“What’s wrong?” Renly asked. “You look rather down.”
I shook my head. “Tomorrow, everyone will know who I am,” I said.
Renly looked confused. “Yes. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
I looked out the window. On the street below, throngs of people were packed from corner to corner. They were headed to the expo. This story would be aired on the expo’s last day, while Ian was still out in public. There would already be an endless wave of press there for the expo itself, and more would come after the story hit the news. The stage was being set. Ian was going to be caught in a crossfire of press questions. A lump solidified in my throat. Was it sadness? Sympathy? God, could it really be? After all of this time, did I still care about him? I felt the burning sensation in the pit of my stomach, the dull throb that let me know I did. I wanted to run, to hide, but how could I hide from myself?
“I don’t know what I want anymore,” I choked, trying to hold back the tears. I hated it all: Ian, Renly, the magazine, myself. I knew we were close to the end now, but that only made it worse. It felt as if I was marching into the heart of the inferno.
Mr. Renly frowned. “Ms. Adams. It would be a shame to quit now, after we’ve come so far. Do you really want to trip at the finish line?” he asked.
I looked at him. He was old, with a pot-belly, a red face, and thinning hair. He had wrinkle lines embedded deep into his face, running in all directions. He looked much older than he rightfully should. It was the job. Journalism was a stressful career, perhaps one of the most stressful. Even at his age, he was still hunting for it, tracking down that Holy Grail story that would finally catapult his career to something noteworthy, and I had hand-delivered it to him. It didn’t much matter to me now; I wasn’t even jealous. At least one of us would get to live out our dream today.
“Can you continue?” Mr. Renly asked.
I cracked my neck. “With pleasure,” I said.
Mr. Renly looked pleased. “Great. So let’s just start where we left off yesterday. I believe it was right after Ian’s wife had walked in on you and Ian. Is that correct?” Renly asked, hitting the record button once more.
I nodded. I no longer felt sad or angry, just determined. I would tell the story as objectively as I could, even if it killed me. “Yes, it was right after that...”
* * *
The tears were still running freshly down my cheeks when I woke up this morning. How was that possible? How could you wake up crying? Somehow I had managed it. Without wasting time though, I began packing my things, all of them. I paused when I came across a set of papers. The paper read ‘The Genesis Drive prototype.’ I hesitated, looking at the garbage can to my left side and the purse at my right, then the mirror in front of me. My makeup was still smudged from the tears. Without a second thought, I stuffed the papers into my purse, intoxicated by the empowerment of it. My bleeding heart was finally starting to slow, to harden. It made me feel good, invincible. The little girl in me was finally dying, finally understanding how stupid love really was, how fake. Love was just that lie we were told to keep us dreaming, to keep us going from day to day. Finally though, the hope had been extinguished. Something inside me snapped, and I knew that love would never impede me again.
All I could picture was handing the prototype papers to Logan, to see Ian hurt, confused, humiliated. He would feel exactly as I did when his wife walked in on us in the bathroom. Then he would truly know what my suffering felt like. Only his would be worse, his would be documented by thousands of flashing lights, cameras capturing all of his humiliation and pain when he realized he had been betrayed by someone he trusted, by someone he loved. Then, only then, would he know how it felt. The symmetry of it was so satisfying, so karmic. The idea began to grow in me like a weed, spreading until it became all-consuming.
“Ms. Potters? Can I come in?” a voice asked. It was a gentle voice, calm, experienced. With the voice came a gentle rapping on the door to my bedroom. Or at least, the guest bedroom I used at Ian’s estate.
I recognized the voice instantly. I hesitated. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. That would only make me second guess myself. If I was going to do this, I had to do it now, or perhaps I never would.
“I really need to change those sheets,” the voice said.
