Everything Stolen

by Sophia Scarlet

  I don’t say anything for a while and Phoebe’s nervous breathing is almost drowned out by Shawn McDonald’s ‘Through it all.’

  “I love my husband,” I answer with as much conviction as I can bring into my voice.

  “But are you IN love with him?”

  Taking a deep breath, I voice the truth that I hold most dear, the truth that makes my decision to stay with Silas so certain.

  “I trust him. I trust that he will be there tomorrow and the tomorrow after that. I trust that Silas will always do what he thinks is best for me and for Levi and for any other children that come along. What Jeremy and I had was beyond chemistry, beyond passion, beyond love, it was an existential connection. It was magical, but I don’t trust it and I don’t think I ever did.”

  “What do you mean? You didn’t trust Jeremy?”

  Puckering my lips and blowing out my reservations, I force myself to answer.

  “It’s less that I didn’t trust him and more that I was never really certain it would last. We fell so quickly and so hard, I was always waiting for it to burn out or go sour, and before that could happen he disappeared. Part of me thought that he just took off. You know he didn’t really love his job. He loathed his parents and he and Noah were always kind of tense. He didn’t have anything to stay for. There was nothing that he’d worked for or invested in the way that I’d invested in my career. He basically inherited everything in his life; it was all just handed to him whether he wanted it or not.”

  “Everything but you.”

  Laughing, I shake my head.

  “Jeremy never had to work for me. I threw myself at him. I worshiped him from the second we met. He didn’t have to earn anything from me. I’d never wanted a man the way I wanted him. I couldn’t stay away from him. Maybe… maybe he never really wanted me, either?”

  “Sylvie? You cannot be that naive. Jeremy wouldn’t have come to your doorstep as soon as he woke up if he didn’t love you, if he didn’t think what you two had was important.”

  “I guess. But it’s so much more complicated. He wants to get to know his son and that’s great, but maybe if I hadn’t had Levi he wouldn’t have come at all? And it doesn’t matter anyway, because loyalty and family and my vows are more important than anything else. I just want to get the answers that I need so I can move on.… So Jeremy can move on, too. And I really need you to support me in this. Because it’s not easy to walk away from him.”

  “I’m here for you,” she says.

  The smile Phoebe beams at me brims with the kind of unconditional love that I’ve come to see as her trademark.

  “You’re the best,” I say as she pushes her blond curls behind her ear.

  “I know. Let’s get the answers you’re looking for, and then stop in Sonoma for lunch on our way back to pick up the kids. I know a place.”

  I nod and we continue into the mountains.

  * * *

  St. Helena Brightstar General Hospital sits on a large overlook halfway up the mountain. Driving up the long street, the first thing I notice is how isolated it is. A single building, surrounded by a garden with nothing else around for miles.

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” Phoebe says when we park in the small lot.

  “No wonder I never checked this place. Who would have known it was here?”

  “Isn’t that what you paid that investigator to do? Find hospitals that no one else would know about?”

  Nodding I wonder if Jeremy is having better luck tracking down Noah and the investigators. We make our way to the front door and an older woman wearing a floral vest smiles at us from behind a table to the immediate left.

  “Good morning, ladies. Are you visiting someone today?”

  “Not exactly. We’d like to ask some questions regarding Jeremy Bradford’s stay here. My lawyer sent all the necessary paperwork so you can release all of his records to me.”

  “Sure, dear. Medical records are just down that hall to the right.”

  “Thanks.”

  Walking down the wide hall, I’m impressed by the facility. The shiny black tiles below us reflect our fuzzy images as we go. All the doors and windows have that newly built gleam to them. There are a couple of automated robots roaming the halls. The doctors and techs we pass smile as they go. Everyone I see carries a tablet.

  Phoebe whistles as she looks around.

  “This place is swanky,” she says. “Jeremy’s lucky that he ended up in a coma on this particular mountain.”

