What Lies Beneath

by Andrea Laurence

  Well, of course it would seem like it. She wouldn’t recognize any of the people that came to see her. They’d never met. She wouldn’t recognize their house or know anything about their life or her past. It made perfect sense.

  Except she hadn’t remembered who she really was either.

  He’d always believed amnesia was the stuff of soap operas before Cynthia’s accident. And now, knowing the truth, he was inclined to believe it still was.

  The woman on that website was at the end of her rope. She’d lost her store, was flying back home to Wisconsin. She had nothing when she got on that plane. Even if there had been some initial confusion when she woke up with all the surgeries and drugs, there had to be a point when she realized there was a mistake and didn’t say anything.

  But why? Did the fancy life Cynthia no longer needed seem more glamorous? Rich parents, a penthouse apartment on the Upper East Side, a five-carat platinum engagement ring…certainly better than returning home a failure.

  Better to go along with it, see how long she could get away with her game. In a matter of weeks, she’d overtaken Cynthia’s life and set it on the course of the life she wanted. Not only was she designing, and miraculously well for a supposed novice, but now she had all the industry connections to get a collection off the ground.

  It was certainly a big risk to take. She couldn’t have known about the tattoo, but there could’ve been a million different ways to give her game away. Seducing him was probably the stupidest thing she could’ve done. Did she think he would be blinded by love and never notice the differences?

  It had worked pretty well, so far. He’d dismissed the shoes being too big and the eyes being too gold. Cast aside doubts when she was suddenly a world-class seamstress. Suppressed his amazement when the personalities were like night and day. He supposed he had been blind. He hadn’t wanted to see that no bump to the head could’ve turned the cold, indifferent woman he knew into the vivacious, loving woman who had charmed him from the first day in the hospital.

  But perhaps that was all an act. If she were shrewd enough to steal another person’s identity, all of that could just be part of the game. Be sweet, be loving, be innocent and everyone would love her too much to ask questions.

  Slamming his fist into his desk, Will let himself focus on the pain radiating up his arm. The unpleasant sensation was the only thing in his life he knew was real and true. Cynthia or Adrienne or whoever the hell she was had wrapped him in such a web of lies that he didn’t know what to believe. But pain didn’t lie. It didn’t turn your whole world upside down and confess its love to you in a ploy to hijack someone’s life.

  Well, no more. He wasn’t about to be used for a second longer. He shut down his laptop and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair, then he marched out of his office to hail a cab for home.

  * * *

  Sunday afternoon Cynthia was filled with nervous energy. She should’ve been floating around on cloud nine after the amazing night she shared with Will, but something about this morning hadn’t sat right with her. He’d come so far in his attempt to work less and spend more time with her. But this morning, he had almost avoided her. He didn’t make eye contact. His lips had been stiff against hers when she kissed him goodbye. Then he’d dashed out the door to go to the office for a problem that someone other than the CEO could have fixed.

  It made her uneasy. She thought last night had gone so well. She didn’t know what the problem could be. Unless he heard her when she’d said she loved him. Cynthia had been certain he was asleep, but what if he wasn’t? What if it was way too soon? She was a fool. Always wait for the guy to say it first.

  As time went by without word from Will, Cynthia opted to call Darlene Winters. She should’ve waited until Monday, but she needed the distraction. She was pleased to find the fashion editor was still just as excited to view her work. She was to bring three pieces and her sketches to her office in the Trend Now magazine headquarters on Tuesday.

  The problem was she only had three completed pieces: the gown, the shirt-dress and a coordinating skirt and blouse. If she took those three pieces, she didn’t have the option of wearing one of her own designs. She didn’t think any of her sketches could be completed in time, because she was short on the fabrics and supplies she would need. She’d just have to settle for the small fortune of designer clothes she owned.

  She stood in her closet, eyeing the endless racks of items to wear. Cynthia had already picked out a deep purple skirt. She liked the pop of color, and the lines were similar enough to her collection that the style didn’t contrast too much with what she promoted. But she still needed a blouse.

