from my aunt, I still decided to give Paul half of the money. He gave me half of the estate money so fair was fair.

In the meantime, we also got divorced. And I felt like I could finally breathe again. Although it wasn’t easy getting to that point since Paul fought me every step of the way.

Once I served him divorce papers, Noreen came to my door every day begging me to take him back. I refused, of course, which apparently didn’t sit well with him.

It wasn’t that he was heartbroken that I was leaving him. It was just that his ego got in the way, so he decided to be difficult and stubborn and fight me on everything. The only thing he didn’t fight me on was custody of our daughter, which was to be expected.

I wished I could say that the night Cameron tried to kill him for the second time changed him for the better, but it hadn’t. He remained the same selfish man he always was, if not worse. Even his artwork was the same uninspired garbage it had always been.

All the same, I managed to divorce him and got half of everything he had plus child support for our daughter. He tried to make me pay him alimony; nevertheless, the judge laughed at that and ruled in my favor. A very professional, skilled lawyer, and an even better PI, made sure I had all the evidence backing up my claim.

In the end, Paul couldn’t do anything to fight me and had to simply accept his fate. He still pouted afterward like a spoiled child, and refused to see his daughter, as though that kind of behavior could hurt me.

I let him be because that actually worked in my favor. I wanted him out of my life for good, so he was actually doing me a service, whether he was aware of it or not.

So, while he visited bars and whored around, spending all his share of the money senselessly, as though there was no tomorrow, I focused on more important things in life. Like starting a family with Thornton.

That was all that I wanted and needed: him by my side.

I also had Noreen. I was grateful I hadn’t lost her during my battle with Paul. She tried to stop him from doing anything too foolish; however, at times, even she couldn’t stop her idiot son from acting out.

All the same, Noreen was over the moon that she was finally a grandmother. Although she wasn’t one, at least biologically speaking, considering Thornton was her real father.

I was able to calculate the conception date, and she was definitely Thornton’s child. More to the point, Sarah, our daughter, was the spitting image of Thornton’s younger sister Taylor.

Of course, I kept that tidbit all to myself because there was no point in ruffling feathers when it all ended up for the best. Everyone was happy. Except Paul, but I couldn’t care less about him.

Although Paul was completely useless as a parent like I knew he would be, at least Sarah had a loving grandmother who tried to spoil her silly each time she saw her. I was very much aware at the back of my head what her love could do to a person, I deemed it fine because Sarah also had me and Thornton, who could make sure she was nothing like Paul when she grew up.

I was glad and grateful that Noreen remained in my life even after I divorced Paul. I thought she would take that blow hard and start to hate me. Luckily, that didn’t happen. She understood my need for a fresh start, my need to put myself and the baby first. Also, I was sure the fact I gave birth to Sarah played some role in her sticking around.

Eventually, even Noreen realized that her son was no good, although she remained blind to the fact that she was to blame, at least in part.

For the first time after divorcing Paul, I could honestly say my life was exactly as I wished it to be, and I was happy. Sarah and I lived with Thornton in an apartment we bought together, in one of the nicest parts of the city.

We debated if we should move someplace else, buy a house with a white picket fence, and all that jazz; however, we both realized how much we loved the city, and we wanted our child to experience that as well.

Besides, I didn’t want to part from my bakery.

Speaking of it, I completely remodeled it. And once it was finished, I had a grand reopening, inviting all my friends to celebrate with me, because I finally had the bakery I always dreamed about.

Audrina came too.

“I returned all of Paul’s paintings to him,” she informed me then.

“I bet that made him happy,” I replied, with a smile. I could just picture his face when she showed up with his precious landscapes to return them. Priceless.

“He tried to seduce me,” she replied outraged.

I had to laugh. “That’s Paul all right,” I said once I calmed.

“I’m so happy you dumped his ass.”

“Me too,” I replied, and meant it with all my heart.

Afterwards, my life really entered into a routine which was pleasant and fulfilling. Though sometimes, late at night, I’d wake up sweating, thinking about Cameron locked in that cell. If he ever decided to open his mouth, it could all be taken away. I tried to not let that thought stop me, but it would creep back every so often, like an unwanted visitor.

At the end of my working day, just as I was about to leave the bakery and head home – I was missing Sarah like crazy – my phone started ringing. It was Thornton, wanting to share some news with me.

“Is Sarah all right?” I asked first. Things had really changed since I became a mother. And it wasn’t merely that my priorities changed; my point of view changed as well, on a lot of things.

