“Everything!” I had to stop myself from lunging at her. “Everything is wrong with that.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Excuse me?”
“You had security.”
“Plenty of people grow up in horrible circumstances, Jordana. You’re not the only one. But not everyone does what you did. At least you had parents. I never even knew mine.”
“You were lucky.”
“What?” My head jerked back.
“I said, you were fucking lucky! Okay? Is that what you want to hear?” Her voice was suddenly loud and urgent. And then she whispered, “I was jealous.”
“Jealous of me?” I almost laughed at the absurdity.
“Yes.”
“That’s ludicrous.”
“Is it? You had a grandmother who loved you. A nicer house than mine to live in. You never had to worry that if you said one false word, your father might give you a black eye.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s okay to rob someone. I helped you that night. I saved your ass. You don’t remember that?”
“I do.”
“And here you were living this big fancy life in New York City.”
“Kerrie—”
“No, shut up,” I interrupted. “Believe me, I know it was tough, because I saw some of what went on in your house. And I still wanted to be just like you. I idolized you.”
“I still don’t understand why you came here and made up a new name. You could have just asked me for the money and the ring back and been done with it.”
“Done with it?” I balked. “You killed my nana!”
“Killed your nana?” She took two steps backward. “What are you talking about? Are you out of your mind?”
“You left the gas on.”
“What?”
“When you lit your cigarette. You didn’t turn the gas all the way off. There was a fire. My nana died from smoke inhalation.” I held her gaze, challenging her to deny it. “You did that to her. You are responsible.”
She didn’t say anything.
“And now you’re going to suffer the way I did. I applied for this job so I could sabotage your life, the way you did mine. When I saw you on Access New York, it sparked something inside me. I knew that if I wanted to set myself on a better path, that I had to get back at you before I could move forward. I also knew that I had to honor my nana and all that you took from her.”
“I . . . I don’t . . .” she stammered.
“Don’t say anything.”
“Kerrie . . .”
“No.” I held up my hand. “I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth.” I thought I would. I thought I’d want her to grovel. But I didn’t. I’d finally satisfied my objective and that was enough. Well, except for one more little thing. “I also had a letter messengered to your husband. It explains who you really are, where you really came from, and what you did to me that night. He should be receiving it”—I checked my watch—“right about now.” I waited a beat as she processed this new information. “I wonder how long it will take for such explosive secrets to reach the rest of the Richie-Riches. What do you think? An hour, tops?”
“I . . .” She started to speak again, but I cut her off a second time.
“Good-bye, Jordana. I truly hope you get everything you deserve,” I said.
And then I turned my back on her and walked away.
41 JORDANA
As I boarded the plane, I thought about what I’d done to Kerrie all those years ago. And what kind of person that makes me. I also thought about John, what he’d done, and the litany of lies that had been sustaining us for too long.
My husband isn’t just a philanderer.
He’s a thief.
And with that realization, the storm subsided and the future became cloudless.
John’s files revealed dozens of spreadsheets exposing that he’d helped Arthur defraud customers on bond prices by altering electronic chats to make it appear he’d paid more for bonds than he actually did. It sounds complicated, which it is, but the bottom line is that he and Arthur generated fifteen million dollars in illegal profit for A. Doonan, LLC. I guess he really was with Arthur all those work weekends.
It’s one thing to be blind to the faceless. To deafen yourself to the voices you can’t hear. His personal affairs were inconsequential. But this is different. My husband is a crook.
I knew immediately what I had to do.
It turned out that the things that seemed the most important were precisely the things that weren’t important at all. And that the determination that once impelled me forward was actually hindering me from attaining true happiness.
I found my seat in first class, by the window, and relaxed into it.
“Can I offer you a glass of white wine?” the stewardess asked.
“That would be nice, thank you,” I answered softly. “Do you want one too, Mom?”
She turned toward me. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“Live it up a little.” I smiled at her. “And don’t worry, it comes with the ticket.”
“Okay, then.” She smiled back.
“Two glasses of white wine coming up.” The stewardess walked away. She didn’t recognize me, thank God. She probably doesn’t read The Wall Street Journal.
It may be hard to believe, but in a way, I have Kerrie to thank. Her revelation was the final push I needed, although I would have preferred it to be on my own terms. John doesn’t love me. He doesn’t know how to love. Neither do I.
John isn’t a cruel man. Nor is he an exceptionally kind one. We served a purpose in each other’s lives. He’ll miss the me he thought I was. For a little while. Then he’ll find a replacement. Someone younger and more submissive.
Being Jordana Pierson has wearied me. And now things must change. They will change. But only if I’m the one to make that change. There’s no turning back and there’s no standing still. I scrambled to get where I am. I convinced myself that it would be sunny at the top. Only it isn’t. It’s fucking freezing. And I’m alone.
Once upon a time I was the girl who ran. Of course, I thought I was chasing something bigger. Something better. And I thought that bigger, better life would finally make me happy. I was wrong.
I won’t make the same mistakes again.
