[Addison]
It is hard to keep my smile from cracking as Michael approaches, but somehow I manage to keep my expression sunny as I make my way over to my family.
“Addy,” Michael said, out of breath, placing a hand on my shoulder and frowning as he looked up at the decorations. “Why are you here? I thought you had a case to work on.”
“I promised Jayson we’d have a special day,” I replied with a grin, glancing down at my son, who was clinging to Evelyn’s hand, avoiding my gaze. “So I shifted things around. I mentioned it last week…”
“It’s fine,” Michael interrupted, his voice casual. “I just wasn’t expecting you. I was in the neighborhood when I learned Evelyn was interviewing nearby.” He smiled at her, his tone overly friendly for two people who clearly had a past.
“Mommy, why are you ruining my birthday?” Jayson’s voice cracked with anger as he looked up at me. “Mama Evelyn was going to take us for ice cream! And a barbecue! And get me presents…”
I blinked, shocked. “Mama Evelyn?” I raised an eyebrow, glaring at Michael, who blushed and quickly looked away. “Excuse me?”
“It’s just a silly nickname,” Evelyn quickly dismissed, kneeling to hug Jayson. “Right, little bear?”
Jayson smiled, leaning into her embrace, and my heart sank. He never cuddled with me like that anymore.
“I made your favorite dinner, and we have treats waiting at home. You can’t have ice cream, remember?” I said, trying to keep my voice light.
“You never let me do ANYTHING!” Jayson shouted, pushing me out of the way as he ran off towards the playground where the other students were coming out for recess.
Michael’s face turned red with frustration. “I’ll get him back here,” he grumbled, storming off after Jayson.
“Michael, remember, he’s just a kid,” I called after him, but he was already gone. If I weren’t in these impractical heels, I’d have followed them.
“Oh, let them be,” Evelyn said, crossing her arms. “Michael knows how to handle him.”
I turned to her, my patience thin. “This is a family matter. I don’t see how it concerns you.”
Smiling sheepishly, Evelyn holds out her hand. “I guess I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Evelyn Valentine, an old college friend of Mikey,” she uses my husband’s old nickname and I cringe. Nobody’s called him that since college.
“Oh, I know who you are,” I smile back, struggling to keep my tone civil. “Michael told me all about you before we got married.”
Her face blanches and her smile fades but only for a moment before she tosses her long blonde hair over one shoulder, showcasing her elegant swan-neck as she flashes me an even more dazzling smile. “Silly me, of course.”
She then tilts her head to one side, then the other. “It’s strange how much you look like me,” she laughs, “We could almost be sisters. Wouldn’t that be something?”
It feels like she’s trying to press salt into a wound as if I needed it pointed out that I’m like a poor copy of the original. The first time I found her picture in his wallet by accident, I cried.
“It’s just a memory from the past,” he had told me just before covering it with our wedding photo. “See, now it’s fixed.”
Michael had convinced me that he preferred how much down-to-earth and approachable I am. But now, standing next to her, I feel…faded, plain, dull.
Taking a deep breath, I set my smile again and try my best to be pleasant. “So, you’re staying in town for a while?”
“Oh yes, I’m actually going to be a teacher at this school,” her eyes flash brightly as she confesses her exciting news. “That means I’ll be seeing both Michael and Jayson a lot more. I hope this won’t be a problem.”
Her tone isn’t exactly unfriendly, but it doesn’t feel kind either. As I stand there, not sure what to say, her lips curve at the edges, daring me to say something.
I don’t even get a chance to respond before Michael calls me. “Jayson is still upset. I think I need to calm him down first. I’ll bring him home later.”
Guilt creeps in—did I upset Jayson just now? I frown and ask, “All right. You’ll be back for dinner, right?”
Michael assures me before quickly hanging up.
With a sigh, I have no choice but to drive home alone.
On the way, my mind drifts to the past. I’ve been by Jayson’s side ever since Michael brought him home—an abandoned baby left in a basket by the dumpster.
I fell in love with him instantly. From the moment his little eyes locked with mine, I became his mother.
