Exquisite Betrayal (32 page)

Leslie sits there and says, “You can’t go in
there.”

I ignore her and push my way into her
office. She’s sitting there with two men and glances up at me. I
don’t give a fuck if the President of the United States is there.
I’m having a nuclear meltdown right now and she’s going to hear
it.

“
How could you? You took the article I
wrote and created something completely different. You put my name
on it and that’s fucking fraudulent, Ruth. And where the fuck did
you get the information?”

My chest is heaving with my breaths, and
clearly, she did not expect me to barge in like this. “Fallon, this
is not the place.”

“
No? Well, what you did wasn’t the
place or time either. We’re having this discussion
now
!”

“
This is highly
unprofessional.”

“
And putting an article that I clearly
did
not
write with my byline
on it, is? That’s not only unprofessional, Ruth, it’s
fucking
illegal
. Rescind
it
now
.”

“
I can’t do that.”

“
Why not?”

“
It’s gone out everywhere.”

“
Then write an article explaining it’s
false information and that I didn’t write it.”

“
But Fallon, you and I both know it’s
not false information, don’t we?”

I want to rip her into tiny pieces and crush
her with my heels. I spin and head towards the door. On my way out,
I yell, “Prepare yourself for the biggest lawsuit of your
life.”

I charge back to my cubby and collect my
things. I stop by Kristie’s office first and ask, “Did you
know?”

She looks down and nods.

“
Why didn’t you tell me?”

“
She threatened to fire me. She’s a
viper. I’m quitting. I’ll testify for you. I’m so sorry, Fallon. I
didn’t think anything like this would come out of it. I thought it
would be little stuff. Like R.T. had a secret boyfriend or was gay
or something, but not this. Never this. If I had known, I would’ve
told you.”

“
How did she do it?”

“
That portfolio she gave you was
bugged. She hired a private investigator.”

“
Fuck. So that’s why I couldn’t find
my iPad that afternoon.”

Kristie nods. “I swear, I’ll help you any
way I can.”

“
It may be too late. Ryland Thomas
will never forgive me. Nor will Tilly and I don’t blame
them.”

I get up and throw on my running clothes.
It’s seven a.m. and I need to get an early jump on my writing
today. I lace up my shoes, put my ear buds in and open my front
door to camera flashes blinding me. There are dozens of reporters
on my front steps as well as my yard, as far as I can see. I slam
the door shut and wonder what the hell is going on.

Running to my computer, I turn it on
and pull up the news. I see all I need to see. Every headline on
every publication has it posted. “
R.T.
Sinclair Identity Revealed by Girlfriend
.” I scan the
article and they’re all the same. The spotlight interview Fallon
did on Tilly was an exposé. She’s revealed all our secrets. But
why? I can’t wrap my brain around it.

Thirty minutes later my phone starts
buzzing. It’s Tilly.

“
What are we going to do?” she
wails.

“
There’s nothing to do. It’s out,
Tills.” I feel dead inside, betrayed by the only one that ever
mattered to me.

“
Why? Why would she do it?”

“
I don’t know.”

“
Has she called?”

“
No.”

“
Did you call her?”

“
Why would I do that? She just fucking
stabbed me to death. So she can pour salt all over me?”

“
Yeah, I guess you’re
right.”

“
I’m calling my lawyer. I’m going to
sue her.”

“
For what?”

“
Slander. Libel. Breaking my bloody
heart. That’s what.”

I hang up and sit on the edge of my bed.
Then I fall back on it and put my arms over my face. I suppose I
should’ve known it was too good to be true. Someone as good and
true as Fallon seemed just doesn’t exist. I’ve been too immersed in
my own damn books for too long. Reality is hard and cold and it’s a
solid steel knife with a jagged, serrated edge that rips you to
pieces without a care in the world. I should’ve remembered that and
left those bloody walls up around me. I wouldn’t be lying here,
eviscerated right now.

I curl up and hug my knees to my chest,
trying to ease the ache that keeps building in my belly. Fuck it
all.

It must’ve been an hour or two later that my
phone starts to ring. Fallon’s name pops up. I don’t answer. What
can she say to me anyway? She keeps calling, over and over. And I
continue to ignore it, over and over. I finally turn my phone off,
hoping it sends a message. At this point, I don’t really give a
fuck.

***

Later that morning, I hear my front door
open and close. I know it’s Tilly. She always has to pick up the
pieces of me and put me back together. Poor girl. She comes in my
room and lies next to me, giving me a hug.

We lie there together before she says,
“We’ll get through this, Ryland Thomas. I promise.”

“
Whatever would I do without you,
Tills?”

“
I don’t know.” She squeezes me. “I
brought some food. I had to buy it ‘cause I know you won’t eat my
cooking.”

“
I don’t think I can eat.”

“
You have to.” She gets up and pulls
on my arm. I allow her to pull me up and then I follow her into my
kitchen. She’s brought me a sandwich from my favorite
deli.

“
You spoil me.”

“
I try. But only because you’d do the
same for me. You remember your Christmas gift to me?” she
asks.

“
The trip to Vietnam?”

“
The same.”

“
What about it?”

“
Let’s go.” I can tell this is
something she really wants.

“
We have the Wicked
Wenches.”

“
Let’s go tomorrow and then come
straight back to that.”

“
I don’t know.” I don’t want to go
anywhere, I only want to curl up and die.

“
No one will know you there. When we
get back, we’ll announce together at the Wicked Wenches the truth
and go forward from there.”

“
Okay. Make our reservations,” I
relent because I know she will hound me until I do.

She claps her hands and I start packing
while she makes our reservations.

