The Prisoner(37)

“Why?”

“Because I found out something unsavory about her, something that would tarnish the reputation of the magazine.”

“Unsavory? Like what?” I had to play along; he held the key to my freedom. “It’s just that I know Justine, and I can’t imagine her doing anything that would hurt the magazine. It’s not as if she gets drunk, or does drugs, or—”

A light went on in Ned’s eyes. “That’s exactly it,” he cut in. “I found out that she’d been taking drugs. And, as you know, we have a no-drugs policy at the magazine, because of what happened to my brother. I had no choice, I had to let her go.”

I felt suddenly sick. When he had been speaking to his father, Ned had never said why he had terminated Justine’s contract, and Jethro Hawthorpe had never asked. I didn’t know what Ned would have come up with if he’d been put on the spot—but now, I’d supplied him with the perfect excuse for firing her.

“I don’t believe it,” I said loudly. “I know Justine, she wouldn’t touch drugs.”

Ned pushed his chair back. “Well, there’s a lesson for you, Amelie. We don’t always know people as well as we think.”

“Don’t worry, it’s one I’ve already learned,” I hissed, as he walked from the room.





CHAPTER FORTY-ONE


PRESENT

I walk to the window, the strips of cardboard in my hands, and wedge them in the gap between it and the wooden board. I bend to look through the gap, but there’s no glimmer of light. I straighten up, puzzled. It’s not been long since I was brought my porridge, I should be able to see a sliver of daylight. I jam my fingers into the gap, make it a little wider, as I’ve done before. I still can’t see daylight. Was it my imagination, those other times?

Voices reach me, they’re talking downstairs. I move to my corner, push the mattress from the wall.

“I have news, Ned,” I hear his abductor say. “Dumping your wife’s body on your father’s doorstep seems to have had the desired effect. He wants to talk.”

“You should have killed her earlier,” Ned says.

“Maybe. But if we had, we wouldn’t have gotten such a great payout.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know how much we initially asked for?”

“No.”

“Take a guess.”

“I don’t know—a million?”

“We asked for a pound, Ned. One pound to get you back. And you know what? Your father refused. Imagine that.”

I frown at the mention of a pound. Why would they only ask for a pound?

The same thought has occurred to Ned.

“You expect me to believe it?” he sneers. “That you asked for a pound and my father refused to pay it?”

“It’s true. When we told him that if he didn’t pay the pound, we’d double it to two pounds the next day, and continue doubling the amount for every day that he refused to pay, do you know what he did? He laughed.”

My heart almost stops.

“What the fuck?” Ned says, his voice rising. “Who are you? What did that bitch tell you?”

I flinch at the fury in his voice, my mind reeling, echoing Ned’s question. Who are these people?

“Yes, your father didn’t take us seriously at first,” the man goes on, ignoring Ned’s outburst. “Which, considering you’ve already been here twenty-three days, is going to end up costing him a lot of money.”

“And you think my father can’t afford a few thousand pounds?” Ned is all bravado now.

“Work it out, Ned. Twenty-three days. I think you’ll find it comes to a lot more than a few thousand pounds.”

The door below slams shut, I hear Ned curse. I stay as I am, too stunned to move. How is it possible? They can’t know about the postnup, it must be a coincidence.





CHAPTER FORTY-TWO


PAST

Ned called me to his study. There was a man with him in a smart suit and tie, polished shoes, black-rimmed glasses, a black bag on the floor beside him. He sat across from Ned, his laptop perched precariously on the edge of the desk, as if he was worried about taking up too much space.

“Darling, this is Paul Carr, my father’s attorney. He has a document for you to sign.”

The darling—a warning that I needed to play the game—set my teeth on edge.

“What is it?” I asked.

“A postnup,” Ned explained. “In case we ever divorce.”

I sat down in the chair next to Paul Carr, and took the paper Ned held out to me. It stated that Ned and I were married on Thursday, August 1, 2019, in Las Vegas and the terms were simple: if we separated, I would receive fifty thousand pounds.

Fifty thousand. I kept my head bent over the document so that Ned couldn’t see my anger. How dared he? But I had prepared for this, I knew exactly how I was going to play it.

I looked up. “I’m sorry, darling, I can’t sign this.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that I don’t think fifty thousand is very fair.”

His face tightened in annoyance. “How much do you want?”

“A million.”