Chapter Eighteen
Megan
I tried to move on, tried to shove my emotions down, pretend it didn’t matter, but I couldn’t quite manage it. The tension at home between my mother and I was palpable, unfortunate, and more than sad. But my stubborn pride kept me from… I wasn’t sure how I felt. While she had been right about Scott, I still didn’t believe that she had any right, not any right at all, to contact Kristin behind my back. Especially after I had told her what a bitch Kristin could be, not just out of any feelings on my part as a jealous person, but because of the way she treated people—and Scott. It wasn’t just me, either, but the way she treated staff at Scott’s house, the caterers, florists, and wedding planners that we had both come into contact with before I had been abruptly fired.
Kristin wasn’t a nice person. Period. Although I supposed she must have some redeeming qualities. Didn’t everyone? If she did, she kept them well hidden. And Scott. I couldn’t believe that he had chosen to live a lie with Kristin, who I knew he didn’t love, rather than break away from her and live an open, honest, and genuine life. With me. I couldn’t believe it.
Could I blame him for choosing money over me? It wasn’t quite that simple, and I knew it. I had struggled paycheck to paycheck since my father died. So had Mom. But was it really so bad? We’d never been homeless, never gone hungry. Sure, we cut corners sometimes, and there were times when we ate spaghetti three or four nights in a row, but it could’ve been a lot worse. Did we worry constantly about paying the bills? Of course. But at the same time, we’d always had each other. Our love and support had carried each of us through some pretty hard times, and until recently, I had taken comfort in that.
I had taken comfort in the fact that as long as I was loved and I had the capability of loving, that my mom and I could get through anything. Hadn’t we already been through the worst? And yet…
And yet.
In spite of the fact that I had been fired, physically accosted by a pregnant woman no less, and called abhorrent names by said pregnant woman, I didn’t look at the experience as a total loss. In just a short time I had gained so much; in that short amount of time that I worked with Kristin and the Holbrook Corporation, I had been reconnected to someone who meant more to me than anyone else in the world, besides my mother, of course. I had experienced a resurgence of affection and love for Scott, and no matter how badly it turned out, I didn’t regret it. Did I miss working for Kristin? Hell no. But did I miss Scott? I did.
During those brief interludes we’d had, however, I recalled the strain of keeping our knowledge of each other hidden, everything kept hush-hush, nobody could know. Regardless of how I felt about him, I knew I couldn’t live like that. Yes, we had agreed that somehow, we could make it work, but I thought I was merely fooling myself and ignoring the inevitable. I couldn’t have become his mistress. And I couldn’t have accepted him stepping behind Kristin’s back to see me.
I knew there was some reason that we had reconnected, that we had found each other after all these years, that we discovered that our feelings for each other were not merely childhood crushes. So even though I knew I couldn’t be with him, that he had made his choice again, the way he was going about it felt so very wrong. His father was literally blackmailing him, and Scott was accepting it. That made me incredibly angry, not just for myself, but for Scott.
He deserved better than that, dammit!
What if—
“I’m leaving for work, Megan!”
I abruptly rose from the chair in my room by the window, where I had been attempting to read a food magazine, when I heard my mom’s voice coming down the hallway. I knew that I needed to talk to her. We needed to somehow find a way to mend this rift that had opened between us. I needed her to know that while I didn’t approve of her methods, I did understand her concern for me. I didn’t want this silence, this awkward tiptoeing around each other to grow worse. We were all we had for each other. We had to support each other. We both had to work together and contribute toward our expenses.
I rushed to my bedroom door and opened it. “Mom—”
I heard the front door shut firmly. By the time I got to the living room and looked out the window, I saw her climbing into the car, quickly starting it, and backing out. I stared at it until her car disappeared down the street, disappointment and sadness once again blooming in my heart. Wasn’t it enough that I had lost Scott? I couldn’t even talk about this loss to Mom because she hadn’t approved of it in the first place. Plus, there was my annoyance with her for even considering talking to Kristin. Lots of confused feelings and emotions.
I sighed, turned, and looked around the apartment. Was our life really so bad? Our furniture had mainly been picked up piece by piece from secondhand stores, but the TV was new. It was a comfortable apartment and our work schedules prevented us from spending too many hours every day with each other, but we made do. Did I want more? Of course. I still had a good portion of the payment that Scott had given me, and with that, I probably might… possibly, though a slim chance… be able to get a small business loan to open up a bistro. But if I used it, that would pretty much leave our bank account empty again, and I rather liked having a cushion there, just in case of an emergency.
