by C. C. Piper
“I know he took it,” I told her, my own anger escalating. “It’s what he does, Rachel. He rips off ideas and products from other companies because he can’t come up with them on his own. This is how he maintains his wealth. Maybe this is his warped idea of growth.”
“So that makes it all right for you to commit a felony against me?” she asked, and all the air went out of my lungs. “In the extremely unlikely event that you’re correct about my father, let’s look at the facts, shall we? You decided that an intellectual property of yours was so important that you hired people to kidnap me and keep me here.
“You attempted blackmail and coercion, not to mention upturning my life, all for your own selfish purposes,” she went on. “How is what you’ve done any different than what my father or this Hannah woman supposedly did? How is kidnapping a human being better than stealing property? How is seducing me under false pretenses any better than Hannah seducing you?”
It wasn’t. Jesus Christ. As her words sunk in, I realized she was right; everything I’d done had turned out to be horrifyingly similar to what had happened to me. How had I missed seeing that? How had all my misplaced ire festered to such an extreme degree that I’d become capable of not only kidnapping someone, but that I’d actually tried to defend my decision?
“I’m sorry. I regret that I ever involved you, I really do.”
“And you expect me to believe that, to take that for face value?”
“It’s true, though, I swear it is!” I said. “I fell in love with you.”
“I thought I loved you, too, but I don’t. I can’t. The person I thought I was in love with doesn’t exist anymore.” She threw up her hands, making the duvet slip, and she adjusted it back into place. “God, I’m so stupid. I don’t know anything about you that’s real, and yet, I let you into my bed, into my body, into my heart…” Her voice broke.
“Rachel…baby, please…”
She turned on me, her eyes icy pieces of jade, her rage a ten-foot thick shield cutting me off from her. “Don’t you dare call me that. I’m not your baby, and I never will be again.”
With that, she stormed out, slamming my door behind her. I stood there staring at it, absorbing the loss of her like I might a lethal dose of radiation. It had all happened so quickly, and now, I felt shell-shocked more than anything else. I’d feared this outcome, and yet I’d earned it. With every action I took, I’d ensured her ultimate hatred of me.
Blankly, I retrieved the satellite phone and contacted my pilot, giving the coordinates of our location. I turned off everything I felt for long enough to make the appropriate arrangements, then slumped gracelessly to the floor. Once we arrived back in Chicago, Rachel or her family would have the police there to take me to jail.
It was nothing more than I deserved.
I’d become a criminal, a vigilante, who had taken the law into my own hands when my initial attempts at courtroom justice had fallen through. Therefore, I wouldn’t resist arrest or contact my attorney. I’d confess to everything. I refused to lie anymore, to cover anything up, even if it meant I’d be in prison for the rest of my life. I’d made my mistakes and I’d pay for them.
It was the least I could do.
17
Rachel
I gazed out at the sprawling Brisbane Estate and its meticulously landscaped grounds, golf course, and lawn sculptures, and spotted two separate security details prowling the perimeter. It’d been a week since I’d flown back to Chicago on Christoff Green’s private jet. Since I’d finally been allowed to return home.
Well, to my family’s home.
I watched as my mother in her ever-present pantsuit disappeared into the backseat of one of our many family cars. I withdrew into the shadows of the patio, not wishing to be noticed. The last thing I wanted right now was more attention.
I’d arrived alone. When I’d made it clear I didn’t want to see or speak to him, Christoff had followed my wishes, finding another way off the island. I didn’t know how or when he might’ve left, and I told myself I didn’t care. What he did or didn’t do no longer impacted me. He’d tricked me in the worst way possible, and cutting all ties with him only made sense.
What didn’t make sense was my refusal to press charges against Christoff Green. Or to mention his involvement in my abduction to anyone at all.
For the past seven days, I’d said nothing about my kidnapping. I’d said nothing at all about the events that had taken place on that island. I couldn’t say why. When my parents and brother had picked me up, they’d barraged me with questions, but I’d simply told them I didn’t want to talk about it.
Initially, they didn’t fight me on this. Or not to my face at any rate. There was a lot of whispering from behind closed doors followed by tight, fake smiles if I entered the room. After two days went by, my mother hired an in-home therapist. The therapist pushed and prodded, trying to get me to speak, to break my silence, but I wouldn’t. My family wanted to find a way to cope with this, to help me find a way to cope with this, but it was too soon.
I was still processing everything that had transpired.
I couldn’t play Madison, which tore me to pieces. But taking my bow to my cello brought forth so many images from the night Christoff had been the single member of my audience. How his eyes had shone in the candlelight when he’d complimented me, especially on the songs I’d composed myself. How he’d made love to me with so much fervor and attentiveness directly after my little concert.
I tucked her case under my bed.
As time went on, my father became more and more demanding about determining the identity of who was responsible. He had a local police lieutenant, a security escort, and a team of lawyers standing by ready to leave no stone unturned to find my kidnapper, the one responsible for the ransom note.
I’d asked to read the note, curious as to what Christoff had written, but it didn’t sound a thing like him. I couldn’t imagine the man I’d been with on the island composing those words, and especially not the threat contained within. I’d handed my father the note afterwards, feeling numb.
