chapter 4
Scarlett
DARREN HAD A MISTRESS. He knew her longer than he knew me. They were together longer than we were. Does that make me the mistress? Why did he marry me instead of her? Was he with her the whole time? Did he treat her better than he treated me? Or was he an asshole to the both of us?
How many ways can a man mistreat a woman?
I don’t have any feelings for Darren, at least not any good ones, but these thoughts still run through my head. He was away a lot, of course, on work and such, and those times were good for me because I was left alone. I never thought he was living a double life, having two homes to go to, and two women to sleep with and make their lives miserable. The sad thing is he most likely financed this other life with my funds. Darren never came from money, and living on a modest cop wage there’s no way he could support another household without the money I brought into our marriage. My father was a very wealthy man, and when he passed away he left me with cash, property, and his construction business, Reyes Industries, which I sold shortly after his death. I met Darren when he was just starting at the Police Academy. I worked in the college library on the weekends, and he came in one day and introduced himself.
“Hello,” he says, and hands me a book that had fallen down from the shelf. I’m on the ladder, reaching up to put away some books.
“Hello,” I reply with reserve, then return to my stacking.
“Can I help you with those?” he asks me.
“Pretty sure that’s my job,” I tell him, narrowing my gaze on him. “What do you want?”
“Nothing,” he says, but then he grins. “Except maybe your number.”
I consider it, but then reply with a no.
So every weekend after that he’d come in to see me. He’d chat me up, help me carry books, and sometimes he’d bring me little gifts, like flowers or cupcakes. This went on for three months before I finally gave him my number.
And a few more months after that I fell in love with him.
He wasn’t always bad. The first few years were actually pretty good—he was charming back then. Too charming, clearly. He was obviously a master manipulator and a narcissist. I fell for it, and so did this poor other woman. Or maybe she was the lucky one, and he treated her well. I find myself hoping so, because I wouldn’t wish what I’d been through on anyone. The emotional abuse was almost worse than the physical. He would be nice to me one moment, then so cruel the next. He’d be loving and caring and then he’d come home and push me around. Sometimes he’d go days without talking to me if I did something he didn’t like. He’d tell me I was worthless and that no other man would ever want me. He did everything he could to put me down. Toward the end, he got more physical with me, but never enough to draw attention. A shove here, a push there, a smack across the face when I talked back to him. Nothing to ever leave a mark. He knew better.
I wasted years on the man—years. I don’t know why I stayed as long as I did. I think, for a while, I actually started to believe the horrible things he said to me. I became a shell of a woman, alienating all my friends. And I finally got away, leaving the country for two years, staying with my aunt and escaping his torment. It was during those two years that I finally felt a little bit like my old self. Only to return and be pinned with his death. The bastard couldn’t even stay alive so I’d be left in peace. The cards I’ve been dealt haven’t been fair, but I’m still standing. I’m still here, and I’m still fighting.
I won’t stop fighting.
My mind roams to Jaxon.
I know there are some things I need to tell him about Darren, but I don’t want to. I mean, I tried, but I don’t think I was direct enough. I’m embarrassed, and I don’t want to see the pity in his eyes, or anyone’s eyes for that matter. However, I know if I don’t tell him, it’ll be that much harder to win this case.
My freedom should trump my pride.
Then how come my lips couldn’t move?
Next time. I’ll tell him next time.
I may have thought about a hundred different ways to kill Darren, but I didn’t do it. Some other lucky bastard had that pleasure. And as grateful as I am that he’s gone, I’m not going to take the fall for it.
I don’t know how I’ve managed to get into this situation. I just wanted a fresh start, to be free, and away from Darren, but now it looks like there’s a chance my life is going to be even worse than before. I didn’t think that was even possible. I don’t deserve this. I know there’s no point feeling sorry for myself; I need to fight. I’m lucky enough to be able to afford a good lawyer, and now I just need to prove that I’m innocent.
Even if I have to do it my damn self.
I’m putting my faith—my life—in the hands of a man I just met, in a lawyer. They don’t have the greatest reputation for being the best kind of people, but I hope I can trust this man.