He was a sickly child, with so many issues and illnesses, so I put my career on hold to stay near him, working part-time at Michael’s firm. We even put off having more children so that Jayson could have all of our attention.
“Let’s wait,” he asked the last time I brought up the subject. “Just a little while longer.”
I agreed to wait before having a child of my own because I wanted to give Jayson all the love he deserves.
As soon as I get home, I head straight to the kitchen to make a snack for my son when he comes back home.
“I’ll leave them in his room, near his new presents, so he can have both at the same time.”
As I finish arranging the food on his plate, my phone beeps.
It's a text from Michael. “Sorry babe, I didn't want to disturb you.Jayson is starving so I've taken Jayson for a quick dinner. See you at night.”
“Oh,” I look around at the party I’ve prepared. Balloons and streamers decorate every surface, and a pile of presents sits next to the table.
“I guess we’ll meet up at dinner," I sigh, as I walk around the house, picking up Jayson’s things from school.
I feel guilty about how the afternoon started. I wanted to make it special, but I seem to have just made things worse.
Maybe if I leave him a little treat he'll forgive me.
Smiling at the thought of his reaction when he finds the treat, I place one of his favorite allergen-free cupcakes on his nightstand to find later when he gets home.
But my skirt knocks over the book of fables that Michael reads to Jayson every night at bedtime. Carefully I pick it up, trying to preserve the page they marked with a long thin piece of paper.
“Where did they…?”
As I pick it up to put it back into the book, I notice It’s one of those long strips of photos you get from a photo booth. Micahel is holding Jayson on his shoulders and standing next to a smiling blonde woman who looks up at both of them with love and affection.
“Mommy and Daddy,” the picture says on the back. The time stamp on the corner says this image was taken 3 months ago.
Except that the "mommy" isn’t me.--It’s Evelyn.
What is going on?
[Addison]What was happening three months ago when I didn’t notice my husband sneaking off with our son to have adventures with his “old friend?”My heart sinks like a stone as I remember. I was in Brooklyn taking care of my sick grandmother, arranging for her nursing care. I was gone for three days. Every night, I called home to say good night, no matter how tired I was. Never once did he mention Evelyn. If I hadn’t shown up today when I did, would he have ever let me know she is back?I send a text with a quick snapshot of the photo strip. I type the word “explain.”Sitting there, staring at the screen, waiting for a response, my head tips back and I lean against Jayson’s bed. My body feels heavy so heavy that I close my eyes.When I open them again, the room is dark, the phone vibrating against my chest waking me. I must have fallen asleep because the clock now reads 8 pm. “Michael!” I open my phone hurriedly only to discover a text from an unknown number. Tapping the screen, I o
[Addison]My little boy looks even smaller in a hospital bed with an IV attached to his arm. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Stone, but your son’s condition is serious. He is suffering from an intense allergic reaction,” the Doctor’s face is grim. “If he had gotten here an hour sooner, we could have prevented the severe dehydration. We were lucky this time that the reaction wasn’t worse.” “Worse?” My voice warbles as Michael looks away, unable to my gaze. “How much worse?”“If he had developed anaphylaxis, he’d be dead,” the doctor’s tone. “You’re lucky his heart didn’t stop on the way here. As it is, he’ll need to remain in the hospital for 24 hours for observation.” Our son could have died, all because my husband couldn’t bear to disappoint his ex-girlfriend. Michael volunteers to pay the bill and grab the new prescription for an emergency epi-pen. “I’ll be back soon, I promise,” he kisses the top of my head before rushing out of the room as if the sight of our sick son could chase him down the
[Addison] The door to the car clicks open. An expensive Italian loafer is followed by the pinstriped leg of an elegant and sophisticated man. He towers over me, at least 7 inches taller and twice as wide, his strong arms and shoulders barely contained within the jacket of his well-tailored suit. From the Rolex at his wrist to the studs in his ears, and the ring gleaming on his hands, everything is diamond bright, as sharp and fine as the cut of his square chin and the angle of his high cheekbones. “Excuse me,” his smooth voice, deep and rich, rumbles through my body, as he removes his sunglasses and looks at me with eyes so blue they appear almost black. “I can take her from here.” Holding out his hands, his cold facade melts as he looks at the little girl with such love and concern that I find myself melting as well. But she doesn’t go to him, she clings to me even tighter. “Mom,” the little girl murmurs, burying her head into my chest. “I found my mommy.” “You little monster
