Deception (Infidelity #3)(23)

I felt him stand taller, humming as he assessed his wounds. He tugged my arms farther, eliciting a whimper I tried to suppress.

“You made me bleed.” He laughed. “Yes, this is going to be fun.” With his lips once again near my ear, he whispered, “If I bleed, so do you.”



The night was one I’d rather forget, but Alexandria was worth every minute.

I’d made a promise, and on some level, Alton knew I’d keep it.

Though I wasn’t plunging the knife into his neck, my plan for this evening would have a similar result. I’d tried everything. Alexandria wouldn’t listen, and I didn’t blame her. She was happy. I could hear it in her voice.

My daughter wasn’t me. She was Russell through and through. She didn’t care about Montague. She didn’t love Bryce. And with each passing day, Bryce’s discontent with her decision was becoming more evident. Instead of getting closer to my goal, as I’d thought we were a few weeks ago, we were farther and farther away.

The realization that Alton had somehow influenced Alexandria and Lennox’s meeting was the final straw. No longer wearing rose-colored Montague glasses, I saw the writing on the wall. Hell, I could read it, even the fine print. Alton believed he’d won.

I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t taken this course of action sooner. Perhaps I wanted to believe in fate. I wanted to believe in the fairytales Alexandria loved as a child. I wanted to believe the promise my mother made—if I did all I could, it would all work out.

The reality wasn’t as pretty. The answer had been at my fingertips all along. A few calls to Dr. Beck’s office, more complaints about my migraines and the medicine arrived. That combined with the last prescription, the one I’d yet to use, gave me plenty of pills.

I’d fought my best fight. Now the finest thing I could do for Alexandria was to die.

The answer was so simple.

My death was one of the few outs for Charles’s will. If I died, the estate automatically reverted to her. Of course, Alton would fight. He’d fight her. But he wouldn’t win. She not only had her grandfather’s will on her side, she had Lennox Demetri. I didn’t know him, but I had faith that if he were anything like his father, he’d help her get what was hers.

Nevertheless, my daughter’s finest weapon wasn’t a piece of paper or a man. I took great pride in seeing that Alexandria’s greatest weapon against Alton and the atrocities of Montague Manor was what she’d always possessed—her own determination.

Spitfire.

I smiled and let my wish go audibly from my lips, “Rain down hell on him, darling.”

With my face washed and wearing my favorite nightgown and robe, I opened both bottles of pills, emptying them into a glass. There were more than I expected. But they were small. For twenty years I’d been an expert swallower. These pills would be nothing.

I started to pour myself a glass of water, when something from my memory came back. If I were going to leave this world, the last liquid to pass my lips would be a glass of Montague Private Collection.

I lifted the phone near the bed and called the kitchen.

“Yes, Mrs. Fitzgerald?”

I suddenly wondered if I’d have to keep that name in the afterlife. I supposed it depended where I landed. Surely, God wouldn’t make me keep it. Satan would think it was proper punishment. “Yes, bring a bottle of Montague cabernet to my suite—1986.”

“A bottle, ma’am?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No, ma’am. One or two glasses?”

Stupid girl. The entire staff knew that Alton was gone, out of town until Labor Day weekend. “One,” I replied, hanging up the receiver and relishing the idea that for once I didn’t give a damn when Alton would be home.

As I waited, I paced the sitting room, uncharacteristically giddy over my future, or lack thereof. I couldn’t remember ever feeling as certain about a decision. The weight of the years disappeared. If I’d known the serenity I’d feel, I would have decided this course years ago. Then again, Alexandria might not have been able to handle it years ago. Perhaps my calm came in believing that now she could.

A knock.

“Mrs. Fitzgerald?”

I wrapped my robe tighter around my waist. The voice wasn’t some faceless maid. It was one I knew, one I recognized. It belonged to Jane. Hearing it brought a slew of emotions I’d successfully buried.

She’d been the best thing to happen to both Alexandria and to me. Years ago, Russell had said that Alexandria wouldn’t miss me as long as she had Jane. My eyes filled with tears as she entered, carrying the wine I’d ordered, and I prayed that Russell was right.

“Mrs. Fitzgerald, are you all right?”

I nodded, pressing my lips together.

“Ma’am, you ain’t usually upset when Mr. Fitzgerald’s gone.”

I shook my head. “Jane, I’m not upset. I’m just… nostalgic.”

“Let me help you,” she volunteered.

Before I could stop her, she opened the door to the bedroom. I followed behind, my heart beating in overtime. Please don’t let her see…

I didn’t get a chance to finish my plea.

Jane picked up the glass from the bedside stand, the lower fourth of which was filled with small white oblong pills.

“Nostalgic?” she asked.