***

Tilly loves Vietnam. Well, that’s what she
wants me to believe anyway. She’s just putting on a show for me,
though. I can see it in her sad eyes. They’re filled with all sorts
of sorry for me. We do it up right and she’s fun to be with, yet
the hole in my heart threatens to swallow the rest of me up,
leaving nothing behind. There will never be anyone else in my life.
How can there be after Fallon? She has been everything. Where we’ve
been two hearts, we became one and now I don’t think I can go on
without her. The truth is, I can’t have her, either, because the
betrayal is too deep; so cutting, it severed me in half and I’ll
never be Ryland Thomas again.

Las Vegas is looming over me and I don’t
even want to go. I’m afraid she’ll be there and I won’t know what
to do. How will I handle seeing her? What will I do? I tear my
hands through my hair at the thought of it. Sometimes I wonder if
my life is worth all this bloody shit, but then I think of Tilly
and I know the pain it would cause her. I could never be that
selfish, so I banish those dark thoughts.

The joy of living is gone for me, however.
I’ve been bled dry and I’m like one of those unfeeling zombies
roaming around. Maybe it’s best this way. Less risky. I don’t know
anything anymore.

I simply wish I knew why she did it. If only
she had asked me, I would’ve told her to go ahead with it. Hell, I
couldn’t say no to anything she asked me. She could’ve had the
bloody interview with my blessing. But why? Did I not make her
happy? What was it? These questions are driving me crazy.

I muddle through all this, over and over
until we get home. Then we have to unpack, repack and head to
Vegas. My mind is all jumbled, and when I turn on my phone after we
get back in the states, I’m shocked to see the number of messages
and missed calls from Fallon. My first inclination is to call her,
but what good will it do? It will only rip open the still seeping
wound that I know will never heal.

The media is still camped out, but only with
a few hearty stragglers. They yell at me as I climb into my car,
though I pay them no attention. I pick Tilly up and we drive to the
airport.

As we’re walking towards security, she stops
and turns to me. “You can do this, Ryland Thomas. You’re a fucking
concrete wall.” Then she starts up again. I hope to hell she’s
right because, right now, I’m not so sure.

I’m ruined; annihilated beyond repair. I sit
here and repeatedly punch in Ryland Thomas’s number, but he doesn’t
answer. I’ve gone to his house a dozen times and the media are
camped there, so I just keep on going. One look at me and I
would’ve been mowed down like a damn field of wheat. He’s not
returning any of my texts, either. He’s gone somewhere and I don’t
know where to turn or what to do. Tilly’s not an option, either.
The scathing text I receive from her tells me in no uncertain terms
to stay clear of them both.

Kristie checks on me and I ask her for a
recommendation for an attorney. She gives me a few names and the
first one I call refuses my case. I ask why and all he says is that
it would be a conflict of interest.

“
That leads me to believe that Ryland
Thomas has hired you to sue me. And that’s fine. I want him to sue
me. He should sue me because I was careless in this whole thing.
And please tell him I said all this. But Mr. Carter, I really need
your help. I did not write that interview. My name was on the damn
thing, but they weren’t my words. They were my boss’s boss. She
hired a private investigator to tap my iPad and my discussions with
Ryland Thomas’s sister were recorded. She took the article I wrote
and discarded it. Then she rewrote what she wanted to publish, put
my name on it and ruined three people’s lives. Now she’s traipsing
around San Francisco, happy as shit, because her company broke the
story. But what she really did was break three innocent people. I
want her to pay. I don’t want the money. The money I receive, if
any, can go straight to Ryland Thomas and Tilly because I don’t
give a shit about me.” By the time I finish, I’m shaking and
yelling.

He takes a deep breath into the phone and
lets it out. “Miss McKinley, I’m very sorry for your predicament,
but I still can’t help you. I’d be happy to recommend someone,
though, someone who can do you justice.”

I’m defeated. I know it. I still have to ask
him while I have the chance. “Okay. Mr. Carter, may I ask you
something?”

“
Yes.”

“
Is he okay? Ryland Thomas? Is he
okay?”

“
Um, Miss McKinley, I…”

“
Please, Mr. Carter. I have to know. I
won’t say anything. I promise. Just tell me he’s okay. And that…
and that…” I can’t say anything else because tears have pushed
passed everything I’ve tried to use to prevent them from getting
through.

“
He’s dealing, Miss McKinley. And you
should call Peter Braxton. Tell him I sent you. He’ll serve you
well.”

“
Thanks.”

I cradle the phone in my arms and don’t move
for the rest of the day. The sun moves across the sky and shades my
apartment, however I stay on my side, curled on the sofa, holding
my phone and wishing I could die. Nothing could feel this bad.
Nothing at all.

I’m startled when my phone awakens me. I
don’t bother to check the caller ID; I just answer it.

“
Miss McKinley?”

“
Yes.”

“
Hi, my name is George Patterson. I’m
an attorney in Spartanburg with Patterson, Patterson and Wilkins.
You’re a hard one to track down and if it hadn’t been for all this
media attention, I doubt I would’ve found you.”

“
Um, Mr. Patterson, what’s this
about?”

“
I’m the one that handled your
father’s last will and testament. He set up your trust fund and
when you turned twenty-two, you came into quite a bit of money.
Three and a half million dollars to be exact. However your mother
moved and left no forwarding address for you, and I couldn’t find
you anywhere. All your records were sealed until you turned
twenty-two, and since she left the state, we had no way of finding
you. We were getting ready to hire a private
investigator.”

“
Three and a half million
dollars?”

“
Yes indeed. He had a three million
dollar life insurance policy and then some other money. It’s all in
your name and it diverted to you when you turned
twenty-two.”

I’m silent, trying to digest all of this.
Then a question pops into my head. “Did my mother know about
this?”

“
Yes, and that’s why I was surprised
when she didn’t let us know where you were.”