The Million Dollar Deception Read online

  He would tell her that she should check her account again, just to make sure she had the funds available, and that’s when she would see that the money was missing. That was when all the work that Nate had done would finally pay off.

  He had picked up the phone and punched the first number when there was a knock on his door.

  “Yes?” Nate said, mildly annoyed.

  “Mr. Kenny,” Mrs. Weatherly said from behind the door. “You have a guest.”

  “Who is it?”

  “She would not say.”

  Nate smiled, setting down the phone. He knew it was Monica. It would be good to see her, even though she had left only two hours ago.

  As Nate walked down the hall, he heard Nathaniel laughing, and he figured Monica was playing with his son in the living room. But when Nate entered, he saw that it was not Monica, but Daphanie. Her suitcases were near the front door, and she sat on the sofa, Nathaniel in her arms, tickling him.

  Nate was shocked to see her there, for she hadn’t called to let him know she’d be coming home early.

  But as he walked closer to her, he remembered she had called, a number of times. He was just so caught up with Monica that he had not bothered to answer or retrieve the messages.

  Nate crossed the carpet, wishing he could have appreciated just how good she looked. Her hair was cut into a slightly different style. Her brown strands were now highlighted with blonde streaks, and she wore a pale pink outfit Nate had never seen. She looked rested, her skin almost glowed as though the time away rejuvenated her.

  “Hey! Surprise, surprise,” Nate said, trying to seem enthused about her early arrival, as he walked to her, his arms open.

  Daphanie hoisted Nathaniel off her lap, and stood. She wrapped her arms around Nate, hugged him tight, and kissed him on the cheek. “I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer. Did you get my messages?”

  Nate paused for a moment, something not seeming right. He couldn’t put his finger on it, so he said, “I’m sorry. I was so caught up with this client that—”

  “I know. With Mr. Nate, business always comes first,” Daphanie said, smiling. But Nate knew the smile wasn’t a sincere one. He could tell something was bothering her.

  “Well, are you hungry? Do you want to go out and get some lunch?”

  “McDonald’s!” Nathaniel said.

  “No. I’m fine,” Daphanie said. “Just a little thirsty.”

  “There’s cranberry, orange juice, some punch in the fridge. Or were you talking about something a little stronger?”

  “Just some water, please.”

  “Coming right up,” Nate said. As he walked toward the kitchen, he glanced back at Daphanie, saw her rubbing her temples as though something was really bothering her.

  Nate poured some cold water into a glass, and just stood there beside the fridge, trying to put his finger on what was giving him such a weird feeling. He thought back to the moment he had hugged her, then he realized—no! She couldn’t have.

  All of a sudden Nate’s knees felt weak. That couldn’t have been the case, Nate told himself. He must be wrong. He knew there was only one way to find out.

  Nate walked quietly back into the living room, stood before Daphanie with the water. She had not even recognized him there, she was so caught up in what seemed to be bothering her.

  “Daphanie, baby. Your water.”

  She looked up at Nate with what he read to be a sad, accusatory expression on his face.

  “I don’t think I want the water,” Daphanie said. “I just want to go upstairs, shower, and take a nap.”

  And that’s when Nate realized he had smelled the perfume she was wearing now. It was different from what she always wore, a fragrance she had probably bought in England, the same scent that he had smelled on the woman from his dream last night.

  Daphanie walked slowly toward the stairs.

  “It wasn’t a dream, was it?” Nate said. “It was really you. You were here.”

  Daphanie turned around, her face wet with tears.

  81

  It appeared that Daphanie would have stayed with him, Nate thought, after he had confessed that it was his wife with him in bed.

  Daphanie had told Nate that she was trying to call him to tell him that she was coming home early. She didn’t leave it on his voice mail, because she wanted to surprise him.

  When she got home, it was late, and she didn’t want to wake him, just slide into bed beside him, and make love to him.

  But she said she could almost tell the moment after she had let herself in the house that something wasn’t right.

  After telling Nate all this, Daphanie tearfully asked who was the woman he was in bed with. Nate admitted it was his ex-wife.

  “Tell me it was a one-time thing, that you don’t still love her, that we can just forget about it. I promise I’ll never mention it again.”

  This was the moment. Nate could have done what Daphanie asked, and continued on with her, but he would have been lying. He did love Monica, and he hoped it wasn’t the last time he’d be with her. So despite how much Nate knew it would hurt her, he said, “I still love her, Daphanie. I think we should end this now.”

  An hour later, after Daphanie gathered the things she had left at his house over the course of their relationship, Nate stood just outside his front door, and watched as she got in her car and drove away.

  Nate turned to go back in the house, when suddenly, he felt the barrel of a gun pressed to the side of his head. He heard the gun cock. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lewis step out of the bushes that bordered the sides of his doorway.

  “Who’s in the house?” Lewis said, his voice low.

  “Nobody. My son and his nanny are in her guest house out back.”

  “Good. Move.”

  Lewis held the gun on Nate as he walked behind him, through the house, and toward Nate’s den.