I laughed, the fire in my heart quelling. “It’s okay, Mrs. Mabel. You can come in.” I couldn’t say no to the old woman. She was sweet and wise, trustworthy too. Perhaps that was because she had come from a different world, a world that prided itself on honesty and integrity. This one though, this one was full of backstabbers, all clamoring to get ahead in the great rat race; it almost made me nauseous just thinking about it. Mrs. Mabel always seemed immune to it all though. She just went from room to room, cleaning, as if she was oblivious. She wasn’t, though, that I knew. She was too smart for that.
Mabel entered, her face looking gray. To my surprise though, she was wearing a dress. I had never seen her in anything other than her work clothes. “You look great, Mrs. Mabel,” I said, smiling. It was the first genuine one I had given in a while.
Mabel laughed. “No need to lie to your elders, girl. I look like an old leather jacket. I was pretty once mind you, but nothing lasts forever.” It was true, I thought bitterly, nothing did. “Never mind me though. It’s you I’m here to talk about,” Mabel said.
“I thought you were here to change the sheets?” I asked with a smirk.
Mabel scowled. “Off the clock? Hardly. I said that because I knew you’d let me in that way,” she said with a wink.
The gesture filled me with warmth. Mabel was like the grandmother I never knew. “Well if you’re off the clock, you should go home,” I offered. “Lord knows no one around here gets much time off, not for long anyway.”
Mabel shook her head. “I don’t even like going home anymore, been doing this for too long. Besides, I’m here to see you.”
I didn’t know what to say; I was touched. This woman barely knew me, yet she could tell I was in pain. She had come to comfort me. I wanted to hug her, but I couldn’t, the icy person inside me wouldn’t allow it. Instead, I said, “Come to help me pack?” Instantly I regretted the words. Why hadn’t I just said thank you?
Mabel smiled, her eyes sparkling with concern. “I’ll help you pack,” she said, “but first, you might want to hear me out, before you start with the heavier things.”
I stopped packing for a moment. Mabel had a mysterious smirk on her face. “What do you mean?” I asked.
Mabel hesitated. “Before you go, there’s something you should know about Ian.”
I scoffed. “I know plenty about him. And I don’t want to talk about any of it.” I began packing again. Mabel, however, grabbed my wrist. Her hand was rough, a bit like sandpaper, but warm.
“I know sometimes it’s easier to run than to hear the truth. Sometimes, lies are just easier. That’s why people lie. We lie to our bosses, we lie to our friends, family, even our children. We do it because it’s easier than telling them the truth. You want know a secret though? The truth is always worth it,” Mabel said with a smile.
I wanted to run, but Mabel’s eyes kept me locked in place, that, and my curiosity. I sighed. I couldn’t believe I was going to put myself through this again. I must have been some sort of emotional masochist.
“I think I’ve had more truth than I can handle in a lifetime. I’d almost prefer you lie to me at this point,” I said.
Mabel laughed. “On rare occasions, sometimes the truth is more pleasant than the lie.”
I laughed as well. “That must be very rare. I’ve certainly never experienced it.”
“Ian’s wife. Their relationship. It’s not what you think,” Mabel finally said.
I cocked my eyebrow. “What, are they in some kind of open relationship or something?” The thought made me sick to my stomach. Just what kind of rabbit hole had I wandered down?
Mabel shook her head. “Heavens no, child. Th
ey didn’t grow up in the swinger era. What I mean to say, honey, is that Mr. Payne’s relationship with his wife isn’t really a relationship at all.” I was frustrated now, confused. Why did everyone in this place insist on toying with my emotions? Why was everything so convoluted? “Can I just have one straight answer please? Just one?”
Mabel nodded, frowning sympathetically. “I’m sorry, child. I just saw the way you looked at him, and the way he talked about you. That was real love. Ian’s wife though, they are only married for one thing.”
“What thing?” I growled, stuffing everything I could in my Armani suitcase. Well...Ian’s suitcase, I supposed. It was mine now though: all was fair in love and war, and this was both.
“Status,” Mabel said with a smile.
I paused. “Status? What are you talking about?”
“The wealthy are a little different than you and I. Backward people really. They don’t have a lick of common sense, because they never needed any. Ian’s marriage with Cassie was arranged, arranged right before Ian’s father died,” Mabel said.