  She flipped through hanger after hanger, the dollar signs adding up exponentially, but nothing caught her eye. Then she saw a glimpse of fabric in her peripheral vision. The flash of purple and white drew her down several feet to a long-sleeved blouse. She pulled it off the rack and looked it over. It was perfect, really. The purple and white stripes would accent the skirt, and some of the details in the blouse were very similar to what she’d been thinking about using in her own collection. Curious, she glanced at the tag on the collar.

  Adrienne Lockhart Designs.

  She looked at the name, staring intently at it for several moments as her brain tried to process the sudden influx of information rushing forward at once. It was like a dam had broken. Every memory she’d ever had bombarded her.

  She remembered designing and sewing this blouse. The woman who bought it at her boutique was looking for a unique birthday gift. Her friend was the kind of person who had everything and she’d been struggling to find something different. Adrienne had hoped the woman would bring in more business, but nothing had ever come of it.

  She could now picture her funky little shop with walls lined with clothing she’d designed and sewn herself. The fortune in her father’s life insurance money she’d used to get started. The heartache of packing everything up to ship home to Wisconsin when it didn’t work out.

  Adrienne Lockhart.

  The hanger slipped from her fingers to the floor, but she didn’t bother to bend over and pick it up.

  “My name is Adrienne Lockhart.” She said the words aloud to the empty closet, and for the first time in two months, the niggling sensation in the back of her mind wasn’t there. The name Cynthia Dempsey had always triggered a feeling that things weren’t right. And they weren’t.

  Because Cynthia Dempsey was dead and buried in Wisconsin with a tombstone that had Adrienne’s name on it.

  A rush of emotion and confusion washed over her. She’d been living a lie for months. Fell in love with a dead woman’s fiancé. Made love to him several times, all the while he believed she was someone else. How could she tell him the truth? What would he do?

  He’d said he liked her better now than before, but would the fact that she wasn’t Cynthia Dempsey change how he felt?

  Never once when she thought about when and how she would regain her memory did it ever occur to her that she would realize she was someone else. Everyone thought she was dead. Cynthia’s family thought she was alive. All of Cynthia’s friends, the people who’d come to her party last night, pleased to see she was doing so well…how could she tell them the truth? How could she explain any of this?

  Nausea swept over her. Rushing from the closet, she raced into the bathroom and lost her lunch in the fancy porcelain toilet.

  Why hadn’t she gone with her instincts? Alarm bells had been sounding the entire time to warn her that this life wasn’t hers. She never had money or expensive anything. She was convinced that her tiny apartment in New York was an old janitorial closet. Her house in Milwaukee was a small, three-bedroom cottage in the suburbs that she inherited when her father died. The nicest piece of jewelry she owned was the strand of pearls that belonged to her mother. They were irreplaceable, but even then, they couldn’t touch the value of Cynthia’s jewels.

  Rolling back against the wall, she wiped her mouth and was relieved that the e
ngagement ring wasn’t on her hand. It belonged to a woman from an entirely different world. That woman had been a successful advertising executive. That woman had clothes and credit card limits that Adrienne could only dream of. She was also a horrible person who cheated on her fiancé and made a mess of her own life.

  Her one moment of relief was knowing she’d never actually done those terrible things. Nigel was a complete stranger. Along with everyone else, including Will.

  Oh, God, Will.

  Adrienne buried her face in her hands. This was such a mess. “How am I going to tell him?” she said aloud.

  “How are you going to tell me what?”

  Adrienne’s head snapped up and found Will standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Things had apparently gone well at the paper. Not so much back here.

  She immediately noticed a change in him. There was no softness in his eyes. His cold gaze was focused on her like a laser. His hands were thrust angrily in his pockets, his entire body tense from the chiseled line of his jaw to the wide, solid stance in the doorway.