“Passengers, please turn off all electronic devices and fasten your seat belts,” the pilot’s voice said over the loudspeaker. “Flight attendants, prepare for departure.”
I closed my eyes and took my mother’s hand in mine. “This time we’re running together,” I said to her. “The next chapter in our lives begins now.”
42 KERRIE
A few days after the wedding—yes, William did go through with marrying Tatiana—I sat on my couch, staring at the headline on the front page of the New York Post, which declared: DOONAN IS DOOMED. The photo below it was of Arthur being hauled off in handcuffs with Caroline, venomous as always, in tow.
Behind them was John Pierson. Shackled as well. And all alone.
The article explained that they’d been charged with ten counts of securities fraud and six counts of relaying untrue statements to multiple clients, including large institutional investors. It said that the case was precedential because they’d been prosecuted for falsifying their own prior purchase price. Very clever. Until it wasn’t.
On the next page, there was another snapshot. It pictured Tatiana and William, beneath a banner that read: BLUNT BLUSHING BRIDE ANNULLED.
I couldn’t believe it. But before I had the chance to read the full story, my phone vibrated with a text message from Sara, who ended up receiving over a dozen lucrative job offers as soon as the news about Arthur and John broke. Unexpectedly, she’s back on the fence about leaving Dante to work full-time.
Meet me downstairs in five. Joel is home early. Let’s grab a drink.
Just as I was about to write back, my buzzer rang. I walked over to the intercom and pressed the button. “Hello?”
“Is this Kerrie O’Malley?”
“Who’s this?”
“My name is Cathy Paulson. I’m an old friend of Jordana’s. I have some things she left for you.”
“Sorry, but I don’t need anything from her.”
“It’ll only take a minute. I come in peace. I really think you’ll want this stuff.”
“I highly doubt it.”
“Please. Nothing fishy, I swear.”
“Okay. I guess,” I relented, and reluctantly let her in. A minute later she was at my door.
“Can I come inside? I promise I won’t be long.”
“Sure.” She looked harmless enough, like an old hippie, so I took a few steps back. I didn’t offer her a seat.
“This belongs to you.” She placed a small velvet pouch in my palm. I knew immediately what it was.
“I can’t believe she kept it all these years.” I shook my head as I examined my mother’s ring and tears flooded my eyes.
“Apparently her mom did.”
“Wow.”
“There’s this, too.” She handed me a check. “Jordana said the amount will cover the money she took from you, with interest.”
“Thank you.” I nodded.
“One more thing.” She gave me a thick manila envelope.
“What’s this?”
“You’ll see.” She stood there for a moment and then said, “She’s not a bad person.”
“I think that depends on your definition of bad,” I replied. “Either way, she seems to live a pretty charmed life, so it’s hard to feel too sorry for her.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Can they?”
“I’ve known Jordana since she moved here when she was a terrified seventeen-year-old-girl. I’ve watched her transform herself into a completely different person over the last two decades. She’s had some high highs and some very low lows. I’ve had to peel her off the floor more times than I care to recall. I bet you didn’t know that.”
“No.”
“I’m not expecting you to pity her. I know what she did to you. I’m only telling you that she’s troubled. She always has been and she probably always will be. I’m just glad she finally left.”
“Left what?”
“That disgusting husband of hers. That ridiculous facade of a life.”
“She’s gone?”
“Oh yeah. After your confrontation, she came straight to me and then went directly to the airport.”
“Where did she go?” I hadn’t expected that. I don’t know why. I suppose once a runner, always a runner.
“I don’t know.”
“I doubt that.”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really.”
“What about the company?”
“It’s all in the folder. You’ll see. I’m not sure she appreciated your approach, but she obviously had great faith in you, even after everything.” She smiled faintly. “If you ask me, you did her a favor.”
“How so?”
“She wouldn’t have survived in that world for much longer. It was eating her alive. She was ready to go. Just scared. Deep down, she knew it. I’m glad you did too.” Cathy turned toward the door, which was still open. “I’ll be going now.”
“Thank you for all of this.”
“You’re welcome.” She paused for a second and then looked back at me. “For what it’s worth, Jordana really liked you.”
EPILOGUE
Three months later, I sat at my desk half expecting Jordana to storm into the office and declare that it was all a mistake. That I’m the one who has to leave. But that never happened. Though the business is thriving, she has yet to return, and I doubt she ever will.
While there is a part of me that misses working with her, my sense of satisfaction at running the show buoys me even more. I finally found the purpose I’ve been seeking for so long.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this journey, it’s that life doesn’t follow a premeditated pattern. You can’t control your destiny.
Do I forgive Jordana? I don’t know. I do feel sorry for her, though, and I hope she finds what she’s looking for.
Inside the envelope Cathy gave me, there was paperwork from Jordana indicating that her payback to me—in addition to the money and the ring—was the company she grew from the bottom up. It’s now called Olivia Lewis Wedding Concierge. I think it has a nice ring to it. So did Lucy Noble and Donald Cooper and Alexa Griffin and Grey Wilder. They stuck with me, despite Jordana’s absence, because I’m good at what I do. And because they trust me. Thankfully, their loyalty was the catalyst for the company’s growth.