Ever since I’d come back, my mom and dad had insisted I stay in the room I grew up in. The place did hold some happy memories for me, mostly in relation to the hijinks I’d entertained with Drew. Our two bedrooms were connected by a long narrow closet we’d shared; it was a unique architectural feature that allowed us to hide away from everyone else, including our nanny.
We’d found such adventures hilarious.
I sought out the closet, sitting cross-legged in the darkness. I inhaled the scent of wood varnish, cedar, and the plastic smell that comes from clothes bundled in dry-cleaning bags. I listened to the creaks of the large house—it was essentially a mansion—heard the voices of various staff members, and the occasional clang from the kitchen one floor down. Footsteps approached, and I went motionless, not anxious to be found. Still, my quietness didn’t help.
“There you are,” Drew said, the light from his phone so bright I turned away. He sat next to me, resting his head on my shoulder, the subtle fragrance of his shampoo and body wash filling the space.
My twin had rarely left my side since I’d returned. Unlike my father, who’d gone back to work within a day, and my mother, who’d gone back the day after that, he’d dropped everything to be with me, to stay with me. But even my brother, the person I’d always confided in and been closest to, hadn’t been able to convince me to talk about my ordeal.
I felt bad for holding back from him, but I still couldn’t bring myself to discuss it, to speak the name of the man responsible for my five-week absence.
My mother had begged me to go to the doctor to have a physical completed, but I’d told her no. At the time, I’d still carried the proof of our physical relationship—the hickeys Christoff had left on my breasts, stomach, and inner thighs. Those were private; no one else’s business. I’d do everything I could to keep them secret. They belonged to me, even though it broke my heart every time I saw them.
Last night in the shower, I’d noticed that they’d completely faded into obscurity, and somehow, knowing the last remnant of that relationship was now gone for good had somehow managed to break my heart even more.
Drew’s phone lit his face from below as he held it loosely in his palm, not looking at the screen. My brother had always been handsome, always kept up his grooming and dressed nicely. It had been a point of pride with him, an aspect of his personality. So when I glanced over and realized how haggard he looked, I scrutinized him more carefully.
He seemed tired, his hair wet, longer than I’d remembered, and uncombed. Drew had never let himself go like this. Never. How had I been back for a solid week and only now registered his neglected appearance?
“Are you okay, D.B.?” I asked him. He clicked a button on his cell, throwing us into pitch darkness.
“How can you even ask me that?” he whispered, his voice pained, and a wave of guilt washed over me. “I knew you were in trouble, Rach. I could feel it in every molecule of my being, but I couldn’t find you. None of us could. I was so terrified I’d lose you, that I’d never see you again…”
He trailed off, compounding my guilt and adding a giant dollop of shame. I couldn’t continue to keep something that had changed me so drastically from the person I cared about and trusted the most.
“I’m sorry I haven’t told you anything. It’s just been so…difficult.”
“Was it bad? Did they hurt you?”
Christoff had definitely hurt me, but not in the way Drew meant. “No. I was scared, especially that first day, but nothing like what you’re afraid of happened. I was treated really well.”
An image of Christoff gently dripping water over my fevered skin as he held me in the bathtub skittered across my mind. I closed my eyes, but rather than warding the memory off, it brought the expression on his face into stark focus. He’d looked at me with so much tenderness, so much compassion. Before I even realized what was coming, my body fell into loud, shuddering sobs that shook me from head to toe.
My brother switched positions so he could wrap an arm around me, soothing me as I cried. I felt awful for laying this at his feet, for upsetting him, but all I could do was release the sorrow that had been building in me ever since Christoff had told me the truth. The terrible, unforgivable truth.
After all the things he’d said to me, all the falsehoods he’d let me believe, how could I still allow my memories of him to sway me? Why couldn’t I simply forget the kindness he’d shown? How could I let his good deeds matter when he’d used me like a pawn in some chess game I hadn’t been aware I was playing?
I should tell my dad and the authorities what he’d done. I should rat him out big time.
So much of what he’d told me had been a lie, a complete sham. So much of what he’d done had ulterior motives. And yet, something deep down inside of me wouldn’t let me hate him like I wanted to. Like I needed to. That knowledge wouldn’t allow me to prosecute him. It wouldn’t let me hold him accountable for what he’d done, at least not criminally.
And what was that knowledge? It was that he was in love with me, and that I was in love with him.
Which sucked.
Because now, I had no idea how to move forward.
Or if I even could.
Another week passed, and my family celebrated Thanksgiving. Well, celebrated it in Brisbane fashion, with my mom stopping by just long enough to have a bit of turkey and cranberry sauce while my dad greeted us via video conference. As adamant as my father had been about going after my kidnappers, he’d gone bizarrely mute on the subject. I blamed it on myself in the beginning. If I gave him no leads, what else could he do?
But then I thought about it. There were lots of cases where the victims of crimes were either lost or traumatized to the point of being unable to remember pertinent facts. Didn’t the authorities continue to solve the case anyway? Didn’t they go on with their investigations until all the leads had dried up entirely?