  Inside the den, Lewis closed the door.

  He looked around, his eyes settling on the framed oil painting on the wall. “Take that down.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nate said.

  Lewis walked over to Nate, struck him across the top of his head with the butt of the gun. Nate fell to both knees, almost blacking out.

  “Get up,” Lewis said.

  Nate slowly started to raise himself from the floor.

  “I said, get the fuck up!”

  Nate moved faster.

  Lewis pointed the gun at Nate. “I know what you’ve been up to, motherfucker. I know what you’ve done.”

  “Who told you?” Nate said, his hands raised to shoulder height.

  “Who the fuck you think? The man you’ve been blackmailing.”

  Nate shook his head, sorry that he would have to deal with Freddy later.

  “Now I’m about a minute from putting a bullet in yo’ ass, unless you do exactly what I tell you.”

  “You aren’t shooting anyone,” Nate said, defiantly. “Kill me, you go to jail, and who takes care of your little girl. You came here for the money. I’ll give it to you, and you can rush over and try to deposit it back into Monica’s account, but it won’t do any good. She’ll still find out you’ve taken it, if she hasn’t found out already, and then it’s over for you.”

  “Let me worry about that,” Lewis said, taking a step closer to him, shoving the gun in Nate’s face. “Just open the fucking safe and get my goddamn money.”

  82

  After Monica had left Nate’s house that morning and driven home, she had expected Lewis to be there. She was going to walk into the house, sit him down, and once and for all figure out what they were going to do—figure out if there was a future for them or not. But she didn’t see his truck on the street, and when she pulled her car into the garage, his truck was not there either. Monica walked up the walk, carrying her overnight bag, when she noticed the old Ford parked across the street once again.

  Monica stopped at the sight of the car, as she always did. But this time it was differ
ent. The older woman was not sitting behind the wheel—she was standing beside the car.

  From across the street, the woman looked directly into Monica’s eyes, then started toward her.

  “Hello,” she said, once she reached Monica. “My name is Bertrice Thompson. Can I talk to you?”

  The woman told Monica a shocking story, one that she didn’t think she could believe.

  “My daughter cannot have children of her own, and she and her husband were ready to adopt the little girl named Layla.”

  “What do you mean, adopt Layla?” Monica asked, surprised. “Layla was never up for adoption.”

  “She was. Last year. The father, Lewis Waters, the man who lives in that house with you, had put her up for adoption. My daughter and my son-in-law said they wanted the child. They went through the process, and all the while, Mr. Waters would bring her over so they could spend time with the little girl. She even spent the weekend a couple of times.”

  Monica felt a wave of jealousy pass over her at the thought of another woman mothering Layla.

  “They loved that child, wanted to sign contracts and everything, till Mr. Waters suddenly changed his mind.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Monica said.

  “Then come with me. You can talk to my daughter.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” Monica said, anger in her voice. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about.”

  “Please,” Mrs. Thompson said. “If you only knew what my daughter went through to get that child, how deeply she fell in love with her.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs.—”

  “If you knew what it was like to not be able to have children, then you’d understand how important this was to her,” Mrs. Thompson said.

  Monica stopped, her heart going out to the woman’s daughter. “Okay, Mrs. Thompson,” Monica said. “I’ll follow you in my car.”

  Mrs. Thompson’s daughter was beautiful, a nurse, and a year younger than Monica. It wasn’t premature menopause that had stripped Barbara of her ability to have children, but a childhood disease. The failed adoption had happened just as Mrs. Thompson had told Monica. Barbara even had dozens of pictures to support her mother’s claims.

  Barbara took Monica up to see what was supposed to have been Layla’s room. It was painted pink. Matching pink curtains hung from the windows, stuffed animals crowded the twin bed.

  “What am I supposed to do about this?” Monica said outside the front door as she was preparing to leave.

  “Have him reconsider,” Mrs. Thompson said, speaking for her daughter.

  “I don’t know if I can do that. I love the child, too.”

  “Then just think about it,” Barbara said. “And if you find it in your heart, you know where we are.”

  Monica hugged Barbara, feeling closer to her than Barbara would ever know. Monica received a hug from Mrs. Thompson and said, “Take care.”

  As Monica walked toward her car, she felt a deep depression descending upon her. Her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID, saw that it was Nate. She wasn’t in the mood to speak to him that moment but answered the call anyway.

  “Hello.”

  “Monica!” Nate said, sounding frenzied. “Can you get here as fast as you can. It’s an emergency!”

  “Why? What’s wrong!”

  “Lewis just stuck a gun to my head and stole fifty thousand dollars from me.”

  83

  The story I told you about Tim and me getting into a bar fight? That was a lie,” Nate said after Monica arrived. “Lewis and his friend Freddy, I don’t know if you know him, they jumped me, right outside, while Nathaniel was still in the car. They beat me pretty badly.”

  “No!” Monica gasped. “Why would they do that?”