I suppose my gift to Jordana is guiltless, unencumbered freedom. I’m not looking to go after her for anything, not anymore. I’ve learned my lesson. Quit while you’re ahead.
Anyway, like my nana said: “Senseless revenge will whip its neck and snap you on the bottom.”
As I finished tying up some loose ends before closing up for the evening, my cell phone rang. The number was international, probably a misdial, but I answered anyway.
“Hello?”
“Olivia?” The connection was fuzzy, but the voice familiar. “It’s William. Can you hear me?”
“Barely.” I smiled.
“I’m calling to say thank you.”
“For what?”
“The ring. Everything.” Despite the fact that I didn’t approve of William marrying Tatiana, I did go to Harry Winston to pick out a wedding band that I knew he would love, and then I left it with his doorman. No matter what he thought of me, I had to do that for him. Not because I felt I owed him, but because I wanted to.
“You’re welcome. Although it looks like you won’t be needing it.”
“You tried to tell me.”
“I did.”
“Listen, Olivia. I’m not sure whether the reception will hold up. I’m traveling in Africa with my father for another few weeks. I needed a break. Some time to think. And you’ve been on my mind.”
“Really?” I shut my eyes to drown out my surroundings. I needed to hear everything he said as clearly as I could.
“Can I see you when I get back?”
“I don’t know.” I wanted to say yes. I wanted to jump up and down and scream it. But, what if revisiting the messiness of the past prevents me from moving forward? I made that mistake once already.
“Come on, I thought you were my faithful servant.” He laughed.
“Well, when you put it that way.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Okay.” The line went dead then. And all that was left was silence. Along with the delicious realization that William will come back to me.
As it turns out, happiness is a choice. It’s just not for sale.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
People often assume that writing a book is a solitary effort. But the truth is, by the time my novels reach the world, they’ve been touched by so many talented individuals in a variety of different ways.
Thank you first and foremost to my brilliant agent and cherished friend, Alyssa Reuben. I can say with absolute certainty that Pretty Revenge would not be what it is or where it is without your tireless efforts, not to mention your unyielding support.
My deepest gratitude also extends to my rock-star editor, Kate Dresser. You took what was a very rough first draft, saw exactly what needed to be done, and then guided me every step of the way, until the book was where we both wanted it to be. I’m so thrilled to be working with you and I look forward to shaping many more books together. As you say, Huzzah!
Many thanks to the team at Gallery and Simon & Schuster for welcoming me with open arms—Jen Bergstrom, Aimée Bell, Jennifer Long, Molly Gregory, and Michelle Podberezniak. Stacey Sakal, you are an eagle-eyed copy editor; I’m so grateful for that!
Kathleen Carter, my publicist and friend for many years, you are a gift to authors. No one works harder than you do, and I appreciate your efforts more than you know.
Katelyn Dougherty, you are a gem! Without your sage advice and phone-call therapy sessions, I would not have survived this process.
To the many authors who support and inspire me: Jane Green, Elin Hilderbrand, Lauren Weisberger, Alisyn Camerota, Emily Giffin, Sarah Pekkanen, Sarah McCoy, Lynne Constantine, Brenda Janowitz, Liz Fenton, Lisa Steinke, Jamie Brenner, Abby Fabiaschi, and Susie Orman Schnall.
Thank you, also, to the readers’ groups, devoted book bloggers, and event hosts: Robin Kall, Vilma Gonzalez, Melissa Amster, Jenny O’Regan, Courtney Marzilli, and many more. Andrea Katz—you are a dream. Wise, kind, thoughtful, and beyond knowledgeable. Thank you for being you.
My readers are everything to me! Please keep reading and I’ll keep writing. Deal?
To my friends, who always lift me up: Melody Drake, Sara Haines, Kerry Kennedy, Jordana Gringer, Emily Rosnick, Allison Walmark, Anya Pechko, Stephanie Szostak, Heather Cody, Simona Levin, Andi Sklar, Kristina Grish, Anne Epstein, Jen Goldberg, Jenn Falik, Heather Bauer, Anne Greenberg, Teresa Giudice, Margaret Josephs, David Goffin, Susie Landau, Michele Weisler, Andrea Buchanan, Karen Sutton, Devin Alexander, Marni Lane, Jamie Camche, Amy Falkenstein, Rachel Golan, Andrew Kindt, and Laura Laboissonniere, and special thanks to my first reader, Shari Arnold.
Maria Manzi, you keep everything running smoothly in our home and beyond. We could not love you more.
To my family, whom I’d be lost without—my parents, Tom and Kyle Einhorn; my grandmother, Ailene Rickel; my brother, Zack Einhorn; my soon-to-be sister-in-law (yay!), Nayani Vivekaandamorthy; and all of the Lieberts.
Finally, to my boys—my husband, Lewis, and our sons, Jaxsyn and Hugo. I love you all to the moon and back.
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