He seems like the type who wouldn’t want to lose, so maybe he says what he means?
I really hope so. I turn on some music to clean my house to, and even start to dance to the song a little. I’m out on bail for now, but it won’t be long until my fate is decided and I might not be able to do simple things like this. I need to enjoy life as much as I can, while I can. There are so many things I’d like to do that I never got the chance to. I turn the music louder and sway my hips from side to side. I’m not the best dancer, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to do it. Actually, it was Darren who told me I wasn’t very good at it, made me believe it, but he’s not here anymore, and his words no longer hold any power.
Maybe I’ll find someone one day who will dance with me in my kitchen, who will taste my cooking without complaint. Someone who will tell me that I’m beautiful, instead of pointing out all of my flaws, and laugh with me when I make a mistake instead of yelling.
Laugh with me, not at me.
After finishing cleaning, I decide to do a little research of my own. I go through Darren’s filing cabinet, the one he kept all his important documents in, and look for anything that could potentially help my case. The police searched the house but surprisingly left his files alone, so when I put that house up for sale and moved into a new one I brought them with me. I’d had a feeling once they found my Glock they’d stopped searching. I pull everything out, then glance over it all to see each paper’s relevance so I don’t miss anything. I’m halfway through when I find something that has my blood boiling. I now know why Darren married me instead of this Valentina girl. I feel like an idiot. It should have been obvious.
My money.
Darren was always interested in the properties my dad left me when he passed, and took them under his control. He told me that he didn’t want me to have to worry about handling everything and he knew people who could help him renovate so we could eventually sell them for more money. I never questioned it. Darren was a very practical man, and he seemed to know about these kinds of things, while I was happy to work in the bookstore and look after the household. I was content with my simple life. He said the properties were all rented out to tenants, but I haven’t even thought about what has been happening to those properties or what might happen now? .I suppose I should take care of that. I’ve always wanted to donate a property to a charity, so maybe I should organize that before anything starts with the trial. I feel stupid. And angry. How did I let it go so far that a man controlled what belonged to me? I’ve never been very materialistic. All I cared about was being happy; I was a hopeless romantic back then. An optimist. Old me would look at who I am now and cringe.
Maybe one day I can go back to who I was when I lived in Europe. Maybe that will be my goal. After this is all over I’ll head back overseas and live a quiet, peaceful life, away from everything. A fresh start. Just like I’d always wanted. There’s such a hurdle to overcome before I get there though. I have to prove that I’m worthy of freedom, that I didn’t do this crime against a man who I tried to make happy but failed.
After putting all the files back, I decide to go see my properties. There’s no time like the present, and I don’t really have anything else to do for the rest of the day. I grab my sunglasses and wide-brim hat, along with the paperwork, and jump in my car.
Some sun and fresh air is just what I need.
AFTER HEADING TO THE bank first, only to find my joint account with Darren frozen, I thank God I was smart enough to reroute all the money that comes from the properties into my personal account shortly after I left to be with Aunt Leona. After taking out the initial $30,000 before I left, I forgot about everything. I didn’t use the joint account out of fear Darren would find me. Because I alienated all my friends during my marriage, I didn’t have anyone here to check in with. Hell, I didn’t even know Darren was missing! When I left, I left and never looked back.
I’m going to empty the joint account when I gain access to it, not that he’s going to need it from beyond the grave. I’m not going to need any of that money either, but some lucky charities will definitely benefit from it. I’ll send my aunt some of it too.
Knowing I probably can’t just show up and look around without raising suspicion or alarming the tenants, I decide to simply drive past the different properties to see how they look and maybe plan what to do with them. By these records, there are four.
The first one is familiar to me: it’s my childhood home. I want to give this house to any children I’ll ever have, even though I’m not sure if that will ever happen. Still, it’s sentimental to me, I have nothing but good memories here, of me as a child, playing hide-and-seek with my father and riding my own pony, Belle. I had a wonderful childhood. I wanted for nothing and was treated like a princess. I will never sell this house, ever. When a little girl comes running outside with a smile on her face, it makes me smile too. At least more happy memories are being made here.