  “I…” she began, but couldn’t find the words. What would she say? My memory has suddenly come back, and I realized I’m not your fiancée. Sorry I slept with you. Something like that?

  “Why don’t you do us both a favor and just come clean, Adrienne?”

  Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open at once. He knew. Somehow he’d managed to piece it all together before she did. “I just remembered—”

  “No way. Don’t you even try to feed me some half-ass cover story about how you’ve just suddenly regained your memory because I’ve caught you.”

  “Caught me?” Adrienne’s heart sank in her chest. She’d been worried enough that he’d be disappointed to find out she wasn’t Cynthia but had hoped he’d understand the mistake. That perhaps their feelings for one another would overcome the reality of who she really was. But her hopes had been quickly dashed by the heated tone of his accusations. Apparently he was angry. And he somehow believed she’d faked everything for nefarious reasons.

  “What a sweet stroke of luck it must’ve been for you. A failed business, no friends, no family, no money. Get on a plane and wake up a millionaire heiress with a new face making you the center of attention.”

  Adrienne climbed to her feet, tears she didn’t want gathering in her eyes. “No,” she insisted. “It isn’t like that. I had no idea—”

  “And to think I believed you’d uncovered a hidden talent, like some prodigy of the fashion world. Was it your plan all along to show your work to Darlene? Were you just using Cynthia’s connections to further your career?”

  “Why would I do that?” she asked. “It wouldn’t be my career. It would be Cynthia’s. This whole life was Cynthia’s, and I knew I never fit into it. But everyone kept telling me this was who I was and that eventually I would remember.”

  “It’s hard to remember a life you never lived.”

  The angry edge of Will’s voice sent the tears spilling down her cheeks. She couldn’t fight them anymore. “How did you find out?”

  “You never should’ve seduced me, Adrienne. Dr. Takashi didn’t work on anything but your face. It was a big risk to take off all your clothes and hope you looked the same from head to toe.”

  Adrienne flinched as her ego took the hit. Of course she never would’ve done that if she’d known the truth. Cynthia was perfect and thin and elegant. She was none of those things, and naked, it would be even more obvious. But she had to ask. “What was it about me that convinced you I wasn’t her?”

  “Cynthia had a rose tattoo. You don’t.”

  Tattoo? That explained the odd look on his face as she walked to the bathroom last night. The way he’d stared intently at her rear end like the secrets of the universe were etched there. He was looking for a tattoo she didn’t have. Their prior encounter had been dark, but that night the lights had been on while they made love and when she’d gotten out of bed. He’d known in that moment and she’d been stupid enough to turn around and tell him she loved him not twenty minutes later.

  “Of course I don’t. I’m afraid of needles. I would never have the nerve to get a tattoo.”

  “But you have the nerve to take advantage of a family that should be grieving the loss of their daughter?”

  How could he think she would do that? Hadn’t he learned anything about her in the past few weeks? “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know. Not until just now. In the closet I found a shirt—”

  “The closet!” Will sneered, refusing to let her finish a complete thought. He obviously didn’t care to hear anything she had to say in her defense. “I should’ve known the very first day you came home. Didn’t know your own mother, but you knew when you’d landed the couture clothing jackpot. I bet you couldn’t wait to see if you and Cynthia wore the same size.”

  “No,” she insisted. “It was all real. Everything I said or did. I gave my heart to you, Will. I never would’ve done that if this was all a lie. I would never deliberately hurt you like she did.”

  A mottled red spread across Will’s face, his nostrils flaring to indicate she’d said the wrong thing. “Don’t you dare turn this on Cynthia. She may not have been perfect, but she never pretended to be anything she wasn’t.”

  “Except in love with you.” Adrienne couldn’t help but shoot the sharp barb back at him in anger. “She probably never cared half as much for you as I do. She was in love with a broke artist from the Bronx. She was only using you as a cover so all her society friends wouldn’t know she’d stoop that low.”