[Addison]Everything hurts, especially my head which aches as I open my eyes and turn my head. Michael is sitting next to me, his eyes bright with excitement as he reaches forward and pulls my hand towards his, kissing it gently. “Oh good, you’re awake,” he grins brightly, “You had me worried.”“Michael, what happened?” the strange lights burn my eyes as I blink awake. “How did I end up in the hospital? I…” “You’re pregnant, Addy!” The smile on his face widens as he scoots closer to the bed. “After all this time! Can you believe it!”Pregnant? I can’t be pregnant. I was going to leave Michael, but if I’m pregnant, that changes everything. “The doctors say you are entering your third month,” his joy shines brightly, as he babbles about all of the things he wants to do for our new little one–designing a nursery and getting all the best things. “We need to set up your prenatal appointments and get a baby monitor and find a nanny and….” He wants to be a father again so badly. I was so
[ Addison ] The violent sound of tires screeching around the corner wakes me as my body jerks upward, slamming into the backseat with so much force that I feel I might be sick.Inhaling deeply, the scent of mold and stale cigarettes makes my nausea worse. Swallowing bile I fight not to throw up, my stomach churning as we hit another bump.“Oh look who’s awake,” a familiar voice coos. Twisting my head, I see Evelyn sitting in the car, not bound like me. She’s not gagged, her face untouched. She looks fresh, almost jubilant. What is she doing here?Where’s Jayson? Where’s my son? Was he hurt?“Looking for Jayson?” she smirks, ripping the tape from my mouth. A tear rolls down my cheek as the tape pulls at my skin.“Where’s my son?” I cry, glaring at her. “What did you do to him? He’s just a child!”“He’s fine,” the driver interrupts curtly. “He’s at home.”Evelyn pulls out her phone and shows me a picture of Jayson playing with the nanny. “See? Nothing to worry about.”“Where are you ta
[Addison]"What a shame," the man from the shadows steps forward and I finally get a good look at the goon who drove the car. He is handsome in a traditional kind of way, slick like second-rate CEO with his slicked back hair and tailored suit. Wheh he grins, he shows too many teeth, like a monster lurking in the dark.Kneeling before me, he grabs my chin and turns it from side to side. "Such a pretty little thing. It looks like you've been discarded. Just another broken doll."His breath is hot on my neck as he leans forward, his hand snaking down the front of my blouse. "I like broken things."Crying for him to leave me alone I spit in his face, a mixture of saliva, snot, and blood. He laughs, cutting the binding at my feet so he can push his body between my legs, not caring about the trail of blood.I kick and buck, screaming as he grabs my breast squeezing, another hand reaching up my skirt as he laughs at my efforts. "So much fight left! Good, I get to break you some more..."The
[Addison]“I’m so sorry, Addison,” the doctor placed a hand on my shoulder as she said her farewells. “Would you like us to call your husband or would you…”Shaking my head I told her not to bother. If he had cared about me or this child he’d have saved us in the warehouse. He’d have come back for us, or at least checked in on me after he was informed I was taken to the hospital. But I haven’t heard or seen anything of my husband in the three days I’ve been in the hospital receiving blood transfusions and recovering from the miscarriage and injuries. My body is slowly starting to heal–but my broken heart and shattered mind will never be the sameI am trapped within the loop of memories as I struggle to make sense of what happened that night. My son was so desperate to go outside and play, more insistent than usual. He was so persistent and didn’t ease up until we went out together only to have him run off away from me and out of sight as soon as I opened the door.Why? And then the
[Addison]The man steps forward into the light carrying an impossibly large bouquet of lilies in a fine, crystal vase. As our eyes connect, a warm wave of gratitude rolls through me as I recognize him instantly. “It’s you,” I murmur, my heart lifting. “The man from the warehouse.”The gentleman frowns, his face pinched with worry. “You must be mistaken. I haven’t been to any warehouses recently.” I know I’m not mistaken. The man in the warehouse took off his mask as he caught me. He looked just like him. The same eyes, the same jawline. “I’m sure I’m not mistaken. You’re the one who rescued me from the kidnappers.” His laughter is like a clear, brass bell that rings through the room. “Mrs. Stone, I assure you that you are mistaken. You were rescued by a special-ops unit that was investigating those kidnappers for having mob connections. I am not a federal agent,” he shakes his head. “Far from it, I run a multi-billion dollar trading company. I’ve never stepped foot in a warehouse.”
