Fidelity (Infidelity #5)

With her head on my chest, Charli said, “Whether you want to admit it or not, you are Prince Charming.”

Stroking her still-damp hair as the scent of flowers filled my senses, I wished I was, but I wasn’t. For her I’d do my best, but I wasn’t the pure-hearted Disney prince. I knew evil.

I also knew that she did too. I’d stared him in the face earlier tonight when he entered the room at the police station. He’d been unhappy with my answer, sure that I’d take his offer. Not only didn’t I take it, I pushed him on showing the video footage of the mansion—of him manhandling Charli into the car. By the time the detective returned, the video footage was no longer available and the charges were dropped.

I wasn’t na?ve enough to believe that Alton Fitzgerald was done with me, but I took the opportunity to leave Savannah.

As Charli’s breathing began to even, I whispered, “No, I’m not Prince Charming. I’m Batman.”

She rolled into me, wrapping her soft leg over mine. With the sunlight that was peeking through the slats of the blinds, I watched her cheeks rise just before she fell sound asleep.





I BLINKED MY eyes, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. It was as if each time I opened my eyes, the scene was different.

I scanned the room, careful not to move my head, apprehensive of where I was or who was watching. From what I could see, once again I was in a room I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t my suite at Montague Manor, nor was it the blue walls of hell. Slowly, I turned my head. The movement hurt. Not my head—it wasn’t a migraine—but instead it was my body. Everything hurt.

Each breath tugged at my midsection as if I were wearing something tight—a bodice? I couldn’t comprehend the pressure or pain, but with it my breathing came faster and shallower. Each breath hurt more than the last.

Biting my lip, I consciously slowed my respiration. Again closing my eyes, I tried to remember what had happened. There were sporadic recollections, but nothing with enough detail to fill in the blanks. The memories were a hodgepodge of faces and voices. Past and present intertwined and interspersed until chronological order ceased to exist. Putting it together was like making sense of a mound of puzzle pieces that could create a thousand separate finished pictures. The sizes were too similar—their appearance, scent, and even the feel of them in my hand. I couldn’t possibly decipher which one belonged to which puzzle.

What was recent? What was past?

I recalled Jane. She’d been with me in that terrible blue room. My pulse thumped in my veins, accentuated by beeps, as our conversation came back. She’d said something about Alexandria, that her presence hadn’t been a dream. Having my daughter near me wasn’t what had upset me. It was when she’d said something about Bryce Spencer and Alexandria’s engagement party.

My eyes snapped open again.

I wasn’t sure where I was, but I needed to stop Alexandria from marrying Bryce. It wasn’t right. Though I’d asked her to do it numerous times, I couldn’t let her sacrifice her life as I had mine. My parents had encouraged me to do what was needed for Montague, but now that I knew the truth, I wouldn’t do that to my daughter. I’d been wrong to try. She deserved a better life than what I had.

I remembered the codicil. She didn’t need to. Alexandria could be free as I never had been, as Alton had never wanted her to know.

A sense of relief came over me at the clarity that accompanied my thoughts. They were more precise than they’d been in ages, and yet I still had glimpses of the past.

Oren, to be exact.

It had been years since I’d seen him and yet it seemed as if it were more recent. Had it been my dreams? In that terrible blue place, I’d dreamt about him. Not only had he been my refuge for a short time in life, but apparently he also would be forever in my subconscious.

The beeps increased as I contemplated Alexandria. I needed to call her. I needed to move. I painfully twisted my body from side to side. First, I needed to sit. Squinting my eyes, I searched for the buttons to raise my bed. My hand rose, seeking the controls. It was then I realized it wasn’t bound. Had I imagined that? Had someone really restrained me?

My fingers fumbled for the railing.

Wherever I was, I was still in a hospital bed.

As I searched for the button, I noticed the large window to my left. The room around me was bright, filled with light—not just light but sunshine. It was yet another clue that I was out of the terrible place. In that horrible blue room the drapes had always been closed.

“Ms. Montague?”

I turned toward the woman’s voice.

Was this heaven, what I’d prayed for? Had God finally granted my wish and changed my name in the process?

Tears filled my eyes, spilling over onto my cheeks as both relief and grief swirled through me.

If this was heaven, my life was over. I was dead.