  I’m thinking that it is a rather odd coincidence when we reach a door with a Medical records sign. We knock and a young woman lets us in right away. Shiny new computers populate the handful of desks in the office and after I show her my identification and she verifies my authorization, she pulls up Jeremy’s files with ease. I want to speak to the doctor who first examined Jeremy four years ago, but he no longer works there. His report about Jeremy is unremarkable. None of the information is new. She prints me a copy of the summary to take with me.

  Stepping out of the office, I start thinking about interviewing other doctors. I glance at Phoebe. Her forehead is scrunched and her lips are pursed.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask.

  “I’m thinking that this is a really, really nice hospital for being so quaint and out of the way. Who pays for all of this?”

  “Patients, I guess? Wait. Who paid Jeremy’s bills?”

  Both us swivel to the door adjacent to the medical records department. The sign above it says ‘Billing’.

  My tentative knock is answered by a very tall man with only a few wiry hairs on the top of his head. Phoebe stands beside me, coughing to cover her giggles.

  “Can I help you? he asks.

  His voice is oddly slow as he gestures for us to enter. I elbow Phoebe in the side and nudge her ahead.

  “Hi,” I answer. “I’m looking for Jeremy Bradford’s billing records.”

  Half an hour later we’re staring at a bunch of bills paid over the course of four years by ‘Brightstar Bradford trust’ and I’m more confused than ever.

  “The Bradfords didn’t know where Jeremy was for the last four years. So how is it that a trust with their family name on it was paying Jeremy’s bills the whole time he was here?”

  Using only her eyes, Phoebe gestures at the clerk and smiles before saying in a cheery voice, “well, thanks for your time. Can we have copies of all this?”

  “You can take these,” he says. “Have a good day”

  Phoebe quickly gathers the copies. She stands and grabs my hand before leaving the very tall man, who waves and smiles oddly. I let her lead me out of the room, my mind still spinning.

  “Someone knew Jeremy was here all along,” I mutter once we’re in the hallway.

  “Uh huh,” she says, eyebrows raised.

  I’m still dazed as Phoebe and I head back to the car.

  “Maybe we should stay and try to talk to some of the nurses. Or the doctors.”

  “Nope,” says Phoebe. “We got what we came for. Brightstar Bradford Trust is the answer. When you find out which Bradford set up the trust, then you’ll have all the answers you need. My money’s on that witch of a mother.”

  I smile and nod my agreement. But as I climb into the car, worry slithers into my mind. The Bradfords aren't the only ones who could have set up a trust in their name. Their lawyer could have done it too.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I can’t keep my leg still. The relentless bouncing started as soon as I put Levi to bed and hadn’t abated after pacing, going to the bathroom, or playing sudoku. So now I’m just sitting on the foyer settee, letting it jiggle incessantly. A rough wet scrape on my thigh draws my attention from the garage door to Oscar’s expectant eyes.

  “He said he’d just be a couple hours late. He’ll be home soon and then I’ll take you for your evening walk. Try to be patient,” I remind the dog—and my limbs.

  No one is listening to me. So
the dog circles and yips and my legs twitch until Silas’ Mercedes rolls into the garage. I stand when I hear the car door close. The repetitive movement that had been driving me to frustration a moment ago ceases, replaced by an ominous stillness that I care for even less.

  My heart pounds as his footsteps approach. His hand on the doorknob quickens my breath. The creak of the hinges raises the bumps on my arms and neck.

  When his icy eyes meet mine, the whole world pauses as I look deep. Was he responsible for Jeremy’s disappearance? Could he have lied to me for all this time? Did I marry a monster?

  He smiles. Soft pink lips curl up as his eyes crinkle at the corners.

  “You waiting for me, baby?” he asks, dropping his bag and his keys on the floor and sweeping me into his arms.

  He swings me around as he sighs with pleasure. When he puts me back on my feet, his hands rise to cup my neck and his kiss tips back my head. For the first time I question those hands, hands I never thought could harm me. I should pull away. I should remove his hands from my body and demand answers. But I don’t. As soon as I ask him about the trust, everything will change. I cling to everything I thought I knew about my husband and my marriage, drawing out this last moment of sureness for as long as I can.

