I spent all of Sunday cursing the myth that was Vitamin C. The full-blown head cold that I was trying to prevent had shown its ghastly face.

Alexander doted on me for most of the day. He called Vivian and asked her to come to the penthouse with a batch of her to-die-for chicken noodle soup. Unfortunately, I could barely taste it, but I still appreciated the gesture. In an attempt to stop Alexander from shoving cough syrup down my throat, I rested under a blanket on the couch and convinced him to have a Star Wars marathon with me. As I listened to Chirrut chant “I am one with the Force, the Force is with me”, I couldn’t help but wish that the power of the Force would be with me so that I could get rid of my cold. There was too much to do, and I couldn’t let a ridiculous head cold slow me down.

Alexander didn’t know about my grand master plan to help him and I was positive that he would not go along with my idea. I struggled with my conscience, but I knew I had to keep him in the dark for the time being.

However, he never strayed far from my side, his presence always just around the corner. While I appreciated the care Alexander and Vivian lavished on me, it ended up being a very frustrating day. Pulling out my laptop to collect the few pieces of information I needed was nearly impossible. My conscience played tug of war every time I snuck a peek at my cell phone under the blanket to gather what I needed. I told myself that it wasn’t lying, but that it was for his protection, despite the fact that my angel had planted herself on my shoulder for most of the day and chastised me.

By the end of the night, I somehow managed to get what I needed. Now here I was, Monday morning, with my guns locked and loaded. Despite the fact that I was miserable from feeling sick, I knew the untimely head cold just might work to my advantage.

I sneezed when the elevator doors opened to the floor that held Turning Stone Advertising, a reminder of how I was going to have to get through the day sniveling into a tissue. Over-the-counter cold suppressants had become a major food group over the past twenty-four hours and I could only hope the meds would kick in soon.

“Good morning, Regina,” I greeted my assistant in a nasally voice. She looked up at me in surprise.

“Morning, Miss Cole. Are you sick?”

“Just a stupid head cold. Nothing major. Is the team ready to meet about the Beaumont project?”

“I just saw Clive head into the main design room. The rest of the team is here as well. The strategy session is scheduled for eight-thirty, so I expect the rest will be in to meet you and Clive shortly.”

“Perfect. Please tell them that I’ll be in there momentarily. I just have a couple of calls to make and then I’ll be in with my files on Beaumont.”

Regina nodded, and I continued on toward my office. When I entered, I quietly closed the door behind me and leaned my head back against it. Closing my eyes, I thought about the phone calls I had to make. Once I set things in motion, there would be no going back.

Can I really do this?

I shook my head, knowing that questioning whether or not I could do it was irrelevant. I had to for Alexander. When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find a mixed bouquet of lilies and blue delphiniums on my desk. I frowned in confusion as I walked over to the desk and pulled the card from the holder.

At first, I smiled. Until a twinge of guilt hit me for not being forthcoming about my plan. The angel’s voice sounded loudly in my head.

Liar!

The voice got louder and louder causing my heart to thud hard in my chest. The self-condemnation grew as I fired up my computer and pulled up Alexander’s schedule for the day. I took note of when he’d be tied up in meetings, knowing that he wouldn’t be looking for me during those times. Removing my cell phone from my purse, I located the phone number that I was able to obtain in an email correspondence from a few weeks back.

Guilt-ridden angst caused me to shake as I began to dial the private cell phone number for Thomas Green, the Manhattan District Attorney who was heading up Charlie’s trial.

“DA Green here.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and summoned the most confident voice I could muster.

“Hello, Mr. Green. This is Krystina Cole.”

“Hello, Miss Cole. What can I do for you today?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could come in to see you today.”

“Today? Is everything alright?” he asked, seeming confused.

Everything wasn’t alright, but the most important thing in that moment was setting up a face to face meeting. I did not want to do this over the phone. Facial expressions and body language told too much of a story.

“I need to talk to you about my testimony.”

“Okay,” he paused, sounding even more perplexed. “I don’t know what else there is for us to go over, but I’d be happy to meet with you and Mr. Stone – .”

“No!” I nearly shouted, forgetting my composure. “Not Alex. Just me please. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention our meeting to him.”

