He didn’t blink, didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
TWENTY-TWO
LAMBERT
Serena hadn’t slept in the same room with me for months, unfairly blaming me for Jillian’s death. Had she forgotten I’d lost a daughter too? My frustration with my wife was at an all-time high, and a big part of that was because I couldn’t do anything about it.
I’d taken Barlowe from a struggling, marginally profitable company to a multi-billion-dollar empire. We were a household name, the gold-standard for several drug lines. But no matter how much money I made, or new drugs the company developed and secured FDA approval for under my leadership, I’d never be able to leave her.
Not without fear the Barlowe family would cut me off.
I couldn’t cement myself as a Cape Hill elite until my network was a spiderweb. I wanted the security that I wouldn’t unravel if one strand was clipped.
So, I stood outside the door to the guest bedroom Serena had claimed as hers, drank my whiskey, and stewed in my irritation. It shouldn’t bother me. We didn’t love each other anymore, but we’d stayed partners. Yes, we’d both had multiple affairs over the years, but there was something so disrespectful about how she shut me out. I was good enough to share a child with, but not the grief over losing one.
I was halfway to my empty bedroom when my phone vibrated with a text message.
Unknown: I know who you are, Michael Slattery.
It stopped me in my tracks. That name hadn’t been uttered in thirty-five years . . . not until last week. Did David’s daughter think she could blackmail me after I’d already paid her fifteen million? Christ, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Greedy little bitch. She was going to regret—
My phone rang, the call coming from the same unknown number, and I smashed my finger on the screen to accept it.
“Listen up,” I spat out, “because I’m only going to say this once—”
“Hello, Dad.”
All the anger in me flipped onto its side, turning into suspicion. This was a trick. A voice actor or a computer application that sounded exactly like her because it couldn’t be Jillian. My little girl was dead. I’d accepted that awful truth, unlike Tiffany and Serena.
“I’m calling to tell you,” the eerie, familiar voice continued, “I’ve done what you said I never could. I started over with nothing and am building a new life. Just like you did—only better because I’m not doing it at the expense of others.”
“You’re not her,” I snapped.
“You want me to prove it?”
Her tone and inflection were well done. Pitch-perfect Jillian, and a tentacle of worry, mixed with hope, wrapped around me, dragging me down. I could picture her clever eyes and cunning smile on the other end of the line.
“When I was twelve, you and Mom had a big argument about whether or not I needed to wear a life-preserver whenever I went sailing with you. You were on my side and finally convinced her to let me make the choice.”
My heart stopped. There was no power in my voice. “Jillian?”
“I think about that a lot. It might have been the last time I was allowed to make a decision in my life.”
She was alive.
I turned, hurrying down the hall to tell Serena. “Where are you? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. A lot better than you’re going to be soon.”
My hand froze on the doorknob. “What are you talking about? Tell me where you are, and I’ll send someone to get you.” I frowned. This was too important to trust to anyone else. I needed to see her with my own eyes. “I’ll come get you.”
“No, it’s too late for that. I’m not telling you where I am, and you have much bigger things to worry about. I found some Barlowe paperwork at the house before I left, and you should be aware I turned it over to the FBI this afternoon.”
I let go of the doorknob like it had burned me and backed away from the door. “You did not.”
“Oh, I did. I imagine they’re working on getting a warrant to raid the house right now. It’s why I’m calling. You need to make sure Tiffany isn’t home when it happens. Mom probably knows what you’ve done, but don’t traumatize my sister.”
“Stop it.” I used anger to mask my fear. “I’m sure whatever you think you found, the FBI isn’t going to be interested in it.”
“I saw the prenup, Dad. Even after I told you not to because I was never going to marry Ansel, you had the lawyers draft it, and then he fucking signed it. Ask yourself what else I might have seen in your safe.”
Fuck.
If what she was telling me was true, I was in deep, deep shit. I couldn’t catch my breath, and the room began to sway. I’d never had so many emotions overwhelm me at once.