  My fingers stroke his arms and sides as he sucks at my lips and his tongue explores my mouth. We’ve been through so much together. I lean in when he groans, remembering the first time he pressed his lips to mine. I shiver as he kisses a trail down my jaw, recalling the first time I gave into the comfort and pleasure he offered. I squeeze his arms when he sweeps the hair off my neck and nibbles, summoning sensations of hundreds of passionate touches. Could this be the end of my marriage?

  His fingertips graze up my dress, teasing the back of my leg, until he grips my ass.

  “I want you right here,” he rasps, slipping his hand into my panties.

  On a normal day I’d be tempted to try to move us into the bedroom or at least somewhere less exposed than the front foyer, but today everything is different. Today, I’m terrified. Today, I’m desperate to linger, to believe in us for as long as I can before my husband becomes someone I don’t know and my marriage becomes something I can’t recognize. Today, when he tugs back my hair and looks into my eyes, asking for consent, I drop to my knees on the hard marble floor.

  He smiles down at me as I pull open his pants. He moans with pleasure when I pull out his turgid cock. When my lips wrap around the tip he throws his head back and groans.

  “God, I love my wife,” he growls, as I suck his length into my mouth.

  I love the smell of him. I love the way his balls bump against my chin. I slowly ease off his shaft, inch by inch. His eyes are glued to mine as I release him with a pop and his dripping tip bobs in the air.

  “Fuck,” he growls.

  Pushing me to all fours, he kneels behind me and slides my panties to the side. He thrusts in before I can get my balance, but his arm wraps around my waist so I don’t fall. He pulls out and I’m thrown forward when he shoves in again. But his arm is still tight around me. His other hand scratches up my thigh and toys with my ass, kneading and squeezing in ways that make me clench around his cock.

  He pauses to lift my torso up and press me to him.

  “Tell me you missed me, baby,” he whispers sweetly as he pushes down the top of my dress.

  The double straps of my dress and my bra pin my arms to my sides. He scoops my breasts out of the bra cups and toys with my nipples.

  “I missed you,” I sigh, leaning back against his hard chest.

  When he begins thrusting again, it’s slow and gentle. His hand falls to my mound and I gasp when he pinches my clit.

  “I want to hear you, Sylvie,” he rumbles with his lips tickling my neck.

  His hand grows more insistent and I burst.

  “Silas. Yes!” I whisper as he begins to pump harder.

  Adjusting his grip on me, he shoves in with more force and I whimper. He’s pressing so deep from this angle. The hardness of him, filling me pushes me to another peak. His fucks are steady and rhythmic, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. When I clench around him and mewl unintelligibly, he increases his speed. I cling to his thighs, still unable to lift my arms. But he won’t drop me.

  His arms tighten across my neck and waist as he pumps against my ass until he roars and jerks behind me. His whole body tenses as he thrusts a few more times. A shaky exhale rings in my ear as he pulls me closers and kisses my nape. As our breaths slowly return to normal, tears begin to streak down my face. My sobs echo around the marble entryway.

  He dislodges himself from me and turns me to face him.

  “Sylvie? Did I hurt you?”

  I don’t know how to answer. If he knew where Jeremy was for the last four years and hadn’t told me, then he’d done irreparable harm. If he made me love him after he’d taken so much from me, then he’d hurt me more than I ever thought anyone could. I can’t bring myself to ask.

  Shaking my head, I bury my face in his shoulder and struggle to regain my breath. He holds me, strong arms making me feel every bit as safe as they have since the first time I’d let myself fall into his embrace. Eventually, I straighten my clothing and he helps me to my feet. The look of concern in his gaze prickles as I ready myself to ask the question. The only question that matters.

  “What’s going on, Sylvie?” he asks.

  Oscar trots back into the room holding his leash between his teeth. Silas barely notices as the dog scratches at his leg.

