[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 open the message. It is a series of pictures with no words, and while the number is unfamiliar, I recognize my family at once.
Clicking on the first image, I flip through them, my mouth dropping in horror as the progression of images gets increasingly worse.
In the first one, Jayson is sitting at a table with a large birthday cake covered in sparkling candles. In the next, he is receiving a massive slice of cake dripping with strawberry ice cream. Finally, we have Jayson covered in sticky pink goo, and crumbs on his lips.
In each photo, Michael and Evelyn are sitting side by side, his arm around her shoulders with Jayson snuggled between them. A picture-perfect family. The only problem is, if they were such a perfect family, they’d have never given my son any of that food.
“Oh God,” I dial Michael’s number as quickly as I can, but he doesn’t answer. “Damn it, Michael! I need to know what you fed our child!”
Jayson has always been sickly and weak. We eventually discovered that he has a series of allergies, some of which can be life-threatening. In addition to being lactose intolerant, he also has a gluten sensitivity along with a mild tree nut allergy.
Calling Michael again, I leave a message demanding he call me back as soon as he receives it. I just hope Jayson is okay.
My palms are sweating as an hour passes, and then another. Are they at the hospital? Is my son okay?
Three hours after the mysterious text, I receive a short text message from Michael that reads, “Coming home. Bad traffic. Don’t wait up. Love you.”
Frustrated and alone, I head up to bed. By the time Michael eventually returns and shakes me awake, it’s just after midnight.
“Where were you,” I grumble, turning away from him as I struggle to sit up.
“Don’t be mad, Addy,” he turns me for a gentle kiss. “We were on our way back from the park to come home for dinner when we ran into Evelyn,” he looks genuinely contrite as he adds, “She was distraught. She felt so guilty about how things went this afternoon, and about how she ruined your special day. She was worried you were mad at her.”
My brow creases and he nods, as if my current upset is proof of her words. “See,” he touches my nose gently, smoothing the bridge. “Even mentioning her is making you upset.”
“Try to understand, Addy,” he places a hand on my cheek, turning me towards him. “I couldn’t disappoint her, or Jayson. He was so happy to see her. I’d have been a jerk if I said no. So she took us to dinner on the other side of town,” Michael shrugs as if it were no big deal, “I had no idea it was going to take this long. I was trying to get back to you sooner. Can you forgive me?”
I want to forgive him, it's easier to feel in love and secure in our relationship, but something about this situation doesn’t set well with my heart.
He kisses me again, and I’m tempted to give in, but a nagging thought pokes through my mind and I have to say, “But what about three months ago?” I pull away.
“Hey don’t be like that,” Michael pleads as he explains the situation. He and Jayson had been lonely those three days without me, and then Evelyn called out of the blue. It had been forever since he had heard from her, so he and Jayson went to meet her.
“Evelyn had just arrived the day before that picture was taken,” My husband promises. “After you returned, we were both so happy to see you home, that I forgot to mention that we had gone to the carnival.”
He leans in for another kiss but I hold him back. “You still care about her, don’t you.”
There is a pause a bit longer than a heartbeat before he answers. “Of course not, I love you, Addison Stone. I married you, remember?”
He pulls out his phone and scrolls back in his chat history, showing how 3 months ago, he and Evelyn had a brief chat where he did seem not only very surprised by her contacting him but also very lonely…longing for me.
“Now that we have that settled,” he snuggles into me. “How about we talk about something else,” he kisses my neck. “I was thinking, now that Jayson’s 6 and in school full-time,” he wraps his arms around me pulling me into him. “We could consider having that baby we’ve been talking about.”
The heat of his hands through the fabric of my shirt feels so inviting, and the scent of his cologne mixed with his natural musky scent is intoxicating as he brings me closer, and I melt into him, “That would be…”
A violent cough, followed by the unmistakable sound of retching brings me out of my fog as my natural mothering instincts snap me back to reality.
“Jayson!” I call out, pushing my husband aside to rush to his room. When I get there, he is leaning over his bed, the floor covered in vomit the color of pink.
Ice cream gives him a tummy ache, but never anything like this.
“What did you feed him?” I shout as I scoop my son up and take him to the bathroom to clean him. “What did you do?”
“Just some cake and ice cream, some almonds and….”
“So you gave our son gluten, dairy, AND nuts,” My voice cuts through his excuses as I wrap my son in a blanket, barely pausing for my purse, before I rush out into the rain.
“Sweetie, be reasonable, he was fine before and…”
“And you forgot,” I snap. “Because of her.”
Michael stands speechless, holding an umbrella over our heads as we tuck our son into the back of the car and rush to the hospital.
[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]I sit there stunned for a moment, processing his words. "$500,000," I repeat, flabergasted. "Yes," he raises an imperious eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. "Is it not enough? I can go as high as $650,000"As a legal assistant in my family firm, I only make around $120k per year. If I were to dust off my law degree and go back to work full-time as a lawyer, I might make $250,000. Maybe more if I left the family firm to work for one of the more prestigious firms in the city.And this man, this stranger, is offering me twice that just because his niece likes me. It’s a very generous offer. Too generous. There has to be a catch. Nobody gives something like that away for nothing in exchange.“Mr. Grant,” I wipe my eyes one more time with his handkerchief and look at him skeptically, “While I appreciate your offer, what exactly do you want me to do that would be worth $500,000 per year? Do you need a new lawyer?”Looking at his fine suit and jewelry, and his extravagant get-
[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