Pretty Revenge (ARC)

by Emily Liebert

  “Maybe,” she whispered. I’d struck a chord. “Or maybe not. Do you really believe every person who gets married is a hundred-percent sure?” In a way I felt sorry for her. In another way, I didn’t. She still has time to make things right. To tell William how she’s feeling, before it’s too late. Although, it doesn’t seem like she’s going to.

  “I’d hope so.”

  “Well, that’s not real life,” she stated plainly.

  “You can still change your mind.” I kept my voice low. That last thing I need is for Jordana to overhear me trying to convince Tatiana not to marry William. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.” I saw what I hoped was a transient flicker of understanding in her expression. But then it disappeared.

  “Are you kidding?” She turned away from me. “There’s no way I could call off the wedding at this point. This wedding has to go on. Because if it doesn’t, then everything will fall apart. It’s not just William’s and my relationship that’s at stake here.” Our eyes met in the mirror.

  I held my tongue. Fine, so Ethel and Arthur would lose a few hefty deposits, but money isn’t an issue for them. And perhaps they’d be embarrassed at having to explain the sudden split to their friends, even though their friends would probably delight in their misfortune. Does any of that really matter, though, if Tatiana and William aren’t happy together?

  “This isn’t some run-of-the-mill social event. We’re in the spotlight. There are expectations. A lot of them.” I wondered what that must feel like. To have every move you make analyzed through a microscope lens. So much so that you’d go through with a marriage even if it didn’t feel right. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter if my feet are a little cold. Anyway, I’m sure it’s natural.”

  Before I could respond, Jordana and Ethel reappeared.

  “The misunderstanding has been resolved,” Jordana announced. “They’ve found the dress. It will be here in twenty minutes. And the shrug will be remade today, with another fitting tomorrow.”

  “Perfect.” Tatiana managed a faint smile.

  “Let’s try on the other gowns while we wait.” Jordana turned to me. “Olivia, can you please grab them?”

  “Sure.”

  Tatiana’s indifference had instilled me with the courage to do what I should have done weeks ago. Suddenly, I felt as ready as I’d ever be. To tell William who I really am. And I how I really feel about him.

  37KERRIE

  By the time I left the office, I had three missed calls from Sara and one message saying she’d come up empty-handed. The Camp David account in the Caymans was legitimate. And she’d hit a dead end. She sounded agitated and impatient. We planned to meet at my apartment in two hours to brainstorm, because—ahead of that—I had something important to take care of.

  I texted William to meet me in front of the Guggenheim as soon as possible. I figured I could walk there faster than he could take a cab, which would give me a few minutes to gather my thoughts and find an empty bench across the street, on the perimeter of Central Park.

  I needed to get this over with quickly or it wasn’t going to happen at all.

  As I waited for William to arrive, I thought some more about how drastically things have changed in the last two months. I uprooted my life by moving from a small town in Connecticut to the second largest city in the world—in case you’re wondering, the first largest is Tokyo. I left the guy I was with for three years. I found a new job. I partnered with Sara to execute a plan for revenge that would honor my nana. And I physically transformed myself into someone I like seeing in the mirror. It’s been exhausting and humbling at times, but it’ll all be worth it.

  I tilted my face toward the sun as a flock of pigeons descended from their perch in the window of a Fifth Avenue building. New York City pigeons do not nest in trees. I watched them swoop onto the sidewalk and gather around a large chunk of blueberry muffin someone had dropped on the street. Only one smaller bird couldn’t break through the huddle. That used to be me, I thought. Always attempting to get what I deserved, but never succeeding. Those days will soon be over. I hope. There’s not much time left.

  A few seconds later William appeared and sat down beside me. His shoulders were hunched. His skin was sallow. He was not the picture of a happy groom. In that moment, I knew I was doing the right thing.

  “Hey.” I turned toward him. “How are you?”

  He exhaled. “I’ve been better. How are you?”

  “I’m not great either.” I cleared my throat. “I need to talk to you about something serious.”

  “Sure, of course.” This got his attention, since it’s usually the other way around.

  “There’s really no way to say this without just coming out with it.”

  “You can tell me anything.” His expression was so earnest, I almost got up and left. “Go ahead.”

  “I’m not exactly who you think I am.”

  “What are you talking about?” His forehead wrinkled with concern.

  “My name isn’t really Olivia Lewis.” I paused while he digested that first crumb of information. “Well, it is. I mean, it’s on my birth certificate that way. But that’s not the point.”

  “You’re losing me here.”

  “My whole life, since I was two, I’ve always gone by Kerrie O’Malley. Kerrie is my middle name, and O’Malley was my nana’s last name. She’s the one who raised me.”

  “Right. In Palm Beach.”

  “William, I’ve never even been to Palm Beach. I grew up in Bridgeport, Connecticut. Like I said, I’m not exactly who you think I am.”

  “Wait, you’re confusing me.” He shook his head. “So, did your parents really die?”

  “Yes, that’s the truth. As is everything else I’ve told you about myself.” Thank God for that.