“She is more than all right,” he reassured me instantly. “We ate, and she fell asleep in my arms.”

I smiled at that. Thornton was an amazing father.

“There’s something else I wanted to tell you.”

“What?”

“One of my buddies called to let me know Cameron was stabbed in prison,” he shared.

“Really?” I asked, although somehow, I wasn’t that surprised.

“Yeah, apparently he picked a fight with another inmate, the wrong inmate.”

“Is he dead?”

“Yes, they tried bringing him back, but he’d lost too much blood.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m too heartbroken for the man,” I said honestly.

“Me either. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks. I’m on my way, so I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.”

Cameron’s dead. I felt a wave of relief fill me in that moment. Because with him gone, my little murderous adventure would stay hidden forever.

I never understood why he took the blame for Marianne; however, I was grateful for that all the same. With him gone, dead, I was free, I was clean. I also felt like celebrating.

Once I got home, I kissed my beautiful baby girl and told Thornton to put on something nice because we were going out. We left Sarah at Noreen’s for her to look after her for a few hours while we went to dinner.

“You know, there’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and tonight feels like the best opportunity,” Thornton said at some point.

“What?” I asked with a smile, feeling some kind of excitement within me, although I couldn’t explain why.

To my utmost surprise, Thornton pulled out a diamond ring from his pocket and got on one knee.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, looking me straight in the eyes, so I could see all the love and devotion he had for me.

“Yes,” I replied without a thought because what was there to think about anyway?

He was the man of my dreams, the one I wanted and needed all these years. I would always say yes to him and would never let go.

This was my second chance, and I wasn’t going to waste it.

* * *

If you were hooked by Anna’s revenge plot and gripped by the twists and turns, then you’ll love The Anniversary.

Get it here or keep reading for an exclusive extract.

THE ANNIVERSARY

A COMPLETELY ADDICTIVE PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER WITH A JAW-DROPPING TWIST

I gaze across the candlelit table into the eyes of the man I love. It’s our anniversary dinner, a celebration of our marriage, of how far we’ve come. But within hours our romantic date has ended in murder…

CHAPTER 1

“Tom.” Catherine’s voice faltered slightly. “Could you maybe slow down a bit? I’m feeling a little dizzy.” Her words came out softly and slightly slurred to her ears.

By the way Tom was driving, Catherine knew he was attempting to shave off a few extra minutes from their journey. She glanced at him nervously as the rhythmic whoosh of passing scenery enveloped them. His salt and pepper hair was swept back from his forehead in an elegant cut and his narrow blue eyes were focused on the road with determination. He was in his element behind the wheel. At least Catherine imagined he felt that way. Tom did everything with determination.

Her husband’s brow wrinkled in concern as his icy blue gaze turned toward her. “It must be the mix of the champagne and your medication.” He continued to look at her instead of the road, which caused her even more anxiety. “You really shouldn’t have had any,” he murmured with a slight smile touching his slender lips, “but don’t worry, dear. I know these roads like the back of my hand. Besides, the interstate is nearly empty at this hour. I’ll get you home fast so you can settle down.” He turned his gaze back to the road as he added, “I would offer an antacid, but they’re all at home. Just hang on.”

Her heartbeat picked up as Tom’s foot pressed against the accelerator, the car surging forward. The speedometer climbed steadily, the numbers blurring together. Catherine’s fright grew, her brows furrowing as she realized they were going significantly faster than the posted limit of seventy. The needle was wavering between ninety-five and a hundred, and this set her teeth on edge. Catherine’s initial sense of elation at the evening out waned. The expensive champagne, which had initially added to the festivities, now swirled within her stomach like an unpredictable storm. She shifted in her seat, her fingers gripping the armrest, as there was nothing else to hold on to.

The city lights streaked past them in a blur, creating a disorienting tapestry of colors. Catherine forced a smile, attempting to appear unaffected even though he probably wouldn’t notice in the darkened car, but her grip on the armrest tightened. She’d only had the one small glass of champagne to please him. He had gone to so much trouble to celebrate their fifth anniversary.

“I will, but slowing down still might help. Or maybe pull over? I think I need some fresh air.”

Tom’s thin smile didn’t leave his lips as he gently patted her hand. “Trust me, we’ll be home in no time. You’re in the most capable hands. Just hang on for an hour.”