Shit. I would just have to keep working, finding odd jobs, trying to tuck a little money here and there into the bank. Someday, I knew that I would achieve my goals. Sure, I could achieve them so much faster if I had managed to complete my term of employment with Kristin, but there was no use crying over spilt milk. Water under the bridge. How many trite and clichéd phrases could I come up with to…
Worthless waste of energy. But one thing I realized as I stood there, staring around at the not so ritzy but comfortable and secure life that my mom and I had built together, was that an injustice has been done. I suppose I deserved Kristin’s wrath. I had slept with her fiancé. That was on me, and I would deal with my own sense of regret for allowing it to happen.
But what stuck in my craw, really stuck in my craw, was the way Scott’s father was treating his son. Mike Holbrook, whether indirectly or directly, had destroyed my life once. I had survived that. But I’d be damned if I could ignore the fact that he was destroying his son’s life. The injustice… I might not have any right to intercede on Scott’s behalf, and he probably didn’t want me to. But I had to do something, didn’t I? At the very least, I could confront the bastard about my father’s death. And then I suddenly realized that my mom had acted much the same for my sake. She had taken drastic measures to make sure that I didn’t step over the line, didn’t accept a life that was unjust, or that would relegate me eventually to nothing but misery. Not to mention the fact that I had even considered becoming ‘the other woman’.
That’s what love and devotion really was about, wasn’t it? That moment I knew what I needed to do. Scott might not appreciate it any more than I had appreciated my mother butting in, but he didn’t have to know, did he? A plan began to form in my head. My instincts were that the baby Kristin was carrying wasn’t Scott’s, but of course I didn’t have any proof of that. I appreciated that Scott was holding off on a paternity test until the baby was born, but by then it would be too late. Would he go through with the marriage only to divorce a short time later if the child proved not to be his? I didn’t think so, because I knew, that deep down, Scott was afraid of turning into his father. He was trying to do the right thing by the child. But if that child ultimately was determined not to be his, Scott shouldn’t have to share custody, or support, or anything else. That was the baby’s father’s job.
I knew that Kristin would refuse to see me, and she certainly would never admit that the baby wasn’t Scott’s, but I knew someone who would and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I also knew what I had to do. I needed to get a confession from the man himself. Mike Holbrook. The man who had destroyed my family and my life, and was in the process of doing the same with Scott. He might feel he was doing the best thing for Scott, but settling him with a woman like Kristin… no, I couldn’t let it happen, at least not without trying.
I didn’t expect Scott to come crawling back into my arms nor did I want him to. He had made a choice, and I wasn’t it. Nevertheless, I loved Scott, and justified or not, this was one thing that I could do that might, just might, help set him free.
***
Two days later, I stood in front of the Holbrook building. I knew Scott wasn’t there. I’d been watching from a diner down the street and he’d left, briefcase in hand, for an appointment in San Juan Capistrano, about a forty-five-minute drive from this location. I knew that because I was the one who’d requested the visit. I hadn’t talked with Scott of course, but his secretary. I had done a good job of disguising my voice—just in case—by placing a sock over the speaker on my phone. I’d spoken softly, sometimes so softly that the secretary had to ask me to repeat myself.
I felt guilty for sending Scott off on a wild goose chase, but there was no other way. I couldn’t take the chance of him seeing me in the building, nor approaching or leaving Mike Holbrook’s office. Was I doing the right thing, or was I only going to make things worse? I didn’t think so, because I didn’t believe that Mike Holbrook would dare tell Scott of my visit. What would I do with any information I got—much less a confession? I wasn’t sure yet.
I stood, my heart pounding, looking up at the glass and steel structure, telling myself that I could turn around and walk away. I should have, but I didn’t. I carried a leather shoulder satchel with me today, with a large front pocket. Inside was my iPhone. I knew exactly what I was going to do. My appointment was scheduled in fifteen minutes. I would take the elevator upstairs, tell the secretary that I had an appointment with Mister Holbrook, which I did, under a false name of course, and then I’d sit down and wait, pretending to check text messages. As soon as I was told I could go in to Holbrook’s office, I would pretend to finish my message and then slide the phone into the front pocket of my purse. No one would know that every moment of my upcoming conversation with the man was being recorded.