“Well, I ah…” he hesitated. I huffed out a breath of frustration over my own stupidity. I should’ve predicted that he’d want Alexander to be present. I would have to say something more to convince him.

“Look, Mr. Green. Something has just come to my attention that could affect my testimony. I’m going to have to pull the client attorney privilege on this one.”

“With all due respect, Miss Cole. You’re a witness, not my client. I work for the city, so that rule doesn’t really apply here.”

Shit! Think, Cole. Think!

I scrambled to try to come up with a way to persuade him to my way of thinking. I didn’t want to show my hand just yet, but I was desperate.

“I see,” I began evenly. “While that may be true, you need me for this case. Am I correct?”

“Yes…” he trailed off cautiously.

“You don’t have a solid case without me. If you want my testimony, I must insist that this meeting stay between just the two of us.”

There was a long pause and I could only assume he was weighing his options.

“I understand. Let me just pull up my schedule.” While his words were agreeable, his voice sounded terse, like he was annoyed with the situation. The last thing I needed was for him to be uncooperative. Trying to sound as sincere as possible, I acknowledged his efforts to meet with me.

“I understand this is sudden. Thank you for agreeing to meet, Mr. Green.”

I heard the shuffling of papers for a moment before he spoke again.

“I’m due in court in thirty minutes, but I should be free by noon. I can see you at twelve-thirty today if that works for you. My office?”

“Yes, your office is fine. I’ll be there then.”

After I hung up, I took a deep and calming breath. Then I tried counting to ten, but it didn’t seem to help. My nerves were still jumping as I looked up the second phone number I needed to dial. This call was even more nerve wracking than the last, as I was still apprehensive about whether or not I could follow through with my plan.

“The City Times. How can I direct your call?” asked the female phone operator.

“Yes, hello. I’m looking for a Mr. Mac Owens.”

“Mr. Owens is off site today. Can I direct you to somebody else, or would you like me to put you through to his voicemail?”

“Oh, um…voicemail would be fine. Thank you.”

After she patched me through, I waited on the line until a gruff male voice could be heard, telling me to leave a message.

“Mr. Owens, my…” I hesitated before continuing, and then swiftly decided to not leave my name. I would leave a bit of detail on what my call was about instead. “I’m interested in talking with you about a story. It has to do with Charlie Andrews. If you could please give me a call back at your earliest convenience, I would appreciate it.”

I rattled off my phone number and quickly hit the end button. My heart was racing and the ball of nerves in my gut felt heavier than a wrecking ball. It worsened as I pulled up my calendar, the same calendar Alexander referenced to obtain my schedule, and began typing in a fictitious doctor appointment for twelve-thirty.

It’s better this way.

Nonetheless, guilt weighed heavily in my chest as I gathered the Beaumont files. Grabbing a box of tissues on the way out, I tried to force the pangs of my conscience aside and made my way to the design room to meet my team.

Clive, my lead marketing coordinator for Turning Stone, already had design drafts and mockups displayed on the flat screens when I entered. He was writing notes on the white board and looked up upon my arrival. He raised his eyebrows when he saw me.

“No offense, Miss Cole, but you look terrible.”

“Thanks,” I stated dryly.

“I know this planning session is important, but do you want to reschedule?”

I looked around the room at the other eight people assembled and ready to go. A part of me did want to reschedule, but it wasn’t because I was sick. It was because I felt too anxious to concentrate on the job at hand.

“No, I’ll be fine. I want to be well prepared for Friday’s meeting with Sheldon Tremaine. Beaumont jewelers is too big of a contract to risk. Let’s do this.”

* * *

I stood in the doorway of my office and shook the hand of Sheldon Tremaine. He was just leaving after a very productive meeting. Ironically, while Krystina was discussing the advertising strategy for his business with her team, he had been meeting with me.

I had asked Sheldon to come to my office to discuss his business appointment with Krystina later in the week. I also wanted to discuss commissioning Beaumont Jewelers to create a piece of jewelry that I would give to Krystina as a wedding gift. His work was impeccable, as was proven with the triskelion necklace he had made for her, but the commission also gave me leverage. I used it to solidify the promise that he’d commit to advertising with Turning Stone.