That was a bit worrying in itself. Eldon, the town they lived in, was nearly two hours from Cincinnati where they were coming from. It was a tiny little rural town in southern Ohio with a population of about six hundred people. A town in which Tom, a lawyer, was one of the most prominent and well-respected leaders. Everyone deferred to him, trusted him.

The moonlit trees and shadowy fields out the window created a surreal tableau that offered her a momentary distraction from her discomfort in the passenger seat. Catherine forced another smile, though her apprehension and slight feeling of fright remained. She leaned back in her seat, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. The wind whispered through the now partially open window, as she tried to take in as much fresh air as possible.

Tom merged the car onto the road that would take them to Eldon. His foot pressed down harder on the accelerator, the car responding with another surge of energy. The speedometer needle climbed once more. Catherine’s heart raced in tandem with the car’s speed, her fingers gripping the seat as if trying to anchor herself. It was one thing to be going nearly a hundred on the interstate and something different to be going that fast on a narrow two-lane road.

“Tom!” Her voice was a mixture of urgency and concern. “Please, can you slow down a bit?”

Tom’s gaze remained fixed on the road, his grip on the steering wheel unwavering. “Catherine, we’re fine. I’ve got complete control. Can you just shut up? I can’t think straight with you blabbing in my ear.”

Catherine’s anxiety grew, her next words a desperate plea. “I know you’re a skilled driver, Tom, but this is just—” her sentence shifted into a gasp of surprise as she realized the approaching danger.

But Tom didn’t seem to notice the stop sign. Oblivious, he continued driving, turning his head to stare at her.

“Tom, stop!”

Tom’s eyes snapped to the road. He slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching against the asphalt. The Camaro skidded, the world beyond a blur of motion and panic. Time seemed to stretch, a split second that held the weight of an eternity.

The sickening sound of metal meeting metal shattered the silence as the front of the Camaro collided with another vehicle that had the right of way. Catherine’s scream echoed in her ears.

“Catherine!” Tom shouted; his voice laced with desperation.

She couldn’t answer as she slumped against the passenger door, and her normally wide eyes fluttered as pain shot through her. Smoke billowed from the wreckage, and there was shattered glass everywhere. As her eyes drifted closed, she wondered what had happened to the airbag and why it hadn’t engaged.

“Catherine, wake up!”

CHAPTER 2

Earlier that evening…

The warm hues of the setting sun painted the sky in shades of vibrant orange and dark pink as Tom and Catherine strolled away from the two-seater Camaro down the bustling Cincinnati streets, hand in hand. It was a momentous occasion—their wedding anniversary—a milestone that marked five years of shared laughter, tears, and endless love. Tom had decided they would celebrate it in style at the renowned Subito—a luxurious restaurant known for being a culinary haven with a charming ambiance and unique character.

As they approached the grand entrance of the restaurant, Catherine’s heart swelled with anticipation. She had never been to any place quite as fancy as this as they usually kept to their small town of Eldon when they dined out. The exterior boasted a harmonious blend of modern design and a touch of rustic charm, drawing in her attention. Sleek, floor-to-ceiling windows graced the façade and offered a tantalizing glimpse into the vibrant world within. A delightful sidewalk patio extended in front, featuring wrought-iron tables and chairs adorned with plush cushions. Lush greenery, carefully arranged in ornate planters, added a touch of nature to the urban landscape.

Stepping through the opulent doors of Subito was like entering a realm of refined enchantment. The interior design was a symphony of modern elegance and timeless charm, carefully curated to provide an unforgettable dining experience. An impressive chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a soft and inviting glow over the space, framed art pieces lined the walls, and the atmosphere was an exquisite blend of warmth, sophistication, and conviviality.

The host was the epitome of polished professionalism and genuine warmth. With a poised demeanor and a welcoming smile, he exuded an air of sophistication. A smile greeted them as they wandered closer toward him, and his eyes lit up with enthusiasm as they engaged in friendly conversation.

“Good evening. Would you be the Morris party of two?”

“Yes, we’re here for our six o’clock reservation. It’s for our fifth wedding anniversary.”

Tom was always the first to speak up for the two of them. Catherine didn’t mind. After all, it would save her draining her social battery before dinner. Over the last ten years, it had grown hard for her to trust and interact with new people. Despite knowing she only needed to speak with this new man once, it would remain socially taxing for her.

