The Consequence of His Vengeance

by Jennie Lucas

  “My father...?” Letty said slowly. “Is dying?”

  Mrs. Pollifax’s expression changed. “You didn’t know?”

  Shocked, she shook her head. “There must...must be some mistake. My father’s not sick. He’s fine. He’s living without a care in the world...going to the park every day to play chess...”

  “Oh, my dear.” Coming closer, the housekeeper gently put her hand on Letty’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I judged you wrongly. I thought you knew. He collapsed a few weeks ago and has been in the hospital ever since. When I visited him yesterday, he didn’t look well. He might have only weeks left. Days.”

  A loud rushing sound went through Letty’s ears.

  “No,” she said numbly. “It has to be a mistake.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re wrong.” Shaking off the housekeeper’s hand, Letty reached for her phone. She dialed Darius’s number first. When it went to voice mail, she hung up.

  She took a deep breath. Her hands shook as she deliberately broke her vow to her husband for the first time. Her father had always hated cell phones, disparaging them as “tracking devices,” so she called him at their old apartment number.

  That, too, went to voice mail. But it was no longer Letty’s voice on the phone greeting. Her father had replaced it with his own. For the first time in two months, she heard his recorded voice, and it sounded different. Fragile. Weak.

  Terror rushed through her.

  Her body was shaking as she looked up at Mrs. Pollifax. “Which hospital?”

  The housekeeper told her. “But you’re in no fit state to drive. I’ll have Collins bring around the car. Shall I come with you?”

  Letty shook her head numbly.

  The older woman bit her lip, looking sad. “He’s in room 302.”

  The drive to Brooklyn seemed to take forever. When they finally arrived at the large, modern hospital, Letty’s body shook as she raced inside.

  She didn’t stop at reception, just hurried to the elevator, holding her heavy, aching belly. On the third floor, she followed the signs toward room 302.

  Her steps slowed when she saw a man sitting in the waiting area. He looked up and saw her, too. She frowned. She recognized him from somewhere...

  But she didn’t stop, just headed straight for her father’s room.

  “Miss!” a nurse called anxiously as she passed the third-floor reception desk, barreling toward the corner room. “Please wait just a moment.”

  “It’s all right,” Letty said. “I’m his daughter.” She pushed open the door. “Dad. Dad! I’m—”

  But the room was empty.

  Letty stared around in shock. Was she in the wrong room? Had she misunderstood?

  Was he—oh, God—surely he couldn’t be...?

  “I’m sorry,” a woman said behind her.

  “You should be!” her father’s gruff voice retorted.

  With a sob, Letty whirled around.

  In the doorway her living, breathing father was sitting in a wheelchair, glaring back at the dark-haired nurse struggling to push him through the doorway.

  “You practically ran me into a wall. Where’d you learn how to drive?”

  Letty burst into noisy tears. Her father turned his head and saw her, and his gaunt, pale features lit up with joy.

  “Letty. You came.”

  Throwing her arms around his thin frame in the wheelchair, she choked out, “Of course I came. As soon as I heard you were sick. Then when I didn’t see you in the bed, I thought...”

  “Oh, you thought I was dead? No!” Glancing back at the nurse, he added drily, “Not for some people’s lack of trying.”

  “Hmph.” The nurse sniffed. “That’s the last time I agree to help you win a wheelchair race, Howard.”

  “Win! We didn’t win anything! Margery crushed us by a full ten seconds, in spite of her extra pounds. After all my big talk, too—I’ll never live this down,” he complained.

  Letty drew back with astonishment. “Wheelchair race?”

  “Admittedly not one of my best ideas, especially with Nurse Crashy here.”

  “Hey!”

  “But it’s what passes for fun here in the hospice wing. Either that or depress myself with cable news.”

  “It’s totally against hospital protocol. I can’t believe you talked me into it. Ask someone else to risk their job next time,” the nurse said.

  He gave her his old charming grin. “The race was a good thing. It lifted the spirits of everyone on the wing.”

  Looking slightly mollified, she sighed. “I guess I’d better go try convince my boss of that.” She left the room.

  Her father turned back to Letty. “But why are you crying? You really thought I was dead?”

  She tried to smile. “You’re crying, too, Dad.”

  “Am I?” Her father touched his face. He gave her a watery smile. “I’m just glad to see you, I guess. I was starting to wonder if you’d ever come.”

  “I came the instant I heard,” she whispered, feeling awful and guilty.

  Howard gave a satisfied nod. “I knew he’d eventually tell you.”

  “Who?”

  “Darius. Sure, I promised I’d never contact you. But there was nothing in our deal that said I couldn’t contact him. I left him a message four weeks ago, when I woke up in the hospital. I’d collapsed in the street, so an ambulance brought me here.”

  Four weeks? Letty was numb with shock. Darius had known for a month that her father was in the hospital, just an hour away from Fairholme?

  Her father stroked his wispy chin. “Though I’m pretty sure he knew even before that. He’s had me followed since the day you ran off with him. The guy must have noticed me going to my doctor’s office three times a week.”

  She sucked in her breath, covering her mouth. Not just one month, but two? Darius had known her father was sick, dying, but he’d purposefully kept it from her?