“I’ll get a design drawn up for you and send it over, but I think I know exactly what you’re looking for,” Sheldon assured.

“I’ll look forward to it. It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Likewise, Mr. Stone.”

After Sheldon left, I went back to my desk and pulled up my calendar – my real calendar.

Setting up the meeting with Sheldon had been tricky. I couldn’t type his name in my calendar or I’d risk suspicion from Krystina if she happened to look at my schedule for the day. Instead, I blocked the time out as being in a meeting with George Canterwell, knowing full well that Krystina wouldn’t disturb me if she knew I was meeting with the old miser. Laura, on the other hand, was completely thrown off when Sheldon Tremaine showed up. She had merely tossed me a strange look, but didn’t ask questions. She knew better.

I glanced at the clock. Stephen and Bryan were due in my office in less than fifteen minutes. The architect would be here at three to meet with both Krystina and me about the house in Westchester. I absently wondered if she remembered to clear her schedule. Moving the mouse, I clicked over to her schedule. I stopped short as I went over her appointments for the day.

Doctor?

I hadn’t realized she scheduled one. Instinctively, I picked up the phone to call her Primary, but then stopped myself.

Give her room to breathe.

Fighting my gut instinct was a challenge, but I replaced the receiver nonetheless. Krystina had a head cold. I told myself that it was natural for her to schedule a visit to the doctor. I also knew she had Samuel with her. She would be fine.

I looked up when I heard a knock on my office door. Stephen poked his head in.

“Come on in,” I told him. “Where’s Bryan?”

“He’s just down the hall, chatting it up with some new intern. He’ll be here in a minute I’m sure.”

“Christ! He knows the rules. Go tell him to put his dick back in his pants and get in here.”

Stephen smirked.

“Sure. The rules. Go ahead and tell him that yourself. I’m pretty sure he’ll remind you of how your relationship with Krystina started.”

I scowled at him.

“That’s not the point.”

“Ah, come on. Cut the poor guy some slack. He’s always so serious and buried in numbers all day. Let him get his kicks when he can.”

“Last I checked, Bryan didn’t have any issue finding his kicks,” I stated dryly.

My statement wasn’t meant to be funny, but Stephen found it hilarious for some reason. I pursed my lips in annoyance. He was still laughing when Bryan finally decided to saunter in.

“What’s so funny?” Bryan asked.

“Your dick,” Stephen announced.

“Huh?” Bryan asked and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, your dick. It’s not allowed in the interns,” I reminded him. My statement caused Stephen to laugh even harder.

“Shit! Did you just make a joke, Alex?”

I rolled my eyes at him.

Always the jokester.

Bryan, as if sensing my irritation, sat down in the chair next to Stephen and held up his hands in surrender.

“Sorry, Alex. I’ll keep it to myself.”

“You’d better,” I warned. “She’s probably too young for you anyway.”

“Well, Krystina is a lot younger than –.”

Stephen howled with laughter again, his face turning ten shades of red.

“I tried to warn you, Alex,” he said when he caught his breath. I shook my head, but couldn’t help but to crack a smile.

However, my smile was short lived, as I had important matters to discuss. I was about to lay a bombshell on my accountant and lawyer. Because they were also friends of mine, I knew they’d be more than a little shocked over what I had to tell them. My only defense was that I had met them in college, and well after I changed my name to Stone. I would explain it to them like I had explained it to Krystina, and say Alexander Russo no longer existed. I could only hope that they didn’t feel betrayed like she had.

“Alright, recess is over you two. I have something important to tell you both. It isn’t good. Stephen, depending on how things shake out, I’ll more than likely need you and your legal team,” I told them.

My overly serious tone caused Stephen to sober immediately. Both of them looked at me curiously. A ball of dread formed in my gut. In a few minutes, I would show them The City Times interview given by Charlie Andrews. Once I did that, even more people would know about my past. After all these years of keeping it hidden, it only took one conniving weasel to blow it all up.

“What’s going on, Alex?” Bryan asked.

“Bryan, as my accountant, I’ll need your input on protecting my assets. Again, depending on what happens, I don’t know the financial ramifications.”

“What the fuck, Alex! Spit it out. What’s wrong?” Stephen demanded.

“Charlie Andrews.”