“Ah yes! I recall our conversation, Mr. Morris. If I may suggest, our lamb chops are exquisite this time of year. And I must recommend the calamari as an appetizer. It’s the perfect palate cleanser.”

“Thank you. We’ll take your recommendations into account when we order. Lamb sounds like a lovely meal.” Tom’s voice exuded confidence.

Again, it did not bother Catherine that he hadn’t consulted her on if she wanted the lamb to eat, and she knew he probably wouldn’t before he ordered. Tom nearly always ordered for them both, and she had become used to it over the years.

“Perfect! Please, allow me to show you to our private dining area. I’m sure you will love the atmosphere of the oak room.”

The host guided them to their table with grace. As they proceeded further into Subito, the main dining area unfolded before them in all its grandeur. The open kitchen allowed guests a captivating view of the culinary magic happening behind the scenes. Stainless steel surfaces gleamed, and state-of-the-art cooking equipment were a testament to the restaurant’s commitment to excellence. Catherine watched as skilled chefs orchestrated their craft, creating gastronomic masterpieces with precision and artistry.

Tom extended his arm, guiding Catherine toward a small table in the secluded Oak Room. As they settled into their chairs, a sense of coziness washed over her. The intimate setting encouraged couples to draw closer, and the room’s windows framed the outside world as a tranquil scene that provided a serene backdrop to the evening’s festivities.

Catherine’s fingers brushed against Tom’s as they exchanged tender smiles.

“Happy anniversary, my love.” His beautiful blue eyes held hers.

Catherine’s gaze filled with curiosity as she stared back at him hoping to rekindle her love for him. “Happy anniversary, Tom. I can’t believe it’s been five years already.”

Tom nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Time flies, doesn’t it? But every moment with you has been a cherished memory, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us.” The timbre of his voice was deep and warm.

An impeccably dressed and dedicated server interrupted their intimate conversation. A warm smile graced his lips. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Morris. All of us here at Subito are glad to have you as guests for such a wonderful celebration of love. My name is Clint, and I will be your server for the evening.” With a delicate flourish, he presented the menus, beautifully bound books that promised a symphony of flavors and textures. “This is our menu. It contains well-thought-out lists of all the culinary delights our cooks can create. To begin, please allow me to guide you through our drinks list on the second to last page. Do either of you have anything in mind that you would like to start with?”

“What do you have for wine?” Tom asked.

Catherine looked at him with a frown. He was supposed to be the one driving tonight, and they’d already had some at home prior to coming here. Still, Tom was going to do what Tom wanted and Catherine sighed, knowing full well there was no telling him what he could and could not do. If he wanted to have a glass of wine, he would. She figured it would be absorbed by their meal in any case, so she shouldn’t have to worry too much about it. If worse came to worse, she could always drive them home as she wasn’t planning to drink.

“Well, our most popular are Riondo, Moët & Chandon Impérial, Mumm Napa, and Meranda-Nixon Catawba Estate. Do any of those pique your interest, Mr. Morris?” the server dutifully replied.

“I’m not too sure. What’s the most expensive you carry?” Tom’s electric blue eyes perused the menu.

He was clearly unaware of the shocked gaze Catherine was sending his way. Tom had never been a big spender. Quite the opposite, in fact. Catherine’s eyes glossed over the menu with intent. She had become immensely interested in the prices, all of which she found to be way out of Tom’s normal spending range. Some items didn’t even have price tags, which usually meant if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it. What did Tom have up his sleeve? Sure, it was their anniversary, but to spend so much? Something was definitely going on.

“Ah, that would be our Nicolas Feuillatte. It is the best champagne on our menu. They make it from brut rosé in France. It is a hundred dollars per six ounces. If you are curious about its taste, I’ve been told by many customers that it reminds them of a tropical vacation, and I’d have to agree. Would you like to try a glass, Mr. Morris?” The server tilted his head.

“No, no.”

A wave of relief washed over Catherine.

“I would like a bottle for the table.”

Catherine’s eyes widened. Had Tom gone mad? This was nothing like the husband she had been married to for five years. Even in the years she’d known him before that, he’d never ordered anything so extravagant.

The server clasped his hands together, a wide smile forming across his pale face. “Of course, Mr. Morris. Is there anything else I can do for you? Appetizers?”

Tom waved the man off. “No. I think we would both like some time to peruse your menu. Thank you for the offer.”

The server bowed and took his leave.