  Your father is spending his days playing chess with friends down at the park.

  A lie!

  Last night, when she and Darius had been cuddled by the fire, dreaming about their child, even then, her husband had been lying to her. While Letty had been eating cookies and drinking tea, her father had been spending yet another night in this hospital. Alone. Without a single word of love from his only daughter.

  A cold sweat broke out on her skin. She trembled as if to fight someone or flee. But there was no escaping the horrible truth.

  Darius had lied to her.

  The man she’d loved since childhood. The center of all her romantic dreams and longings. He’d known her father was dying, and he’d lied.

  How could Darius have been so callous? So selfish, heartless and cruel?

  The answer was obvious.

  He didn’t love her.

  He never would.

  A gasp of anguish and rage came from the back of her throat.

  “He never gave you the message, did he?” her father said, watching her. When she shook her head, he sighed. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Mrs. Pollifax.”

  “I see.” He looked sad. Then his eyes fell to her belly and he brightened as he changed the subject. “You’re so big! You’re just a week or two from your due date, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve almost made it.” His voice was smug. “The doctors said I was a goner, but I told them I wasn’t going anyplace yet.”

  Letty’s body was still shaking with grief and fury. In the gray light of the hospital room, she turned toward the window. Outside, she saw November rain falling on the East River, and beyond it she could see the skyscrapers of Manhattan. Where Darius was right now.

  Howard said dreamily behind her, “I was determined to see my grandbaby before I died.”

  She whirled back to her father. “Stop talking about dying!”

  His gaunt face sagged. “I’m sorry, Letty. I really am.”

  “Isn’t there any hope?” Her voice cracked. “An o
peration? A—a second opinion?”

  Her father’s eyes were kind. He shook his head. “I knew I was dying before I left prison.”

  She staggered back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He rubbed his watery eyes. “I should have, I guess. But I didn’t want you to worry and take all the stress on yourself like you always do. I wanted, for once, to take care of you. I wanted to repair the harm I did so long ago and get you back where you deserved to be. Married to your true love.”

  True love, Letty thought bitterly. Her stomach churned every time she thought of Darius lying to her all this time. The unfeeling bastard.

  “It was my only goal,” her father said. “To make sure you’d be looked after and loved after I was gone. Now you and Darius are married, expecting a baby.” He grinned with his old verve and said proudly, “Getting my arm broken by that thug was the best thing that ever happened to me, since it helped me bring you back together. I can die at peace. A happy man.”

  “Darius never told me you were sick,” she choked out, her throat aching with pain. “I’ll never forgive him.”

  Her father’s expression changed. “Don’t blame Darius. After all my self-made disasters, it just shows his good sense. Shows me he’ll protect you better than I ever did.” He looked up from the wheelchair. “Thank you, Letty.”

  She felt like the worst daughter in the world. “For what?”

  “For always believing in me,” he said softly, “even when you had no reason to. For loving me through everything.”

  She looked at her dying father through her tears. Then looked around the hospital room at the plain bed, the tile floor, the antiseptic feel, the ugly medical equipment. She couldn’t bear to think of him spending his last days here, whiling away his hours with wheelchair races.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Do you really need to be in the hospital?”

  Howard shrugged. “I could have gone to full hospice. Other than pain meds, there’s not much the doctors can do for me.”

  Her belly tightened with a contraction that felt like nothing compared to the agony of her heart. She lifted her chin. “Then you’re coming home with me.”

  Howard looked at her in disbelief. “Back to that apartment? No, thanks. At least the hospital isn’t cold all the time and someone brings me meals...”

  “Not the apartment. I’m taking you to Fairholme.”

  His eyes looked dazzled.

  “Fairholme?” he breathed. She saw the joy in his wrinkled face. Then he blinked, looking troubled. “But Darius—”

  “I’ll handle him.” Wrapping her arms around her father’s thin shoulders, she kissed the wispy top of his head. Her father’s last days would be happy ones, she vowed. He would die in the home that he’d adored, where he’d once lived with his beloved wife and raised his child, surrounded by comfort and love.

  Letty would take care of him as he’d once taken care of her.

  And, she thought grimly, she’d also take care of Darius.

  She’d loved her husband with all her heart. Now she saw that all the sacrifices she’d made, all of her trust, had been for nothing. For an illusion. Darius didn’t love her. He would never love her.

  It was his final betrayal. And for this, she would never forgive him.

  * * *

  Darius walked into his office near Battery Park with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. He was late but had an excellent reason. He’d stopped at his favorite jeweler’s on Fifth Avenue to buy a push present for his wife.

  He’d read about push presents in a parenthood article. It was a gift that men gave the mothers of their children after labor and delivery, in celebration and appreciation of all their hours of pain and hard work. Since Letty’s due date was so close, Darius had known he had no time to lose. He’d found the perfect gift—exquisite emerald earrings, surrounded by diamonds, set in gold, almost as beautiful as her hazel eyes. They’d even once belonged to a queen of France. With Letty’s love of history, he knew she’d get a kick out of that, and he could hardly wait to give them to her. And even more amazing: when he did, their son would be real at last, and in their arms.