[Addison]Looking up into Hunter’s deep blue eyes, I’m unsure if I’ll ever be okay again. For a moment neither one of us moved, both looking just as unsure of what to do next as the other. Blinking, I take a shuddering breath. “It’s okay, Hunter, I…it was just a bit startling.” “Livy, you need to be more careful,” he reprimands her gently, his voice taking that soft touch he only has for her. “I know you are just being affectionate, but you could have hurt one of us. You scared me, Livy, and poor Miss Addison. That was too much.” “But I wanted a hug too,” she blinks innocently enough. Maybe all she needed was a hug. Maybe that’s all I needed too because I still haven’t stepped out of his arms.“Did I hurt you, Auntie,” her large hazel eyes look up at me innocently, although I see a touch of mischievousness around the corners of her mouth when she adds, "I'm sorry, Auntie Addison. I can kiss it to make it better.” Livy leans forward and places a small kiss on my waist. “Now Uncle
[Addison] The rose petals brush my fingers as I take the bouquet from Hunter, their gentle kiss like silk against my skin. “These are for me?” I stumble over my words, my heart rate spiking as I force myself to grasp the long, thornless stems. “Why?”The questioning uncertainty in my tone wilts the edges of Hunter’s smile as the shine in his eyes dims. “I was wrong, for bringing in Professor McCannon without your consent.”He seems genuinely sorry. If it had been any other flower, I'd have been more gracious in accepting them. Feeling guilty, I look away.Did Hunter know how this would affect me? Did he do this on purpose tit?“Ah,” I nod, swallowing hard as I look down at the flowers. They’re beautiful, the brightest shade of yellow I’ve ever seen, sprigs of lavender and baby’s breath mixed within, enhancing their natural sweet scent. Whoever put this bouquest together did so with meticulous care. I just wish I could appreciate their efforts. But I can't. TheBut I can’t stand to
[Addison]I was still more than a little upset at Hunter for his stunt today with Professor McCannon. How could he set me up like that? I begged him not to include him in my mess, and yet Hunter Grant, like always, decided he knew what was best.He means well, but he needs to be better at communicating his intentions. "You should go back to school," the professor advised. "Complete your master's degree. You shouldn't have ever left school just because Michael wanted you to." I had always intended to go back after Jayson got a bit older, I explained, "And now I have a job, I have Livy to watch, and I don't think I'll be able to find the time.""Nonsense," McCannon waves away my excuses. "Sometimes you need to be a bit selfish, and that time is now. If not now, then when? How much of your life are you going to put on hold for other people?"I hadn't thought about it that way but I guess the professor is right. "I don't know, professor, I'll think about it," I promise. "I don't want any
[Hunter]“Mr. Grant!” I hear her voice call out even one floor up. “You jerk! Come out and talk to me!”Snickering, I look up at Reggie, who shakes his head. “She isn’t wrong, you know.” When I raise a defiant eyebrow he shrugs, smirking. “What, Hunter, I call it as I see it. You know that. It’s one of the reasons you like me. Besides, sir, you know you could have given her a heads up before she came in this morning so that she could be prepared.”“I honestly had no idea that she was being sincere when she said she didn’t want him here,” I make a weak attempt at excusing my behavior. “I thought she was being humble.” Now it is Reggie’s turn to raise an eyebrow and I groan. “Alright, you got me. I owe her an apology.” “Flowers or jewelry?” Reggie’s face is deadpan. He’s serious. “Or something larger? Maybe a new car, a villa.” “We aren’t a couple, Mr. Carter,” My face burns as I turn away from him, shuffling papers from the right side of my desk to the left waiting for him to look s