  “Are you running from the law or something? If so, I can help you.”

  Of course he’d offer to help. “Thank you, but no, I’m not running from the law. I’m not running from anything. I moved here to seek revenge on someone who wronged me. And my family.”

  “Who? Who would wrong you?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “So why are you telling me this now?” He pressed two fingers into his temples.

  “Because you should know that part of my plan to seek revenge indirectly involved sabotaging your wedding.” Suddenly it sounded so much worse than the plan I’d justified in my head.

  “I don’t understand. What does my wedding have to do with your revenge?”

  “I can’t explain it to you. Not yet.”

  “So, what? I’m just supposed to say, ‘Fine, no big deal?’ ”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Olivia, I’m going to need a little more information here. You’re freaking me out.” He placed his hand on my leg. “You can confide in me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “I can’t tell you anything else.”

  “This is insane.” He pulled his hand away. “I thought we were friends.”

  “We are.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it,” he snapped. “I thought I could trust you.”

  “You can.”

  “Olivia. You just told me that you’ve been lying to me about your name. Where you’re from. And that you’ve been trying to ruin my wedding in the name of seeking revenge on some mystery person. You sound a little crazy.”

  “I can see that, but I promise you it’s not the case.” Though honestly, I’m not sure if that’s true anymore. What if he’s right? What if I am crazy?

  “Can you at least give me more of an explanation? Like, why are you doing this? How did this person wrong you? I want to be here for you, but you’re not making it easy.”

  “I know that. And I swear I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “But y
ou did anyway? I revealed things to you, Olivia. Private things. I told you stuff about my relationship with Tatiana that no one else knows. And obviously you took advantage of that. You used it for your own agenda.”

  “I never used those things against you. It wasn’t like I knew you personally when this all started. I was only trying to get what I deserved.”

  “Oh, that makes it so much better.” His tone was suddenly acerbic. He’s never spoken to me that way before. “You say you were only trying to get what you deserved, but it’s clear that you didn’t care if you screwed with a bunch of other people’s lives in the process. Maybe you should look into sainthood.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “You already said that. But a simple sorry doesn’t cut it if you can’t even give me the slightest bit of clarification.” William looked at me through bloodshot eyes. “I thought you were different. But you’re just out for yourself like everyone else.” He stood up abruptly.

  “Wait, there’s more.”

  “I’ve heard enough.”

  “It’s about Tatiana.” And us.

  “Save it. Why would I believe you anyway?”

  “Please listen, William. You can’t marry her. You can’t go through with this wedding.”

  “I’m done here. You’re not the person I thought you were.” His phone buzzed then. “It’s Tatiana; I have to go.”

  “Wait.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Please, William.”

  “Good-bye, Kerrie.” He hurried into the street and hailed a cab before I could say any more. I wanted to call to him, but the words didn’t come fast enough. Sure I could have gone after him, but I didn’t.

  Honestly, I’m not completely sure what I’m running toward anymore.

  38KERRIE

  “Thank God you’re here,” Sara said when I finally arrived at my apartment.

  The truth is, after my conversation with William, I wasn’t in the mood for company. I’d taken the long way home, lurching through the streets of my extended neighborhood, intentionally avoiding speaking to anyone. You’d think anonymity would be easy to achieve in New York City, but it always seems that the very moment you want to go unnoticed is the very moment everyone wants to notice you.

  “Come on in.” I unlocked the door and reluctantly let her inside. My feet were swollen from pounding the cement sidewalks and my back was aching from a string of restless nights. Giving up had never seemed as seductive a prospect. But by the determined look on Sara’s face, I knew she wasn’t about to let that happen.

  “Let’s sit at the kitchen table,” I suggested, hearing the strain in my own voice.

  “We have a huge fucking problem,” Sara announced, as soon as I’d draped my cardigan over the back of my chair and slumped into it. She spread her arms to wings’ length to indicate just how huge it was.

  “What’s the problem?” I asked, when what I really wanted to do was pour us each a glass of wine and confide in her what had happened with William.

  “I’m at a standstill.” Her fists were balled. “This asshole is clean as a whistle.”

  “You’re absolutely sure?”

  “Yes,” she snapped. “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve gone over everything I could find on Arthur. I’ve burned through all my contacts and pursued every single lead. And nothing.” She leaned forward, ensnaring her fingers in a twitchy cluster.

  “So then that’s it?” I felt strangely relieved. I could still reveal Jordana’s demons without taking down Arthur. And it wouldn’t have to ruin William and Tatiana’s wedding.

  “No.” Sara shook her head vehemently. “There has to be something else. Anything.”

  “Maybe there’s not. We knew this could happen.”

  “I refuse to believe that.”

  “I know you don’t want to admit it, but isn’t it possible that Arthur isn’t a criminal after all?” I find it pretty ironic that, while I was the one who originally came up with the idea, Sara is now the rabid one.

  She looked at me accusingly. “No. And you better not be throwing in the towel.”

  “I’m not.” I could be.