My heart dared to beat again. The frost that encased it was suddenly being thawed by the slightest glimmer of hope. “Arranged? You mean, Ian didn’t choose to marry her?” It seemed unlikely. The woman I had seen in the bathroom was beautiful, graceful. She looked fierce as well, and dressed as sharply as Ian. She seemed a worthy match for Mr. Payne, much more than myself. I felt clumsy and stupid by comparison.
Mabel shook her head. “Neither of them did. You see, Cassie is from another wealthy family, the Brooks; you wouldn’t know them, but trust me, they’re snobs,” Mabel said. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Anyway, it was Ian’s and Cassie’s fathers that pushed for the marriage,” Mabel continued.
I looked at Mabel, confused. “I still don’t understand what that has to do with anything,” I admitted. My mind was foggy, occluded by all the events occurring together in such rapid succession. I could barely keep up with it all. Who could?
“Ian loved his father. He was a busy man though, always on the move. You think Ian is a workaholic, ha! He’s the watered-down version of his father. His father would disappear for weeks at a time, burying himself in projects. Those brilliant types, all looney if you ask me. Ian loved him though, the way any kid would love his father. He would have done anything for his father’s approval. You see, Cassie and Ian grew up together, they were friends. As much as Ian’s father wanted it though, that was all they were. Cassie and Ian just weren’t interested in each other, not in a romantic sense. For years the two simply shrugged off the notion that they should get married, that is, until Ian’s father fell ill,” Mabel said, her eyes going distant.
I thought I could see a twinge of regret in those eyes. They looked heavy, old. “Ian was so distraught. It had been an abrupt illness. Before that, Ian’s dad had been healthy, robust. But the illness swept in like a storm, and before anyone could blink, Ian’s father was gone. Ian was hardly even nineteen at the time, just a boy, but he inherited the billion-dollar company all the same. He had no clue how to run it though, and amidst all the heartache, he could barely will himself to move forward. I remember looking after him then. You should have seen him, Penelope, he was a wreck. You see, as much as Ian likes to pretend he’s invincible, he isn’t. Red blood pumps through his heart the same as ours. He feels deeply, even if he pretends not to.”
I felt my heartstrings tug at the thought of Ian. It was hard to imagine him as a boy. He always seemed so mature, so powerful, both in his position and physical form. I could picture Ian sitting over his father’s deathbed, desperate for the approval he had scarcely gotten in life. Perhaps that was why he overachieved so much. Perhaps that was why he buried himself in his work. He was still trying to impress someone, to be noticed, because being exceptional was the only way anyone would love him, or at least that was how it must have seemed to him. The dull ache in my heart spread to my stomach. I thought I might cry. I couldn’t believe it. A moment ago, I wouldn’t have cared if Ian jumped off a bridge. I may even have helped nudge him off. Now though, I felt sorry for him, genuinely sorry. God, what was wrong with me?
“When his father died, he only had one request for Ian. He requested that Ian marry Cassie, to help merge the Brook and Payne estates. So Ian honored his father’s last wish. The wedding was done in secrecy, to avoid a media feeding frenzy. Only three months after Ian’s father passed, it was done. Ian and Cassandra were married, both just children, meant to run an empire together. It was a hard time for Ian. If it wasn’t for Logan, he may never have made it through that first year,” Mabel said.
An icy blade slipped through my heart at the mention of Logan. What had I gotten myself into? I wanted to tell her, to tell her right there that Logan planned to betray Ian, then I realized that I planned to do the same. Would she even believe me if I told her? Would Ian? Now that I had erased the recording, I wasn’t sure of anything. Suddenly, I was sick to my stomach. Run. That’s what I had to do. I had to get far away from this place. That would help put it all into perspective.