Do I still love Michael Stone?Michael swears he still loves me, that there is nothing between him in Evelyn, that my family needs me, that I need him.But do I still love my husband?Thinking of everything he’s done, everything he plans to do makes my blood boil and my vision turn red. The embarrassment I felt as each interview went sour because he was determined to keep me at his side, the shame and hurt I felt at losing my family fortune. How can I love someone who treated me so cruelly?And yet, how does one start over after caring with all your heart for more than half a decade. I put everything that I have into this family--heart and soul. It is hard to set something that is deeply ingrained within me aside, and even harder to deny it. “Maybe," I admit, although it shames me to do so. "I wish I could just throw it all away, but how can I? There was love there, Professor, once. I don't want Michael anymore, but part of me might always love him." “That’s unfortunate,” the old
[Addison]The elevator closes and then descends, taking Charley with it. I receive a text immediately after from her, stating that she'll meet me at the reception desk tomorrow for the rest of our orientation. Fuming, I turn back towards my current situation. The professor is watching me patiently, waiting to see my next move. I know he's analyzing me even now, judging me in his intuitive way. My skin crawls under his scrutiny even as I turn away, looking up and down as if the solution to my situation were in the ceiling or floor. I thought Hunter and I were becoming friends. But friends don’t set other friends up for emotional abuse. Friends don’t hold each other hostage, denying them the chance to leave the building. Friends don’t do…whatever it is Hunter Grant is doing by bringing me to this apartment to be alone with my professor. He’s going to hear from me. This whole situation is absolutely infuriating. I didn't sign up to come in and be harrassed by my old professor. “M
[Addison] I’m not sure that I heard her right, so I ask Charley to repeat herself. “Mr. Grant says he needs you to complete onboarding before you leave and to check in with payroll to make sure everything is in order,” Charley tries to smile, but it looks strained and unnatural, her cheeks trying too hard to make her lips stretch pleasantly across the mountainous peaks of her perfect cheekbones and chiseled jawline. She’s almost aggressively masculine in her beauty, and it is clear that she is used to making her way through life using her muscles and her wit more than her charm. “Fine,” I sigh, forgiving her for relaying his message. It’s not like Charley had any say in her orders. She’s just doing her job. At least he isn’t asking me to talk it out with the bully professor. I don’t know if my psyche could take another go around with him. I don’t know why that man hates me so much. It always felt personal, as if I were somehow slapping him across the face every time I did
[Addison] The elderly man stood a bit straighter, scanning me with his critical eye in the way he does a law brief, meticulously and with the ability to see everything. As if he has been frozen in time these last 5 years, nothing about him has changed--not his tattered tweed suit or the way he looks down his nose at you, inspecting you like one might ponder a particularly nasty problem to be solved. When people think of the autistic savant, the person with no emotional tact but with a keen mind that can see what others cannot, they could be discussing Professor Magnus McCannon. My teacher, mentor, and the hardest professor I ever knew. I was considered smart. Very smart. It was the reason I was admitted into law school so young, after completing my undergrad studies. I entered Harvard Law with perfect grades and several letters of recommendation. But my mind is nothing compared to Professor McCannon’s. As a child he was deemed a super genius, his complex mind and his ability
[Addison] Have you ever noticed those moments in your life where making a choice could change the path of your future forever? That day when I dashed forward to save Olivia had been one of them. Trusting my son as he led me into that alley had been another. And now, as the smooth, cold bar of the door handle on the tall glass door leading into Grant Group warms under my hand, I know this is another one. As I step inside, my feet clatter on the long expanse of modern slate tile, dark and bold, making the metallic fixtures and white walls gleam even brighter. The words, “Grant Group,” glow on the wall above a receptionist's desk, where a security guard stands near a metal detector and an elevator entrance requiring a key card. The security is tight, but this doesn’t surprise me knowing Hunter Grant. What surprises me, I guess, is the reception that I receive. As soon as the receptionist hears my approach, the young man comes forward from behind his desk. Bowing he holds out a b