Three Single Wives: The devilishly twisty, breathlessly addictive must-read thriller

by Gina LaManna

  Mark closed his eyes. “I thought you knew.”

  “I do know,” Anne said. “I saw her. The girl you’re seeing.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not dating anyone. Harmony Feliz is my daughter.”

  Anne felt the bottle of beer slipping from her fingers. She steadied it, then tapped her fingers against the glass and stared at her feet. The cement was patchy and broken. Weeds crept up through the crumbled bits. One tiny flower bloomed beneath the table despite the odds stacked against it.

  “Excuse me?” she finally managed.

  “Harmony is eighteen years old,” Mark explained. “When I met you, I was seeing her mother, Angelina. We’d been…intimate several times.”

  “I never knew.”

  “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it was relevant.” Mark looked sheepish. “I mean, you and I weren’t exclusive at that point, or at least I didn’t think so. Angelina and I dated for a few months, but after my third date with you, I knew I had to choose one.”

  Anne’s throat went dry.

  “I was young and stupid. I’m not proud of any of this,” Mark said. “I saw Angelina once or twice more. We’d been going together off and on for a while, but it was never serious. We saw each other between other relationships. We were just—”

  “You were fuck buddies.”

  “A bit harsh, but if that’s what you want to call it, I suppose I can’t argue.”

  “Did she know the situation?” Anne asked. “Was she in it for the sex, or had she fallen in love?”

  “We knew what we were. Neither one of us was pretending it was anything more than that.”

  “You’re sure?” The knowledge of Penny’s unreciprocated relationship with Roman was still fresh in Anne’s mind. “Sometimes wires get crossed. It never ends well.”

  Mark shot her a darkly frustrated look. “After you and I went away to Morro Bay for a weekend, I made up my mind.”

  “So while we were cuddled up in that cute little bed-and-breakfast and you first told me that you loved me,” Anne said, feeling sick to her stomach, “I wasn’t the only one you were dating?”

  “After that, you were. I never saw Angelina again,” Mark pleaded. “I swear to you. I called her from our hotel room while you were showering and broke up with her. We never spoke again.”

  Anne waited patiently, her insides fluttering with anxiety. She didn’t want to hear what Mark had to say next, but she needed to know. She’d gone this far. There was no turning back.

  “Angelina died last year.” Mark raised his beer to his lips, took a sip. “I only found out when a young woman contacted me via Facebook.”

  “Harmony.”

  “She’d done some digging into her past. Apparently, her mother had never told her that her father—the man Angelina ended up marrying—wasn’t her biological father.”

  “If her mother never told her, how did she find out?”

  Mark gave a snort. “Going through her mother’s things, she found a wedding photo of her parents. She was two years old in the photo, and it got her wondering.”

  “They could have had her out of wedlock and got married later. Plenty of people do it.”

  “True, but her mother had always lauded the fact that she’d had a whirlwind romance with Angelina’s father. They met and were married six months later.”

  “Harmony’s good at math.”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “Did she tell her father?” Anne struggled for the proper phrase. “Her…unbiological father?”

  “He was the first person she told. She went to him and asked him for the truth. He gave it to her straight.”

  “Did he know your name?”

  “No. Harmony found out who I was with a bit of investigative prowess. She picked through her mother’s diaries, journals, whatever.”

  “Like father, like daughter,” Anne said wryly. “Sounds like she’d make for a good detective.”

  Mark shrugged. “She’s sharp. And determined.”

  “Maybe Angelina was sleeping with other men, too,” Anne said, her mind flicking back to Penny’s confusing little love triangle. “Have you considered the fact that Harmony might not be yours?”

  “She is,” Mark said. “I agreed to a paternity test.”

  Anne’s blood went cold. “When?”

  “Shortly after she came to me.”

  “And you never told me?” Anne’s hands twitched around her beer bottle, then stilled. “I’m your wife, and you never once thought to mention to me that you might have another child?”

  “After the twins were born, you went on and on about how we couldn’t possibly have any more children. We couldn’t afford it, we had no more room in our home, we had no time.”

  “Right. So you didn’t tell me this because I didn’t want to have another baby?” Anne let out an exasperated sigh. “News flash, Mark. The deed had already been done. Your logic makes no sense.”

  “Put yourself in my shoes.”

  “Believe me. I’m trying to.”

  “As all of this was happening, I was in shock. Complete and utter shock,” Mark said. “Not only did I feel guilty about the timing of our initial relationship, but I felt guilty about Harmony. I’ve had a daughter walking around for eighteen years, and I never knew her. I’d never once thought about her, never attended a graduation or a ball game. Never paid a cent toward her upbringing. Never changed a diaper, kissed her forehead. All those things that we’ve done with Gretchen, Samuel, the twins… I missed out on that with Harmony through no fault of my own.”

  “Some fault of your own.”

  “Angelina never told me!”

  “Never once?” Anne gave a skeptical frown. “She never once hinted that she was carrying your child?”

  “I told you, we didn’t speak after the night I told you that I loved you. I honestly didn’t think about her after that weekend. She never tried to contact me.”

  “Ah.”