The second property is a little outside the city, but I enjoy the drive. When I arrive there though, I can tell something isn’t right. The entire place is fenced off, and there are several cars parked out front.
And dogs.
They have pit bulls and rottweilers out front, as if guarding the property. Not sure what else to do, I leave, but send Jaxon a quick text asking him what I can do about it. The other two houses are fine—residential properties with tenants. After viewing them all, I stop at a diner on the way home to grab some food.
“Aren’t you a pretty thing,” a man says to me, smiling as he gives me a once-over with his dark eyes. He has those holes in each ear, the ones that you use to stretch out your ears on purpose. Ear gauges, I think they’re called, but I’m not sure. I don’t usually like them, but they look good on him.
I try to force a smile, but I’m afraid it comes out as more of a grimace. I take a step back and cross my arms over my chest, trying to shrink into myself. I don’t like attention, and I don’t dress to get any. I’m wearing black jeans and a loose black top that covers my bottom. Even my jeans aren’t overly fitted, just enough that they don’t hang off me.
“Leave her alone, Preston,” another man says, eyeing me. He has green eyes and longish black hair that’s tied at his nape. He’s a handsome man, but it’s his friendly eyes that comfort me. He grabs Preston by the T-shirt and pulls him back. “Ignore him, sweetheart, he won’t come near you.”
I almost feel like apologizing. Why can’t I be normal? Accept a compliment, and know how to handle situations like this without shrinking into myself. I glance down at my feet.
I need to be stronger.
Lifting my head, I look the man in the eye and say, “Thank you. For the compliment. Even though I don’t exactly appreciate being called a thing. I assume you meant it in a kind way.”
“He did,” the green-eyed man says, grinning.
“I did,” Preston says at the same time. “Maybe you should give me your number so I can clear that up for you a little.” He pauses. “On a date, or something.”
Green Eyes throws his head back and laughs. “When have you ever taken a woman on a date?”
“I take women on dates all the fuckin’ time, Parker. You follow me around and know my every move?”
“You know how women talk,” Parker replies, amusement written all over his face. “I would’ve heard about it.”
“Well, maybe she’s beautiful enough that I want to take her on a date,” Preston announces, squaring his shoulders and looking back to me. “So what do you think, miss? Can I take you on a date?”
“Oh,” I say, nervously shifting on my feet. I shouldn’t have said anything . . . why did I open my mouth? Oh, right, the whole strength thing. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I appreciate the offer though.”
“Rejected,” Parker calls out, chuckling. “Harsh, dude, harsh.”
I flash him a look, silently asking him to stop being so mean, and then turn back to Preston. “Not that there’s anything wrong with you . . . you are lovely . . . but, well . . . I’m kind of out on bail and could end up in prison soon, so dating probably isn’t the best idea.”
“Did she say prison?” I hear Preston ask Parker. “And did she just call me lovely?”
“Yeah,” he says, sounding shocked.
It’s this moment that the news comes on the TV in the corner of the diner and broadcasts a preview for tonight, featuring my case. They both glance at the screen, and then look at me, eyes wide.
I shrug, in an I told you so kind of way. I don’t know what else to do—it’s embarrassing, but it’s my life right now. There’s no point trying to deny it. I’m innocent, and I know the truth. I can’t change what people think about me, but I know the truth.
I know my heart. I know I’m good. If they can’t see that, then there’s nothing else I can do, let them judge. When it’s proved I’m innocent, let them all know they were wrong.
The waitress calls out my ticket number, so I step to the counter and grab the bag. “Nice meeting you both,” I say as I turn to exit.
“It’s always the ones you least suspect,” Preston says, waving ’bye to me, his expression one of shock and confusion. “Is it bad that the prison thing only makes me want her more?” are the last words I hear.
I smile on my way to the car.
If I can’t find humor in the situation, I have nothing.
It’s smile, or cry.