Catherine’s mind was alive with curiosity. The intimate, luxurious ambiance of the restaurant now seemed suspicious, as if they’d been transported into a world of luxury that Tom surely had not meant them to have. At least, he never had before. What was he up to? A seed of doubt took root, casting a shadow over her mind that should have been filled with nothing but pure joy.

On the other side of the table, Tom had pulled out his phone and was typing away, sending a message to an unknown person, which wasn’t unusual. Tom was always conducting some sort of business or answering the questions of various townspeople who phoned him or texted him for advice at all hours.

Catherine’s wandering thoughts trapped her gaze on her normally cheap husband. The selection of the venue, the ordering of the expensive champagne, it didn’t fit into the life she’d known with him. She couldn’t help but feel a nagging sense of unease, and finally, she voiced her concerns.

“Tom.” She kept her voice soft but determined. “Can we talk about something?”

Tom looked up from his phone, his dark brow arching slightly as he sensed the seriousness in her tone. “Of course, dear. What’s on your mind?”

Catherine took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m having a wonderful time, and I truly appreciate the effort you’ve put into making tonight special. But, well, I couldn’t help but notice that the cost of that champagne is not what you would normally spend on such luxuries.”

Tom’s expression shifted from curiosity to understanding. He set his phone on the table and turned to face her fully. “I suppose it is odd for me to order something so above our means normally. Are you worried I can’t afford it?”

Catherine nodded; her gaze fixed on the tablecloth. “Yes. I’m also a little worried about you. This isn’t your normal behavior.” She played with the fabric napkin, folding it between her fingers as she continued to avert her gaze. “I know this is a special occasion, but I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to spend less. I mean, the gas price to get here alone must have been crazy. Do we even have the budget for all this?”

She continued to sit, waiting for him to answer, but Tom remained silent. Finally, she turned her head toward him and raised her eyes to find him staring at her with a smile and something unreadable in his eyes. As her gaze met his, his smile widened.

“I appreciate your concern, sweetheart. I should explain. My decision to celebrate here was made with careful consideration, and I’ve already taken everything into account, so don’t worry your pretty little head over it. How about we just enjoy the evening? When the champagne arrives, you will have a glass to celebrate, and I’m sure that will go a long way to helping you enjoy the evening.”

Catherine smiled, knowing he wouldn’t answer her on the money subject any further. For now, she needed to dissuade her husband’s next line of conversation. “I’m sure it would, but you know I can’t have alcohol with my medication.” Her forehead creased in worry as she bit her lip.

Tom’s lips curled into a playful pout. “Ah, yes, your medication. Always impeding life’s brief pleasures.” He sighed and shook his head as his fingers tapped on the table.

Catherine chuckled. “It’s not just about the medication, Tom. You know I’m a lightweight with alcohol, even without the meds.”

Tom leaned forward, resting his sharp chin on his fist. “Darling, this isn’t just any champagne. It’s a celebration in a glass from France. A symphony of bubbles that dance a tropical tune on your tongue and whisk your worries away. You heard Clint, it’s like joy in liquid form,” he said, apparently trying to entice her into trying it.

Catherine raised an eyebrow; a hint of amusement filled her at his words, and she smiled. “Joy in liquid form, huh? You make it sound like some kind of happiness elixir.”

He nodded, a humorous grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Exactly! An elixir that can transform you from mundane to magical, if only for a moment. You’ll have boundless amounts of fun. After all, I know it makes you more fun to be around.” He sent a sly wink in her direction.

Her cheeks flamed. It didn’t surprise her at all that Tom was probably planning to take advantage of her loopiness later if she were to mix the alcohol with her medication. There were certain things about her husband that she expected. Like his voracious sexual appetite. And not just with her—when she didn’t exactly fall in line with his ideas, he went looking elsewhere.

The reminder of his infidelity left a sour note on her tongue. She didn’t exactly love Tom anymore, but she was married to him, and she believed in her vows. She wanted to try to make things work, and he’d promised her he would be faithful after the last time. So Catherine gazed at him with a mixture of intrigue and caution. “You certainly have a way with words, Tom. But I shouldn’t let your eloquence sway me this time. I already shared a glass of wine with you at home. That is more than I should ever have with this medication.”

Tom feigned a dramatic sigh, placing a pale hand over his heart. “Catherine, sweetheart, you make it sound like I’m trying to lead you astray. All I want is for us to enjoy our anniversary to its fullest. Besides, I’m here at your side, what could actually go wrong other than you loosen up a bit? It’s our fifth anniversary, darling, let’s live a little.” He reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers.

