The Ex by Freida McFadden(81)

“I have to hand it to your grandfather,” Anna goes on. “It really does look like a first edition. I brought it to an expert and even he had trouble proving it was a forgery. I can see how they managed to fool all those people.”

Cassie had been shocked the first time she heard the story. It started innocently enough, when Grandpa Marv had somehow gotten his hands on a real first edition of Gone With the Wind. It was in good condition, and he sold it for ten-thousand dollars. After several collectors heard about this sale, he received multiple calls asking if he had any other collectible editions. He didn’t. But it gave him an idea.

It turns out forging old books is not at all difficult. Marv bought walnut oil to age the books and would read up for hours on techniques to make the books appear old and worn. Then he forged certificates of authenticity.

His saving grace was that he didn’t get greedy. He only sold off one book every few months—just enough to keep the floundering bookstore from going under.

Bea and Marv never would have done it if they weren’t desperate. Cassie didn’t discover the truth until Grandpa Marv was already gone, and she was helping Bea sort through some of his belongings. Cassie had picked up one of the perfect first editions and stared at it, hoping it was real but knowing in her heart it couldn’t be.

Bea’s excuses were tearful. We couldn’t make enough money. We would have lost everything.

You can never do this again, Cassie admonished her.

But Bea did it again, and Cassie turned a blind eye, knowing her grandmother did what she had to. It was only six months after Bea’s death when she got a call from a collector herself. Do you have anything I can buy?

She said no. She said no to the next person who called too. But in a month when sales were particularly dismal, Cassie thought to herself, Well, what’s the harm?

Each time she made a transaction, she would tell herself it was the last one. But what choice did she have? Without that extra money, her business was gone. She couldn’t lose her grandparents’ store.

And she wasn’t hurting anyone. Not really. The forgeries were excellent, nearly indistinguishable from the originals. At the time of his death, he had a whole drawer full of his perfect forgeries. And a list of rich and foolish clients who would take them off his hands for an excellent price.

The buyers thought they now owned the originals. Bookland kept its doors open. And every day, Cassie was terrified of the police banging on her door.

“These things always catch up to you eventually.” Anna cocks her head to the side. “Did anyone ever question you when you were unloading those books onto your unsuspecting victims?”

Cassie swallows a hard lump in her throat. “Sometimes.”

Anna cocks her head to the side. “What do you think the jail sentence is for forgery?”

Cassie has looked this up many times. Depending on the amount of money involved, the penalty for forgery can be anywhere from a misdemeanor warranting a fine and probation, or it can be a felony with a ten-year prison sentence. But Cassie knows how much money was involved. It would be a felony.

“And to see your lovely grandparents’ names dragged through the mud in the newspapers…” Anna clucks her tongue. “So sad. So unnecessary.”

“What do you want?” Cassie whispers.

Anna’s eyes darken. “End it with him. Tonight. And you never have to hear from me again.”

“But…” Cassie sputters. “You’re so happy. You have a beautiful son. And you love Con, don’t you?”

“Of course I love him! This isn’t about him.”

“But… why…?”

Anna considers the question for a moment, cocking her head to the side. “You know how they say the best revenge is living well?”

Cassie’s mouth is too dry to speak but she manages to nod.

“Well, that’s bullshit,” Anna says. “The best revenge is making sure the people who wronged you lose everyone they love and die miserable and alone.”

With those words, Anna turns on her heel, opens the door, and leaves the room.



Anna



Up until my delivery, I was having the ideal pregnancy. Aside from my insomnia, I had never felt better. I never even had morning sickness. And Dean and I were so excited about the baby coming, it was all we could think about. Our marriage had never been stronger.

Then things went wrong.

I was in labor for over two days before the monitor on my belly showed the baby in distress. I needed to go for a C-section. Immediately. STAT.

Considering my husband is a doctor himself and had taken part in many surgeries during his training, I’d never seen him so white. But he gowned up as they rushed me in for the C-section. He held my hand, even as the monitor started beeping furiously. Something is wrong. It was my last thought before I lost consciousness.

I found out later that they couldn’t stop the bleeding. They told Dean I would die if they didn’t perform a hysterectomy. He told them to go ahead and do it. I don’t blame him for that decision, even though he beat himself up over the whole thing later. He wanted his son and his wife to survive. He did what he had to do.

After a transfusion of several units of blood, I recovered. We had a beautiful, perfect newborn boy. But it was bittersweet. Dean and I hadn’t decided how many children we wanted, but we were agreed on at least one more. Finding out I would never get pregnant again was a tremendous blow. I begged him not to tell anyone because I couldn’t stand the outpouring of sympathy.