I raised my chin and continued to pack. “Well I’m very sorry for Mr. Payne, but everyone goes through hard times.” Even now I could feel my resolve weakening. I was so glad Ian wasn’t in the room now. If he had been, I would have hugged him, clung to him and told him that everything was going to be alright. It would have been a lie, though. The time bomb was ticking, and I needed to be clear of the blast radius when it went off. A thought entered my mind though, a question. As much as I wanted to let it go, I simply couldn’t. So against my better judgment, I asked,
“So you’re saying that Ian and Cassandra’s marriage is all just for show?”
Mabel nodded. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
I thought about this. Even the idea made my heart sing, but was it simply setting itself up for another wound? The next blow might have been fatal. “So they’ve never, you know.”
Mabel shook her head. “Not once,” she said.
I cocked my eyebrow. The inner skeptic in me smelled something fishy. I had seen her. The woman was beautiful, as was Ian. Even if they didn’t love each other, it seemed that two beautiful people who had spent so much time together would have at least tried it, once. Admittedly, shamefully even, the assurance from Mabel that they hadn’t, it filled me with joy, with hope.
I wanted to hug Mabel now. “How do you know all this?” I asked.
Mabel smirked. “You’d be surprised what you can learn when you clean someone’s house regularly. You always find a little dirt,” Mabel said with a wink.
I laughed. “You would have made a great journalist.”
Mabel shook her head. “No. I’m too honest.”
I laughed again. The tears were drying now. Suddenly my heart felt light. I was a giddy schoolgirl once more. Then I frowned. “Why didn’t Ian just tell me that?”
“I believe he tried, dear,” Mabel said.
I remembered Ian chasing me through the estate, pleading for me to listen, telling me that I didn’t understand. I guess I hadn’t, not truly. I was so full of rage then, I didn’t even want to look at him at the time, let alone talk to him. I shook my head. “No. That’s not good enough. He should have told me before that. Something that important, you don’t hide it. Regardless of what they have together, I deserved to know.”
Mabel nodded. “True enough, dear. But you can’t hold too much against Ian. He might be a genius, but you have to remember that’s by a man’s standard. Which is like being the fastest slug,” she said.
I looked at Mabel, who met my gaze. Her eyes were warm. I saw a patience in them I could only hope to achieve. “I don’t know if I can forgive him,” I admitted.
Mabel nodded. “He should have told you, dear, but I know why he didn’t. The affairs of the wealthy often have to be hidden. You know that as well as I do. Some people use information to hurt you. I know that’s strange to us, but there are people out there who only pretend to
care for their own personal gain. Ian has spent his whole life trying to distinguish which person is which,” Mabel said.
Guilt filled me like a venom at Mabel’s words. How could I be the one mad at him? I was the one with the secret identity. I was the one who had planned to betray him from the start. Everything Ian had done was for the sake of his family, or for his company. Everything I had done was for the sake of my career. It had all been for me. Ian truly was the white knight, and who was I? Some witch who was trying to poison him. I felt low, filthy, like a rat scavenging for scraps.
“Why didn’t he tell me all this himself?” I asked.
“He would have liked to, but he had a meeting this morning. He was going to try to talk to you about it afterwards. It was my job to stall you until then,” Mabel said with a sheepish smirk.
I laughed. Life was strange. Just a moment ago it felt as though the world was crashing in all around me, and now I felt as light as air. I had some apologizing to do.
“Where is he now?” I asked.
“He’s at a press conference, announcing the date of his next expo. He didn’t want to go, but Logan pressed the issue,” Mabel said.
Logan. The name shot through me like a thousand volts. I had to tell Ian. It was the only way I could redeem myself. I had to tell him everything. Maybe he would even understand. I mean, if I could accept that he was married, could he accept that I was a fake? A thin ray of hope peeked through the darkness. Maybe it didn’t have to be a doomed romance after all. I could change my story to cover Logan Lambert. It would ruin his career, boost mine, and Ian and I could be together. Logan would even deserve that, deserve the resulting media frenzy. He would become a pariah. All I had to do was tell Ian about Logan’s plan.
Rich Man's Deception: Complete Boxed Set Bundle: Billionaire Boss / Corporate Espionage Romance Page 10