Catherine laughed. “You’re quite the charmer, Tom. I’ll give you that. Alright, I won’t deny that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to taste joy in liquid form.”

Leaning back in his chair, Tom regarded her with a victorious expression. As their animated conversation meandered to an end, Tom shifted slightly in his seat and leaned closer to Catherine. “Excuse me, darling, I need to use the men’s room.” He raised her hand and kissed the back of it before standing.

As Tom walked away, Catherine’s gaze fell on his phone. A subtle curiosity tugged at the edges of her mind, the allure of exploring the digital realm of Tom’s life becoming increasingly tempting. Who was he talking to all the time? And who was so important that he had to answer them tonight of all nights? Her fingers toyed with the fabric of the tablecloth, her thoughts momentarily divided between the present desire to look away and the potential secrets held within the phone before her.

Her gaze flickered to the phone once more, a surge of temptation flooding her senses. Her heart raced with the exhilaration of the forbidden, and with a mixture of anticipation and guilt, Catherine reached for the phone, her pulse quickening as her fingertips brushed against the smooth surface. As she held the device in her hands, a moment of hesitation washed over her. Did she really want to know who Tom had been texting with? Catherine set the phone back down, her sense of propriety ultimately prevailing over her curiosity.

But just as she was about to release the device, a soft vibration shook it in her fingers—the unmistakable alert of an incoming message. Catherine froze, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes widened in surprise. She focused her gaze on the screen; her internal struggle reignited. The message notification illuminated the screen, casting a soft glow on Catherine’s features as she stared at it, torn between curiosity and the guilt that threatened to engulf her.

She glanced toward the bathrooms, then tapped the screen to see who had messaged her husband. Her heart dropped at the name that flashed on the screen for half a second. She regretted looking at it now. She drew her hand back, leaving the phone in its original position.

Tom returned, his smile warm and inviting as he took his seat next to her. “Everything okay, sweetheart?” His voice was laced with concern as he reached for her hand.

Catherine offered him a reassuring smile she didn’t really feel at that moment. “Yes, everything’s fine.” She quickly decided not to let the woman’s text ruin her evening with Tom and brightened her smile. “I was just lost in thought for a moment.”

Tom nodded, his eyes lingering on her for a beat longer before their conversation resumed its natural flow. The waiter returned a moment later with the champagne, and Tom placed their dinner orders, opting for what the host had suggested when they’d first arrived. For the remainder of the dinner, Tom had put his phone away and focused solely on her, his loving gaze lingering on her throughout the meal. Despite the text message and the way her head swam from the champagne, Catherine felt it had been an amazing meal and one of the best nights she’d had in a long time.

“This has been wonderful, Tom,” she murmured as they headed to the car.

Tom squeezed her fingers and tugged her a little, causing her to stumble. “Careful, now, sweetheart, the evening isn’t over yet.”

***

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BOOKS BY COLE BAXTER

His Secret Child

Her Secret Revenge

The Anniversary

Also Available in Audio

The Anniversary (available in the UK and the US)

A LETTER FROM COLE

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Cole Baxter

HIS SECRET CHILD

I stand at my father’s funeral, tears rolling down my cheeks. Someone puts a hand on my shoulder, pulling me into a hug. As I look into the face of a woman I’ve never seen before, she whispers something that shatters my world. “He was my father too.”

Staring into the woman’s glassy gray eyes, I pray that she’s lying. I can’t believe that my steady, dependable father could do this to me. But a hush falls over my family as my ‘new sister’ Ava spills secrets about his hidden affairs and how he bought her silence. Now she’s finally free, she wants to be a part of the family.

But as my relatives welcome her with open arms, I’m certain something isn’t right. Details of her childhood keep changing. And I catch the way she looks at my fiancé, batting her long lashes and touching his well-toned arm. Can this woman be trusted? Does anyone else share my fears? Then, with a snide smile, away from the eyes of my family, she tells me that she knows my own dark secret.

I need to stay silent to keep myself safe. Until I find a crumpled white envelope in my father’s office that makes my blood run cold. What if my father’s death was no accident? Is Ava really here to join our family, or tear us apart?

Ava thinks she knows all my secrets, but she has no idea just how far I’d go to protect the people I love…

Get it here!

PUBLISHING TEAM

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Published by Bookouture in 2024

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eBook ISBN: 978-1-83525-236-9

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.