  “I know finances have been tight, especially paying for the twins’ daycare, the sports activities, the house repairs—everything hit us at the same time. So I tried to pick up extra shifts at work. I felt obligated to be a part of Harmony’s life when I found out about her.”

  “How noble of you.”

  Mark’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t take the bait. “The situation is complicated. Harmony’s father—the man who raised her—hated that she didn’t belong to him.”

  Anne listened, processing. She was mesmerized to find that while she felt upset and shocked at Mark, she could still feel sympathy for Harmony. Anne pictured her own babies, thought of them being raised by a parent who held no love for them. It made her queasy. It brought back those three days when she’d walked out on her own family. Only she’d been granted the opportunity to walk back in, and she’d never forgotten the gift she’d been given.

  “When Angelina died, her husband wanted nothing to do with Harmony. He kicked her out of the house and made it difficult for her to get what was rightly hers from the will.”

  “That’s unfair.”

  “It is,” Mark agreed, “but she’s still a child. She has no money to hire a lawyer. What could she do?”

  “What did you do?”

  “I helped Harmony find an apartment. It’s in my name, and that’s where I’ve been going on Tuesdays,” Mark said. “We spend a little time together. I bring her groceries now and again. She likes to cook. We play cards. She tells me about school—she’s enrolled in college for next year and wants to declare a criminal justice major.”

  Anne hesitated. “She sounds like a nice girl.”

  “She is. You’d like her.” Mark gave a long pause before leaning forward. He grasped Anne’s hands in his and stared imploringly into her eyes. “I should have told you everything. I just never knew how.”

  “It was right of you to help her,” Anne found herself saying graciously. “But I don’t know what else to say.”

  “I don’t expect y
ou to say anything.”

  “Maybe you should have expected more from me. I was your wife.”

  They both paused at her use of the past tense.

  “You still are,” Mark finally said, his voice a whisper. “Would you consider remaining my wife?”

  “Are there any other secrets you’re keeping from me?” Anne asked. “Anything at all?”

  “No.”

  “Nothing.” Anne’s heart deflated. “Not a thing?”

  Mark stared into her eyes. “About another woman? I promise you, Anne—”

  “I’m talking about us, Mark. Me and you. Things that could jeopardize our family. Our lives.”

  Mark sat back in his seat, his eyes flashing with a hint of calculation. They were soft as they studied her, a siege of resignation taking place in his expression. “You know about the money.”

  Anne felt her heart cracking into shards. “You wouldn’t have told me if I didn’t find out for myself.”

  “There was no need for you to know. There still isn’t. It was a one-time thing, and I was trying to keep you safe.”

  “Roman knew,” she said softly. “He was going to turn you in.”

  Mark blinked. “Roman Tate?”

  “And now he’s dead,” Anne said. “It’s eerily convenient, don’t you think?”

  “I didn’t—” Mark stopped talking, then looked at Anne. After all they’d discussed, this was the first time fear had entered his gaze. “Anne, you didn’t…”

  “Me? You think I killed him?” Anne’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You’re the one who didn’t come home that night! How do I know you didn’t find out about the blackmail?”

  “This is the first I’m hearing about it! The night Roman died, I fell asleep on Harmony’s couch while she cooked dinner,” Mark said. “We were going to watch a show with our food, but the second I sat on the couch, I knocked out. I’d worked overnight the day before and was exhausted.”

  “Very convenient.”

  “When I woke up, hours later, I panicked. I went to work the next day and mumbled something to you about working overtime. Your mother was with the kids, so I didn’t worry about them. I hoped you were too tired after your night out with the girls to notice…”

  “I guess I’ll just have to trust you,” Anne said. “And you’ll have to trust me. I didn’t kill him, Mark. In case you were actually wondering.”

  “Anne…”

  “I could have. He blackmailed me over what you’d done. He took everything from my 401k.”

  Mark’s brow furrowed. “If you’d come to me—”

  “What would you have done?”

  “You tried to keep us together,” Mark said. “Despite everything. Through what you thought was an affair and blackmail and everything else.”

  “You are my husband. The father of my children.” Anne’s voice rose. “I’m a housewife with no credentials and a decades-old résumé. I couldn’t afford to do anything but keep us together.”

  “Is that why?” Mark asked. “Or do you still love me?”

  “Why did you do it?” Tears streamed down Anne’s face. “Why did you take the money?”

  “Extenuating circumstances!” Mark shot to his feet, the outburst too loud for their quiet conversation. He paced back and forth before turning to Anne. “It was a month before the twins were born. You remember that time, don’t you?”

  Anne thought back. She’d been huge with pregnancy and wildly uncomfortable. The other children were going through rough phases. Money was tighter than ever. Mark was working long hours, and their marriage was holding on by a thread. They’d hardly been an example of a happy family.

  “I was on the drug unit at the time.”

  “Working lots of hours,” Anne said. “I remember.”

  “I was trying to make ends meet. We had two babies on the way and could barely afford the two we had. I borrowed money from a friend to pay the mortgage a few months running. I didn’t tell you about that because I was embarrassed. What sort of man can’t support his family?”

