Fidelity (Infidelity #5)(72)

“Eww,” Charli said, turning a small circle. “His son. Suzanna and Alton’s affair has been going on for nearly thirty years?” She took a deep breath. “I think I feel ill.”

“You didn’t marry him. Even Porter isn’t claiming you did.”

Her head moved back and forth. “B-but he wanted me to. Alton was pushing me to.”

“So Spencer would have access to everything Montague.”

Charli sat back on the edge of the sofa. “That would make sense, but did my grandfather know? Is that why he stipulated Bryce in the will?”

“We’re jumping to conclusions,” Deloris said.

“And… my grandfather? Did Momma accuse Alton of killing him? What the hell?”

“It’s because of the date on the codicil,” I volunteered. “The law student who used to work for Hamilton and Porter and now works with Daryl told us about it last week. Your grandfather approved the codicil the day he died. Stephen thought it was weird.”

Charli’s eyes opened wide. “My whole family is fucked up.”

A grin came to my lips. “And I thought I had the market cornered on that family trait.”

She stood again and reached for my hand. “Tell me we’ll go back home soon. My mom deserves a hug.”

“Your stepfather is going to fight her,” Deloris said. “He’s calling Ralph Porter right now.”

Charli shrugged. “She knows that, but did you hear her? No matter what he says or does, she’ll always have that.” Her smile returned. “I’ll always have it.” She tugged my hand, pulling herself toward me and looked up. “Hi, I’m Alexandria Collins. I’m twenty-four years old and I just met my mother. She’s kind of kick-ass.”

I kissed Charli’s forehead. “I think I know how you feel. And I’d say her daughter is even more kick-ass.”

“I hate to be the one to break up this tender moment,” Deloris said. “But go back to your room and let me monitor…” Her eyes widened and nose scrunched as she lifted the earphones now replacing the speakers toward her ears. “…this tirade.”

Even through earphones the tenor of Fitzgerald’s voice could be heard.

“You might want to adjust that volume again,” Charli said.

“Batplane? Our apartment?” I asked, hoping for an earlier exit.

She shook her head. “Our suite for tonight. The dust hasn’t settled for Chelsea.”

My gut twisted with the apprehension Savannah induced in me. “Twenty-four hours.”

“Yes, Mr. Demetri.”





THE CLICK OF the old-fashioned elevator slowly moving upward was replaced by loud voices arguing as we ascended to the second floor of Hamilton and Porter.

I reached for Nox’s hand, recognizing the loudest voice. Nox didn’t ask. He knew the voice too. He’d heard it last night in Deloris’s suite. I envied his limited exposure. I’d heard it most of my life.

“What the hell?” Nox said. “You asked her to be here, set up this appointment knowing that he’d be here?”

“No, sir,” Natalie said, “Miss Collin’s appointment was set first.” She opened the cage-like door. “I didn’t know they’d be so loud. Let me take you to another room. He won’t know you’re here.”

“The entire will, Ralph. You told me she knew about the codicil, but not the entire will!”

I stood taller, my feet unwilling to move as Alton’s voice echoed down the corridor.

“Alton, she’s lying. I have the records from when she was here. They concentrated on the codicil.”

“Fix it! She wants a divorce. It’s not happening. She agreed to no divorce. We’ll fight her at every turn.”

“Calm down.”

“Calm down? You want me to calm down as everything I’ve worked for vanishes? It’s not just me. You’ve helped. You know what you’ve done. I’m not losing everything without…”

Nox tugged my hand, pulling me toward Natalie and Mr. Owen as Isaac stayed by our sides. The voices faded as we turned a corner and entered the conference room.

No one spoke as Natalie shut the door.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Mr. Fitzgerald wasn’t on Mr. Porter’s schedule. He just showed up.”

“Showed up?” Nox asked. “You’re sure he doesn’t know that Alex is here?”

“No, sir. If you’d prefer to reschedule?”

My heart beat rapidly as I increased the pressure on my clenched teeth. I shook my head. I didn’t want to reschedule. I wanted to get on the Batplane and fly back to New York. I wanted to talk to my mother about the accusations she’d made during her telephone call with Alton. I wanted to know why she suspected that Alton had a hand in my grandfather’s death. I wanted to know why she referred to Bryce as Alton’s son and why he didn’t refute her.

I took a step back and sank to one of the cushioned chairs at the table, my stomach twisting with each thought. I had questions. I needed answers.

Sleep had been evasive as I mulled over Mother and Alton’s conversation in my head. Sometime during the night I’d made a mental leap. If Momma blamed Alton for my grandfather’s death, could he also be responsible for my father’s?