  “I should take him for a walk,” I mumble, wiping the wet streaks from my face.

  “I’m not letting you out of the house like this, Sylvie. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Oscar needs to go out!”

  Oscar whimpers. With both eyes still trained on me Silas opens the back door and the beagle runs out to do his business.

  “Now tell me.”

  “Brightstar Bradford Trust. Did you… did you set it up?”

  “I handled the paperwork. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Brightstar Bradford Trust has been paying Jeremy’s medical bills in St. Helena for the last four years.”

  Silas’ face falls. He pales. We stare at each other and at some point my tears begin again. His Adam’s apple rises and falls as he reaches for me and I step away.

  “Sylvie, this isn’t what it looks like,” he pleads, stepping closer.

  “It looks like you knew where he was for four years, Silas,” I retort, taking another step back.

  “I set up that trust years ago, but I didn’t know what it was for. The Bradfords told me that they were making a donation to Brightstar Medical Group.”

  “Who told you that? Who asked you to set up the trust?”

  Silas hesitates and I know that telling me is a violation of confidentiality. He could be disbarred for answering my questions.

  “Bruce,” he says. “Bruce Bradford asked me to set up the trust four years ago.”

  Taking both of my hands between his, he pulls me closer.

  “Sylvie, you can not tell Jeremy about this. I will lose my practice.”

  “He has a right to know his father…”

  “I know he does,” Silas interrupts. “But just give me a couple of days to figure this out. There has to be a way to expose Bruce without me revealing privileged information. Please, Sylvie, just give me two days to sort this out.”

  Oscar yips and scratches at the door behind Silas and I move to open it. But Silas grips my hands tighter.

  “Tell me you won’t call him. Sylvie, promise me you won’t talk to him for the next couple of days. And after that, we’ll go to him together.”

  The look in his eyes is one I’ve never seen before. There’s panic and fear and so much hope that I’ll do what he’s asking. He’s asked me for so little over the years. I remember telling Phoebe just a few hours ago how important loyalty is to me, and I nod.


  “Promise me that you won’t make me keep this to myself for long, Silas. It’s so wrong to keep it from him. He’s moving back into their house tomorrow.”

  Relief brings color back to his face and he gentles me into his arms.

  “I’ll figure it out, baby,” he says, stroking my hair.

  His heart is pounding fiercely in his chest as he nuzzles my head.

  “I love you,” he whispers. “I’ll fix it.”

  For the first time since we met, I’m not sure I believe him.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Bruce Bradford is a fool. I was only twelve when I first realized that my father was driven by incurable ego and unqualified incuriosity. I was struggling with my sixth grade science fair project and when I asked him to help, his laughter was like a knife in my gut.

  “No one gives a shit about any of that, son,” he said. “The worth of a man is in who he is. And you, my boy, are a Bradford. Let lesser men worry about their data and their theories. There is only one truth that really matters, and you were born knowing everything you need to know.”

  I barely finished that project and I never asked my father for help with my school work again. The certainty in his pompous smirk had been so confusing and hurtful for me as a boy; but I’m not a boy anymore.

  Today, Bruce eats his customary breakfast with a tinge of distain. Sharon always insists on a light breakfast. Bruce always wants bacon and waffles, but his wife is the one to whom the servants listen. So every morning a plate of poached eggs and fresh fruit appears before him; and every day he eyes it with a hint of contempt before he eats and gets on with his day.

  It’s been twenty years since that science fair, but Bruce hasn’t changed. He dyes his greying hair black and he wears a touch of bronzer that the woman at his shave lounge insists that everyone uses to look younger. His muddy green eyes scan the Wall Street Journal as if the useless rag was anything more than right-wing propaganda for the bitter and nostalgic.

  Eating my cereal, I squash down all the reasons I loathe staying in my parents’ home. When Sharon and the STC staff insisted that I stay on the Bradford estate, I didn’t object. There are things I need to know before I move out. It will be a very quick matter to find a place and move in when I’m ready. But for today, I’m here and I need more information.