  “What sort of man hides things from his wife?”

  Mark sat down in response. “One night on the job, we had a huge bust. Keep in mind, I’d been chasing these guys for months. Going on a year. During that time, I’d been shot at twice. Once, they stabbed me in the leg—almost hit an artery. The hell I’d been through to get these assholes…”

  Anne remembered that part well. The phone call, the hospital visit. The pit in her stomach as she wondered if her husband would survive his injuries.

  “I was back on duty by the time we moved in for the final bust and demanded to be present. These idiots had almost stolen everything from me—my wife, my children, my life—and I was determined to put them behind bars. I never expected we’d find money on the scene. These guys don’t usually keep money on them.”

  “But you did find money.”

  “There was over $1.2 million.” Mark let the number hang there. “Over a million dollars in drug money. I saw it, and I grabbed a stack. I didn’t bother counting it. Didn’t think twice about it. I couldn’t, or I would have put it back.”

  “You should have.”

  “In that moment, all I could see was red. I was so angry at these thugs, so worried about you and the kids. Gretchen was going to need braces. Sam needed those special shoes. The hospital bill for the twins’ deliveries was going to use up our savings. We deserved that money.”

  “It was illegal, Mark. So, so illegal.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” He raised his beer, finished it off. “I regret it. I regret taking the money. Hell, in a sense, I almost regret getting away with it. But I don’t regret doing what I thought was best for my family.”

  Anne’s breath hitched as her husband locked eyes on her.

  “I would do anything for you, Anne. For the kids.” His other hand fisted in his lap. “It’s probably good you didn’t tell me what Roman knew, because I might have done something I regretted.”

  “Apparently someone else did it for you.”

  Mark didn’t look all that upset at the notion. Anne’s frazzled mind ached as she stared at the man she’d thought she’d known better than anyone else on earth. And she wondered if it was true. The true murderer hadn’t been caught yet. Anne was convinced Eliza hadn’t done it…so who had?

  Is it possible? Mark had already lied so much…

  “Why was Roman looking into me?” Mark asked suddenly.

  “I hired a private investigator to tail you.” Anne tried to keep her chin up. “I’m not proud of it, but I had to know. The PI then sold the information he turned up to Roman. It’s a long story. My question is how did the investigator find out? Does someone at work know? Are we in danger?”

  “There’s an account,” Mark said dully. “A banking account I opened up and didn’t tell you about, and if the PI is any good, he would’ve found it. There’s more money in there than I should ever have earned to date. He could’ve dug around, matched the deposits up with my work history, and connected the dots.”

  “You still have money left over?”

  “Yes. It’s how I’ve been able to afford Harmony’s apartment. To make ends meet during months it should never be possible. I’m sorry I never told you, but I just couldn’t explain how the money got there.”

  “What does this mean for us?” Anne asked finally. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “You can turn me in,” Mark said, his eyes glancing up toward hers. “I wouldn’t blame you. Not in the slightest.”

  Anne forced her doubts about her husband to take a back seat. Just for a moment. Suppose he is telling the truth? What would that mean for their marriage? If Anne didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt, just once more, would she regret it?

  “We all make mistakes.”

  “We do,” Mark acknowledged. “That doesn’t excuse them.”

  Anne stood, pushing her empty bottle toward Mark. “I have to think. Alone.”

  “Take as muc
h time as you need. You know where to find me when you’re ready.”

  The couple walked silently through the house. It had gone from an awkward first date to the tired, exhausted reality of a couple married with four children. They had marched through hell and back. They had both made mistakes. There were pains that needed to heal. Wrongs that couldn’t be righted.

  Anne slipped her shoes on, paused in the doorway. “Mark…”

  He stepped closer, his breathing thin and fragile. “Yes?”

  Anne licked her lips, swallowed. “I’ve been thinking… The vanity I threw out the other day…the garbage man didn’t take it, and I didn’t get around to burning it.”

  “You want me to get rid of it for you?”

  “Actually,” Anne whispered, “if you have a spare minute, maybe you could fix the drawers?”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Three Months After

  May 2019

  Penny waddled down the hall and let herself into the casting office. She knew, of course, that this job was only temporary. That it wouldn’t last. The idea of asking about paid maternity leave—or maternity leave in general—was laughable. Benefits weren’t even on the horizon.

  The previous week, Penny had picked up an application at the grocery store down the street from her apartment. It had pained her physically to write her name on the form. But her hospital bills wouldn’t pay themselves.

  As it was, Penny had enough savings to get through a month, maybe two, of self-made maternity leave. She’d already cut every cost she could—she’d given up all her writing classes and patched her car’s bumper with duct tape.

  She’d stashed every cent she could muster into a savings account that would give her a tiny buffer once the baby arrived. But after two months’ time, she’d be back to work. At a grocery store. She’d moved to Hollywood to find herself and, in the process, had lost everything.

  “Penny?”

  It took a moment for Penny to remember that she was at work. Her eyes shot up from the sign-in log at the casting company’s front desk while she registered the sound of a familiar voice. Penny couldn’t quite place it until she laid eyes on a face she hadn’t seen in…almost nine months.