  Will shook his head slowly, the anger seeming to finish running its course, leaving him disillusioned and sad. “I never thought the woman I’d come to know the past few weeks would stoop this low either.”

  Adrienne tried to think of the right words for the moment. The thing to convince him she meant everything she said. There was only one thing left. “I love you, Will.”

  “Get out.”

  Panic seized Adrienne, her chest tightening so suddenly she almost couldn’t breathe. That wasn’t the reaction she was hoping for. Get out? He couldn’t really mean it. He wasn’t cruel enough to throw her out with nothing. She didn’t have a dime to her name. No cell phone, not even a driver’s license. Everything she owned was Cynthia’s. Adrienne had lost all her possessions in the crash. Even if she somehow managed to have her aunt wire her money, could she buy a bus ticket without ID? How was she going to get home?

  “Will, please,” she begged. She had to persuade him to see reason.

  “I said get out!” he yelled, his voice booming in the acoustic bathroom.

  In that moment, Adrienne knew the battle was over. There was no way she could convince him of the truth. Nodding, she started for the exit to the bathroom, waiting for him to step aside so she could get through the doorway.

  “You think you know what happened. You think I’m a horrible person. I can’t change that. But I meant what I said. I did fall in love with you.”

  He stepped aside to let her by but turned his face away, unwilling to look at her for the sincerity or truth of her words. He obviously didn’t want to hear anything she had to say. Will had made his decision, delivered his verdict and executed the sentence. As far as he was concerned, Adrienne was as dead as everyone thought she was.

  Defeated, Adrienne walked down the hallway, through the living room and out of his life.

  Eleven

  Adrienne stood outside the storefront that had once been her boutique. Her funky little shop had a banner across the window announcing the grand opening of a new Baby GAP. She could see the overpriced clothes for baby yuppies hanging where her beautiful, artistic creations once were. She wanted to cry. To scream and throw a rock through the window.

  It was bad enough when she’d lost her shop. Not everyone had the talent to make it, and she was mature enough to understand that. But now she knew she did have the talent. With the right connections, Cynthia’s network could’ve launched her career. Even if it
had been as Cynthia Dempsey, it would’ve been fulfilling her dreams. And once again, she’d lost her chance.

  Just like she’d lost her chance with Will. And that was even worse than her latest discovery.

  She’d give up designing clothes to have the chance to make things right with him. He’d probably never forgive her or trust her again, but she wished he’d give her the opportunity to try. She’d never get it, though. Just like when he discovered Cynthia was cheating, he cut Adrienne from his life with one clean swipe. He was through. And even if he had second thoughts, they would come too late. Adrienne would be back in Milwaukee before long, working retail or finding some part-time job as a seamstress altering wedding dresses.

  Somehow things were better when she was dead.

  She clutched her arms to her chest, the cool breeze raising goose bumps across her bare flesh. She’d dressed for a lazy Sunday at home—a pair of comfy jeans, a cotton T-shirt and sneakers. She should’ve grabbed a coat before she left the apartment, but she didn’t want Will to accuse her of stealing Cynthia’s clothes. As it was, she was surprised he didn’t force her out of the apartment naked.

  It didn’t really matter, though. No amount of cold air could distract her from the pain of the gaping hole in her chest. She thought she’d lost everything when the plane crashed, but she was wrong. What she’d lost since then was much worse. The man she loved hated her. The people she thought of as her family would, too, once they knew the truth. Adrienne didn’t know what to do.

  She’d wandered aimlessly through the streets with no real destination in mind and found herself in her old stomping grounds in SoHo. She didn’t really know where else she could go. Hours had gone by and the sun was about to set, making her situation more serious by the minute. Her best option would be to see if she could crash at Gwen’s place until she could get the money to go home, but she didn’t have her phone number on her. Adrienne’s only other choices were to show up unannounced at one of her old friends’ places and give them a huge shock, since they thought she was dead, or find a homeless shelter.