  “Then think,” Sara pled. “Think of anything. Any little morsel of information that could mean something.”

  We sat quietly for a few minutes. Suddenly our plan felt so disconnected from my own motives toward Jordana, even though I know the consequences will achieve the same end.

  “I’ve got nothing.”

  “Jesus, Olivia.” She folded her arms across her chest. “The least you could do is try to participate. This was your mission to begin with.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I wish I could think of something. I need more time.”

  “We don’t have time. We’ve come this far. Do not give up now.”

  “I already said I’m not.”

  “Good.” She nodded briskly. “Because nobody respects a quitter.”

  39KERRIE

  By nine o’clock the following morning, with just over forty-eight hours left until Tatiana and William say their ‘I Do’s,’ I found myself standing in front of the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building of the New York Public Library, commonly known as the Main Branch, waiting for Jordana to meet me.

  The best and only way to describe the entrance to the library is regal, with its three-feet-thick marble, twenty thousand blocks of stone, and two arresting lion sculptures—which the website tells me are named Patience and Fortitude—trapping either side of the stairway.

  “Sorry, I’m running behind.” Jordana appeared minutes later, looking polished as ever in a royal-blue shift dress and nude, patent leather heels with red bottoms, which even I can now identify as Christian Louboutins.

  “No worries.” I saw her recoil a little. She hates that expression.

  “Let’s go.” She walked ahead of me and I followed her inside. “It’s imperative to see the rooms a couple of days before any event, even though they won’t be entirely set up. It allows for last-minute alternations should any be necessary, which I hope they’re not.” She spoke quietly.

  “That makes sense.” I lowered my voice too, as a security guard approached.

  “Hello.” Jordana smiled politely. “We have an appointment to see the Doonan-Blum wedding spaces.” Clearly, anyone who worked at the museum would be well apprised of the grand affair.

  “And you are?”

  “Jordana Pierson.” Every time she says her name, I note the elegant cadence. It sounds so much better than Jordan Butler. In the same way Olivia Lewis turns her nose up at Kerrie O’Malley.

  “Just a second.” He held up his index finger before engaging in a swift and garbled dialogue on his walkie-talkie. “You’re all set. You know the way?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Jordana lead me to the Celeste Bartos Forum, where the reception would take place. A seated dinner for four-hundred-and twenty-five guests. I’ll never forget that number, not just because it’s astronomical, but because Ethel has continually lamented the fact that she had to offend at least a hundred others who didn’t make the cut.

  “Wow, this is spectacular.” As we entered the cavernous space with its thirty-foot-high glass saucer dome ceiling and sixty-four-hundred-square-feet of real estate, it suddenly occurred to me that William is going to marry Tatiana. And that once they’ve been pronounced husband and wife, this is where they’re going to celebrate their lifelong commitment to each other. With four-hundred-and-twenty-three of their family members and friends. I felt sick.

  “Wait until you see it all dressed up. The vendors will be arriving this afternoon and working straight through the next two days. I’ll be spending a lot of time here overseeing.” Jordana wandered around, swabbing surfaces with her fingertip and scrutinizing everything within reach.

  “Where did you and John get married?”

  “The Metropolitan Club
on Sixtieth and Fifth,” she answered instantly and without emotion. “Let’s move on to where the ceremony will take place.”

  “Right behind you.” I trailed after her as she took off down the hallway to continue her white-glove inspection.

  An hour later—after she’d made note of two lightbulbs that needed replacing—Jordana was finally ready to leave. She had a meeting with our bride, Lucy Noble, and since there was still plenty of follow-up to be done for The Wedding of the Century, I was anxious to get back to work.

  “I’ll be at the office in a couple of hours,” she said, raising her arm to hail a taxi. “Would you please email me the file called NobleCooper3 when you get in? It’s on my computer. This way I’ll have everything in front of me for Lucy. Whenever I’m with her, I feel like I’m being cross-examined. Typical lawyer.”

  “Sure, no problem. But it should be in our shared files. I can send it right now from my phone.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so. There was a copy on my desktop so I just worked off that one.”

  “That probably wasn’t the most updated version. But don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

  “Perfect.” She smiled gratefully. “I’ll see you soon.”

  * * *

  Once Jordana was gone, I walked to the subway station at Forty-­Second and Lex and took the train uptown. I was at my desk within fifteen minutes and ready to conquer the long list of tasks at hand, when I remembered the file for Jordana. I opened her laptop and waited for the screen to spring to life. Discouragingly, her desktop was still as big of a disaster as it was when I first met her. Random files and folders everywhere. Remarkable, since she’s so particular about everything else.

  I found the file she was referring to, but as expected, it was an old draft and needed to be revised, which would take time, assuming I could find where she’d saved everything else.

  That was when it caught my eye. The folder titled CD. The one Jordana had told me contained some documents of John’s. I opened it up and searched through a few of them. Just a lot of numbers, as she’d said. Numbers that made no sense to her or to me. But a nagging feeling had me on edge, so I emailed everything to Sara. Just in case.