Marc and I were married. Nothing could change that. All we needed to do was figure out what Arthur had done, and find proof of the setup. Marc couldn’t do that from his position.
I could from mine.
“Okay. Fine. You win,” I said.
“What made you think I wouldn’t?” he asked me. “You’re my daughter. My property. You seem to forget that.”
I had no answer. George pulled the car up, and Arthur and I got inside.
“Your nephew has been arrested, George. I hate to be blunt about it, but he stole from me. Given the amount, I was left with no choice but to alert the Feds.”
“He’s lying, George. He’s a liar.”
“Shut your mouth,” Arthur hissed. “You will be respectful.”
I had nothing left to say, and George said nothing, either. He simply drove us away from the airport, to the estate. I wanted to follow George to the carriage house, to tell him everything. Only I knew it was impossible. We shared a look in the rearview mirror. I hope it conveyed that I would do everything I could do, to undo what Arthur had done.
Then, reluctantly, I walked inside my grand home, the mansion I’d left only days ago with such a feeling of hope.
Now, there was only fear.
I did this. I did this to Marc by thinking he could save me from this future, that, apparently, had always been my fate.
Starting up the stairs, looking for the escape of my bedroom, I wasn’t quick enough before Arthur called to me.
“Not yet, Ashleigh. We need to discuss your behavior first.”
I nodded, moved toward the living room, and sat in one of the chairs. Meanwhile, Arthur made his way to the wet bar and poured himself a drink.
“Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to avoid informing Evan of this mishap. He’s upset, as you can imagine, but he’s willing to overlook a bit of rebellion.”
“Marc and I got married,” I announced boldly. “We went to Vegas, and now we’re married, so Evan is officially out of luck.”
This time, unlike the first time he did it, I expected the backhand across my face. My body absorbed it and I didn’t fall off my chair. I also didn’t hold up my hand to cover my cheek where it throbbed with pain.
“You little shit, do you know what Evan might do? To both of us?”
“He’s not going to marry me. That’s one thing I know he’s not going to do.”
Arthur barked out a harsh laugh. “If you think something as insignificant as a marriage certificate is going to stop Evan from taking what he wants, you’re wrong.”
It hurt to talk. To open my mouth and move my cheek. Still, I had to ask. “Why us? Why you and me? Why bother with us at all?”
“Control. He has it over me. He thought he had it over you. We need to re-establish that he does, or we’ll be expendable to him.”
I sucked in my breath. “You make it sound like he might kill us. Is that who you sold me to? A murderer?”
Arthur said nothing, just took a deep swallow of his drink.
“May I be excused?”
I could do this. I could play this game of politeness, if it meant re-establishing trust with Arthur enough to discover his secrets. Secrets that involved a missing twenty million dollars.
“You may. However, you’ll notice I’ve made some changes in your absence. The lock on your door is now on the outside. I’ll control when you come and go. You understand?”
Of course, I understood. Marc and I were both going to prison. Mine was just significantly more comfortable.
14
Metropolitan Correctional Center
Marc
“I’m Evan—”
“I know who you are.” I cut off the man sitting on the opposite side of the glass partition. I’d been expecting my lawyer. When I said lawyer, I meant a friend of mine from Princeton, who I knew had just passed the bar exam. I didn’t know if John was a good lawyer or a bad lawyer, but he was a lawyer and all I could afford.
George had come to tell me they’d locked Ash in her room. She wasn’t coming with bail money, and George had no way to put that kind of cash together. I was stuck in MCC for the foreseeable future, until John figured out what kind of case the prosecutors had.
I obviously hadn’t stolen twenty million dollars, so there was no way to prove I had. That, and thoughts of Ash got me through each hour.
Until today, when this unexpected visitor showed up.
I’d seen enough pictures of Evan Sanderson in magazines, most of them with Ash on his arm, to know who he was. Slick, handsome, he oozed a vibe of money and something else.
Something sinister. This was not a guy I would ever have a beer with.
“You’re not on my approved visitor list,” I told him.
He smiled. “I have connections.”
“Obviously,” I said. “Given that I’m in jail.”
“Word on the street is you skimmed twenty million dollars from Landen’s hedge fund. Needless to say, his investors are not happy.”
“Don’t waste my time, Evan. Why are you here?” I asked him.
He tugged on the shirt cuffs under his suit coat. No casual jeans for this guy when visiting someone in jail. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, I’m engaged to Ashleigh Landen. She’s going to be my wife.”
“Not anymore,” I told him, smugly. Because, at the very least, that had happened. I’d married her. She was my wife, and there was some safety from him in that.
I was going to find someone who believed my story and get out of this nightmare, then we would go on with our fucking lives. That was going to happen. I had to believe that was going to happen or I would go insane.
“Yes, I understand there was a wedding while you two were off in Vegas. You’re going to tell me where you two got married, and I’m going to make the whole thing disappear.”
“Doesn’t matter where we were married. The license would have already been filed with the county clerk’s office.”
“Not necessarily.” Evan smiled. “They have up to ten days to file, and you were married less than a week ago. I’ve got people in Vegas now who can intercept that transfer, and, voila, it never happened.”
Who the fuck said voila?
“I have a copy of the license,” I said. It was true. I’d packed it in my suitcase I’d checked for our flight back. Best guess, it was now sitting in the unclaimed luggage section of American Airlines. Had Ash thought to pick up our bags? She’d been so distraught when it all went down, that was unlikely.
“Your copy means nothing. And I’m told most chapels do wait the ten days to send over the signed licenses just to make sure the couple doesn’t return with regrets. So, you’re going to tell me where you were married. Obviously, I’ll also need to check for any video that might have been taken.”
I leaned forward, the hard metal chair scraping on the floor as I pressed myself as close as I could to the glass.
“What makes you think I would tell you anything? You’ve lost, Evan. Find another beard wife you can control. Shouldn’t be too hard for a guy like you. There are plenty of women out there who will like your money well enough.”