  Darius realized he was whistling the same hokey lullaby that his wife had sung in the shower that morning to their unborn baby.

  He loved Letty’s voice.

  He loved their home.

  And he loved that he’d been able to blow off half a morning of work in order to get her a gift. It was supposedly one of the perks of being a boss, but at his last company, he’d been too grimly driven to do anything but grind out work. So he could build his fortune. So he could be worth something.

  But even after he’d succeeded, even when he’d finally been rich beyond imagination, he’d been unhappy. He realized that now. He’d spent ten years doing nothing but work, and when he’d sold his company he’d felt lost. Money hadn’t fulfilled him quite as much as he’d thought it would.

  But now, everything had changed. Both in his work and his life.

  He was building a new company. A free website would teach software coding, math and science skills, so others could have the opportunities he’d had, to get good jobs or perhaps even start their own tech companies someday.

  His goal wasn’t to build a fortune. He already had more than he could spend in a lifetime. When he’d paid out billions of dollars to Howard Spencer’s victims, he hadn’t even missed it.

  Letty was teaching him—reminding him?—how a good life was lived.

  Throughout their marriage, as Fairholme had every day become more beautiful, so had his pregnant wife. She was huge now, and she glowed. Every day she told him how much she loved him. He could feel it, her love for him, warming him like a fire in winter.

  There was only one flaw.

  One secret he was keeping.

  And he knew it might ruin everything.

  Darius’s steps slowed as he crossed through the open office with the exposed brick walls.

  Letty’s father was dying. And Darius didn’t know how to tell her.

  He hadn’t wanted to believe it was true at first. For weeks, he’d insisted it was all an elaborate con. “Call me when he’s dead,” he’d told his investigator half-seriously.

  Then he’d gotten a message from Howard Spencer himself, saying he was in the hospital. Even then, for a few days, Darius had told himself it was a lie. Until his investigator had combed through the hospital records and confirmed it was true. Darius had no choice but to face it.

  Now he had to tell Letty.

  But how? How could he explain to her all his weeks of silence, when he’d known her father was dying in a Brooklyn hospital?

  Darius still believed he’d done the right thing. He and Letty had made a deal at the start of their marriage: no contact with her father. There hadn’t been any fine print or “get out of jail free” card if the man decided to die. All Darius had done was uphold their deal. He had nothing to feel guilty about. He hadn’t just paid Spencer’s debts, but also his living expenses and even his medical bills. He’d practically acted like a saint.

  Somehow, he didn’t think Letty would see it that way.

  Darius dreaded her reaction. He’d halfheartedly started to tell her last night, but stopped, telling himself he didn’t want to risk raising her blood pressure when she was so close to delivery. He didn’t want to risk her health, or the baby’s.

  After the baby’s born, he promised himself firmly. Once he knew both mother and baby were safe and sound.

  She would be angry at first, he knew. But after she’d had some time to think it over, she’d realize that he’d only been trying to protect her. And it was in her nature to forgive. She had no choice. She loved him.

  Feeling calmer, he walked past his executive assistant’s desk toward his private office. “Good morning, Mildred.”

  Lifting her eyebrows, she greeted him with “Your wife is on the line.”

  “My wife?” A smile lifted unbidden to his face, as it always did when he thought of Let
ty.

  “She said you weren’t answering your cell.”

  Instinctively, Darius put his hand to his trouser pocket. It was empty. He must have left it in the car.

  “Mrs. Kyrillos sounds pretty stressed.” His executive assistant, usually stern and no-nonsense, gave him a rare smile. “She said it’s urgent.”

  Letty never called him at work. His smile changed to a dazed grin. There could be only one reason she’d call now, so close to her due date!

  “I’ll take it in my office,” he said joyfully and rushed inside, shutting the door behind him. He snatched up the phone. “Letty? Is it the baby? Are you in labor?”

  His wife’s voice sounded strangely flat. “No.”

  “Mildred said it was urgent—”

  “It is urgent. I’m leaving you. I’m filing for divorce.”

  For a long moment he just gripped the phone, that foolish grin still on his face, as he tried to comprehend her words. Then the smile fell away.

  “What are you talking about? Is this some kind of joke?”

  “No.”

  He took a deep breath. “I’ve read about pregnancy hormones...”

  Anger suddenly swelled from the other end of the line.

  “Pregnancy hormones? Pregnancy hormones? I’m divorcing you because you lied to me. You’ve been lying for months! My father is dying and you never told me!”

  Darius’s heart was suddenly in his throat.

  “How did you find out?” he whispered.

  “Mrs. Pollifax couldn’t understand how I could be such a heartless daughter to just let my father die alone. Don’t worry. I’ve let her know that the heartless one is you.”

  He looked up, past his desk to the window overlooking the southern tip of Manhattan, and the Atlantic beyond it. Outside, rain fell in the gray November morning.

  He licked his lips and tried, “Letty, I don’t blame you for being upset—”

  “Upset? No. I’m not upset.” She paused. “I’m happy.”

  That was so obviously not true he had no idea how to react. “If you’ll just give me a chance to explain.”