If so, why had my father stopped all momentum on the kidnapping of his own daughter?
Not that I wasn’t relieved; I was. I couldn’t bear to imagine Christoff behind bars.
But my dad’s behavior struck me as disingenuous somehow. Did me clamming up about everything give him the excuse he’d been looking for to back off? Call off his dogs? Would I have reacted in that way had it been my daughter?
I couldn’t help but conclude that my own answer would be no. Still, my father must have his reasons. Legitimate ones. Even if I didn’t know what they were yet.
When my brother invited me to accompany him to the office the following Monday, I agreed to tag along. My mind had been full of Christoff, and my inability to play Madison meant I had no outlet for relieving my stress. Once we earned our bachelors, Drew and I would then need to enroll in a program to receive our MBAs, but my brother had already started to learn the ropes from my father. Maybe it was time I did the same.
I’d anticipated my dad being delighted to see me take more of an interest. Up till now, I’d purposefully avoided getting to know the ins and outs of the family business. So when I arrived with Drew, I thought I’d receive a hug. Or at least a smile. Instead, he seemed perturbed by my presence. In fact, he snapped at both my brother and me.
“Andrew, didn’t I warn you about going through the proper channels before you popped in here?”
Still looking more worn out than normal, Drew paused as if dazed before displaying some annoyance. “Oh, yeah,” he answered, then turned to me. “It’s his new protocol.”
“Why do we need a new protocol?” I asked. “If we’re going to be taking over someday, shouldn’t we be allowed access as often as possible?”
“That’s pretty rich coming from you, Rachel. I’ve been trying to cajole you into taking our legacy seriously for years,” my father barked out, and I literally took a step back. He’d always doted on me, spoiled me with whatever material object I’d wanted. Yet now he looked as if he didn’t want me here. Like his own children were intruding on the business that would one day become ours.
A woman stood at his side, her attire professional yet more provocative than I would’ve thought wise. She’d been looking over his shoulder at something on the computer, her hand on his arm. Her posture stiffened and she backed away immediately when Drew and I came in. Her reaction struck me as odd, and though it might be nothing, an impulse seized me to peruse the same records. The second I approached, they both jerked back as though I’d shot them.
Red flags went flying through my head, though I had no idea why. I decided to take some initiative.
“You look familiar, but I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Rachel Brisbane.”
“Hannah Lawrence,” she said, acquiescing to the handshake, and I did my best to conceal my surprise at her name.
“Well, obviously this isn’t a good time for a tutorial.” I glanced at my brother, who thankfully took the hint. “Drew and I will be back later.”
“Just make sure you follow the protocol,” my dad ordered, his eyes on my brother and me as we departed.
“How long has that been going on?” I demanded of Drew once we were far enough from our father’s office.
“Three months, give or take. She’s been here for three and a half years, but lately, she’s become Dad’s right-hand person. He fired Kendra, did you know?”
I shook my head. Kendra had been my father’s personal assistant ever since I could remember, and now she’d been unceremoniously replaced by the much younger and more attractive Hannah Lawrence. The same Hannah Lawrence Christoff had described as a corporate spy.
I hadn’t wanted to consider the possibility that Christoff had been honest about my father. There was no excuse for what he’d done to me, so his reasoning didn’t matter. I hadn’t believed anything he’d said at that point, anyway.
But seeing that Hannah woman right there in Dad’s office made my hackles rise. What if she h
ad stolen information from Christoff at my father’s behest? I didn’t want to believe my dad capable of such a crime as corporate espionage, but Hannah Lawrence being present in his office felt tremendously convenient to me. He’d acted unusually on edge, too, flighty almost.
Surely, this was all some elaborate coincidence. Right?
The idea of such illegal activity happening at Brisbane Industries bugged me all night and into the next day. Finally, I cornered my brother about it.
“Drew, I don’t like that Hannah woman.”
He scowled. “Me neither.”
“Did you ever read my ransom note?” I asked, and my brother lurched his head up and pinned me with his gaze.
“There was a ransom note?”
There was my answer. “Yes. It said I was taken and would only be returned when Dad stopped doing a list of nefarious business practices.”
He shoved a hand through his longer hair. “What practices?”
“Hostile takeovers, false claims on patents, and theft of software and other trade secrets.”
“Shit.”
“What?”
“That explains an email I saw a few months ago. I was in his office, comparing growth among the gaming branch and the retail lines, and I saw a threat of legal action if he didn’t ‘cease and desist immediately.’ I didn’t know what it referenced, and I didn’t have time to study the email for very long because Dad walked in and flew off the handle.” Drew shook his head jerkily. “I wondered about it, thought it was a fluke. But then other random stuff started happening. Kendra getting fired. Hannah taking on a much more active role. Dad’s secretive behavior. I don’t know.”
I could tell he wasn’t telling me the full story. “I know there’s more.”
He narrowed his eyes at me as if to say I hadn’t exactly been forthcoming myself, but I didn’t let him divert me. Finally, he gave in, his gaze going to his cuticles as if they were the most fascinating things in the world. “I think Dad’s having an affair.”