Everything proceeded as planned, and less than ten minutes later, the secretary told me I could go in to see Mister Holbrook. I knocked softly on the door once, then stepped in, closing it behind me. He stood, gesturing for me to take a seat in front of his desk in his very well appointed office. It looked a lot like Scott’s office, although the furniture was nicer, he had a huge flat screen television mounted in a small niche in a set of bookcases that ranged wall-to-wall, and an entire glass wall behind his desk looking over the city and the hills to the east.
He eyed me a moment but didn’t seem to recognize me. I tried to hide my nervousness as I quickly sat, making sure that my purse was on my lap, the pocket facing him. At this point, I just had to hope that everything worked.
“What can a do for you, Miss…” He quickly glanced down at an open calendar book and then up again. “Miss Lang?”
He sat down, his attention fully on me now, leaning forward, arms crossed on his desk. I swallowed. “Actually, it’s Megan. Megan Bryan. Daughter of Ruben and Ann Bryan.” I was surprised at how steady and calm my voice sounded in the silence of the room. He said nothing for several seconds. He didn’t blink, didn’t clear his throat, didn’t lean back in his chair, nothing. No hint that he even cared or that maybe he didn’t recognize the name.
He just sat there, looking at me. “You do remember my father, don’t you? Ruben? An old business associate of yours?” Again nothing. No reaction. “I know what you did to my father.”
He offered a twitch of his lips. “And what exactly did I do to your father, Megan?”
“You drove him to suicide,” I said shortly. He had the audacity to offer a slight shrug.
“That was business. Ruben understood that, if you’re referring to the deal. Wasn’t my fault he hadn’t planned for unexpected contingencies. Nor that he had to file for bankruptcy.” He paused and shook his head. “Nor was it my fault that your father was so weak that he couldn’t keep it together.”
For several seconds, I was rendered speechless. Absolutely speechless. Then, a white-hot rage built within me. It took every ounce of my self-control to sit there and stare at this man and not lunge over the table and punch that arrogant smirk off his face. But I didn’t.
“I’m a busy man, Miss Bryan. What more do you want? You’ve said your piece.”
I put on my best poker face and proceeded, my voice steely calm. “I know about your arrangement with Kristin. I also know the baby isn’t Scott’s.”
Finally, I saw a twitch of emotion on the bastard’s face. He leaned back in his chair, swallowed, and began to tap his index finger on the blotter. I said nothing, just waited. He eyed me for several seconds, as if waiting for me to say more. I knew that saying more might tip my hand so I waited him out, as difficult as it was.
“Would you mind telling me exactly how you came by that information?”
“Actually, I would,” I said. While I maintained an outward show of calm, inside, I couldn’t believe how easy it had been. My heart pounded, and my mind reeled. So, it was true.
“And I suppose you’re here looking for a payoff?”
“A payoff?” I snorted, a decidedly unladylike snort, but I couldn’t help it. “I’m not looking for, nor interested in, a payoff,” I snapped.
“Then what do you want?”
I lifted an eyebrow. What did I want? “I just want you to know that I know what you’re doing to your son. And one of these days, he’s going to find out—”
Mike Holbrook stood so suddenly that his chair nearly tipped over. I startled, watching him warily. His face turned a dark shade of red. “Tell me who told you. I know it couldn’t have been Kristin. I paid her good and well for her silence.” He took a moment to calm his temper and sat down again. “How did you find out?”
As calmly as I could, I stood, moving slightly around the chair from which I had just risen, keeping it and the desk between me and an obviously furious Mike Holbrook. He wouldn’t dare attack me in his office, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I turned to leave. His voice stopped me cold.
“If you say one word to Scott, I’ll make your life a living hell, do you understand me? And I’ll make sure that hell includes your mother.”
I turned and stared at him, amazed how this man could’ve had a son his complete opposite in temperament. I spoke low, my voice cold. “You touch me or my mother, and you can guarantee that the truth will come out. And I’ll keep a recording of your threat and take it to the police. Do you understand me?”
“Get out,” he growled. “If I see you in this building again, or anywhere near Scott, you’ll be sorry.”
I didn’t even bother to offer a retort. I calmly turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind me. Only after I nodded a polite greeting to the secretary, walked down a short hallway, and then made my way toward the stairs. I didn’t dare take the elevator for fear that he would follow and entrap me inside. I hurried down, taking two steps at a time, my breath coming fast, my heart pounding so hard I heard it in my ears.
I had the proof I needed, but now what was I going to do with it?