Deception (Infidelity #3)

“Laide,” he said, turning a large screen my direction. “Here it is. You see the last person to access the documents was your husband over five years ago.”

I shook my head. “That’s not true. I watched Stephen enter our names every time I was here.”

Ralph pursed his lips. “Perhaps I should call Alton? Do you have a driver?”

“Stop it!” I declared. “I was here.”

“Yes, of course. Now, you aren’t driving, are you?”

I narrowed my gaze. “Ralph Porter, I don’t know what you’re trying to do or to pull, but I want you to access those papers. I want to see them this afternoon.”

“They’re in storage and haven’t seen the light of day as I said, for years. It would take one of the paralegals at least a day to locate them.”

I clamped my lips together. “I’m not leaving.”

His head tilted apologetically to the side. “Laide, I would if I could. You don’t have access.”

“What do you mean, I don’t have access? I’m Adelaide Montague Fitzgerald. I’m joint heir to Charles Montague II with my daughter, Alexandria.”

“Dear, we’ve established who you are.”

“As I said two months ago, you will show me those papers or I’ll take Montague’s business somewhere else…” I tried to recall the name of the new firm in town. Surely they’d be happy to gain the Montague business. “Preston, Madden, and Owen.”

Ralph tapped again on his computer and the screen changed. I narrowed my eyes as I made out the top of the page. It was obviously a scan of a paper document. The first line read: Power of Attorney.

“What?” I asked again.

“Laide, this is why you don’t have access.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. We all know. Do as the doctors say. When you’re better—in a better frame of mind—I’m sure we can have the order reversed.”

“My state of mind is fine!”

Ralph touched a button on his phone and Natalie’s voice filled the room. “Yes, Mr. Porter?”

“Natalie, could you please call Mrs. Fitzgerald a cab? And then I’ll drive her car. I can’t in good conscience allow her to drive.”

I stood again, clenching my purse to my stomach. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’m going.”

“Adelaide, I really must insist.”

When he stepped toward me, I backed away. “Do not touch me, Ralph. If you do I’ll leave here and go directly to that new firm and sue your ass for sexual assault.”

He lifted his hands, palms toward me. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me? How did you make that document without my signature? I’d never give up my rights.”

Ralph leaned over the desk and reached for his mouse. Scrolling down the document, two maybe three pages later, he pointed. There it was—my signature. “You did. On this document and on the medical power of attorney. You understood that your husband is in a better state to make your decisions.” He took another step toward me. “Just as you did twenty years ago when you signed over your voting rights on the Board of Trustees of Montague Corporation. It’s what Charles wanted. He wanted someone to take care of you.

“Are you sure I can’t call Alton?”

My mind spun in confusion. “No.” I was less convincing than earlier. “Ralph, I’m perfectly capable of driving.”

“I don’t want to have to defend a DUI lawsuit where you’re deemed incapable of driving.”

“DUI?” I asked. “I’m not under the influence. I have not had a drink all day.”

His eyes went over to the conference table. My breath stuttered as I followed his gaze. On the table was an open bottle of wine. I recognized the label without reading it: Montague Private Collection. The bottle was open with two glasses sitting near, one empty but obviously used with my shade of lipstick on the rim. The other glass was nearly full.

“I understand that this is difficult on you,” Ralph said. “You know that we’re here for you?”

I shook my head slowly, but the tempo increased as I held tighter to my purse. “No! I didn’t have a drink. I didn’t.”

“Mr. Porter,” Natalie said from the doorway. “I’d be happy to drive Mrs. Fitzgerald, and then you can drive her car?”

I turned to Natalie. “Do you remember our conversation about Del Mar?”

She smiled, sweet and sad. “I’m sorry, no. But it is a lovely place. Have you been?”

“Adelaide,” Ralph said, “please give me your keys and we won’t need to mention this to Alton.”

I swallowed as I looked from Ralph to Natalie.

Alton. He’d be mortified that I’d made a scene, even if I didn’t remember making it. Also, he’d question why I was here and possibly learn that I knew about the codicil.

Looking back to Ralph, I said, “Please, please don’t say anything.” I handed him my keys.

Natalie reached for my elbow. “Mrs. Fitzgerald, I’m parked out back. I can take you so no one else sees us leave.”

I nodded as I took one last look at the table. The wine in the glass was red. It wasn’t six o’clock.





CHARLI WAS RIGHT. Not only did I know about Chelsea being in Savannah when she told me, but I knew a lot more. I also knew that my amazing girlfriend had shared more about her past than I had about mine. When Charli simply stared, I asked, “What the hell do you mean?”

“About which part?” she asked, bristling, “About Chelsea being me or your not telling me… anything?”

“Her being you,” I confirmed.

Charli’s lips formed a straight line as she stared at me.

I couldn’t help that I wasn’t ready to delve into my shadows. I hadn’t, not since that terrible night. As long as she was content with what I gave her, why would I want to relive what happened—what I’d done. And if I did open that door and shed light on that past, what would Charli do with that knowledge? What would she do when she knew the monster that I had been?

“I mean,” Charli said, “Chelsea’s living my old life.” She spun from my arms toward the computer. “Here, let me show you some pictures.”

What the hell?

“Chelsea sent you pictures?”

“No. I went to Facebook. I’m almost never on there, but after Millie’s weird email, I had to see.”

She was dropping names like bombs in a war zone. “Charli, calm down. Who’s Millie?”

“She used to be a friend.”

Used to be?

Charli’s large golden eyes peered up at me as her sexy body leaned over the desk and keyboard. In that instant, I noticed how sensual yet sweet she looked. Though I knew she’d been upset, she’d calmed. Her hair was different with lots of long curls, and her face was clear of makeup. For only a second, I wondered why she normally wore it. She didn’t need it. I reached out to touch the auburn curls.

She pulled her head away. “Stop it. I never dried my hair. It looks awful.”

“You could never look awful.” I tried a grin as I pulled gently on one of the spring-like curls wondering if it would bounce. It did. “I like it.”

“Look here,” she said, ignoring my attempt to lighten the mood and pointing to the computer screen.

The picture was of a group of women about Charli’s age, seated in a semicircular booth. I narrowed my gaze as I scanned across the women. By their clothes and the background, it appeared as though they were clubbing. The one on the end caught my eye.

I pointed. “Chelsea?”

“Look at her! She’s never worn a dress like that or done her hair that way. She’s being me!”

I tugged Charli’s hand and pulled her back to me. “No one can be you. There’s only one you, and I’m lucky enough to have you all to myself.” I touched her hair again, petting the ringlets. “And she doesn’t look like you. I mean, look at you. You’re all fun and curly, and she’s all pinned back and stuffy.”

The corner of Charli’s lips moved upward as she took an exaggerated breath. “We’ve switched. I’m living the bracelet, doing what Chelsea would do, and she’s doing what I did.”

The bracelet?