  “Ever since our meeting, Lewis had been accusing me of trying to get you back. And although I did want you, I never came to him with that. But he wouldn’t let it go. He would call my office, threatening me. He would e-mail me photos, trying to let me know—”

  “E-mailed you photos?” Monica interrupted. “What kind of photos?”

  Nate walked over to his computer, opened up his photo software. “I didn’t say anything to you because I figured he was just going through something, and I didn’t want to start anything between the two of you, but…,” Nate said, clicking on the attachment, opening up the three still photos Lewis had sent of him and Monica having sex.

  Upon seeing them, Monica threw her hand over her mouth, shocked. “Oh my God,” she winced.

  Nate moved the mouse, clicked on another file to open it, and said, “There’s more.”

  He opened up the video player, clicked the play button, and the video of Monica having sex with Lewis began to play. “Oh, no!” Monica said, even more overwhelmed. “Turn it off. Please!”

  Nate did as he was asked. “I didn’t want to show you those. But after what he just did, I figured you needed to know what was going on.”

  “I’m so sorry, Nate,” Monica said, looking as embarrassed as he had ever seen her. “But you said he put a gun to your head.”

  Nate pulled the towel he was pressing to his forehead away and showed Monica the blood that oozed from the wound Lewis had given him. “And he stole fifty thousand dollars from my safe.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Lewis.”

  “I have hidden surveillance cameras throughout my house and office. I have the proof if you want to see it.”

  “No,” Monica said. “But why would he take money from you?

  “I don’t know. Maybe he gambles. Maybe he owes someone and they’re threatening his life. But one thing I asked myself, if he’d steal from me, what would stop him from stealing from you?”

  “What?” Monica said, sounding dismayed at the very idea that it could be true.

  “I know you don’t want to believe it, but when was the last time you checked your accounts?”

  “I don’t know. The day we went to see the building. He’s bought some things without telling me right away. But he wouldn’t take that kind of money without informing me. He just wouldn’t.”

  Nate stepped out from behind his computer. “I’m not saying that he did, but go online. Just check to make sure.”

  Monica quickly took Nate’s place behind the keyboard and started busily tapping away at the keys. She grabbed the mouse, moved it about, clicking it frantically, then stopped, focusing her eyes on the screen, and said, “Oh my God! There was a fifty thousand dollar withdrawal almost a week ago.”

  “It was him, Monica. It was Lewis.”

  “No.”

  Nate grabbed Monica by the shoulders. “What do you want to do? I told you, I have proof. Normally I would go to the police with this, but because this is your fiancé, if you want to just work this out with him yourself, I’ll let you do that. But you have to do something.”

  Monica paid little attention to what Nate was saying, still not believing that Lewis would do this to her.

  “Monica! Do I call the police, or do you want to handle this?”

  Monica focused on Nate. “I’ll do it.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No,” Monica said. “That’ll just make things worse.”

  “Then you should call the police. He has a gun.”

  Monica stood, grabbed her purse from the desk.” I don’t know,” she said, looking uncertain about just what her next move would be. “I have to think. But I’ll handle this, and I’ll get your money back. I promise.”

  Nate pulled Monica into him, giving her a hug. “I’m sorry all this had to happen.”

  “Me, too.”

  84

  Twenty minutes later, Layla said from the back seat of Lewis’s truck, “Daddy, are you okay?”

  Things weren’t perfect, but Lewis said, “I’m better now.” He was driving home from the bank, where he had deposited the money he had taken back from Nate. Turning the corner to the block where he lived, he thought how surprised he was that Monica had no
t called his cell phone. He was sure Nate had called her, told her everything that had happened. The entire ride home, Lewis had been trying to decide what it was he was going to tell Monica. Would it be lies, a portion of the truth, or the entire thing? He wasn’t sure, but just like the last time he’d gotten caught up in a situation with Nate, Lewis realized that the truth would probably be the best way to go.

  Monica would understand, Lewis told himself. Hell, she was his fiancé, they were on the verge of getting married. This would be something they would just have to get past.

  When Lewis pulled the truck to a stop and parked in front of the house, he was surprised to see Monica sitting on the front steps, her face in her hands.

  Lewis got out of the truck, staring at her as he opened the back door and pulled Layla from her car seat. Walking toward Monica, he could not read a single emotion on her face. She stood, called for Layla, extending her arms.

  Lewis set Layla down on the grass and watched his daughter run to her.

  Reaching the stairs, Lewis braced himself, and said, “What’s going on?”

  Hugging Layla, Monica looked up sadly at Lewis and said, “You love your daughter, don’t you?”

  “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”

  “Then why were you going to give her up for adoption?”

  Lewis almost stumbled backward after hearing the question. He wondered how Monica could have found out about this, and then Bertrice came to mind. “That was almost a year ago. Before—”

  “Before I came back into your life?”

  “Right,” Lewis admitted.

  “I know. I had to think about it, and I figured I’m the reason you changed your mind at the last minute. I figured you thought since I couldn’t have children, not having Layla would probably lessen your chances of me wanting to be with you.”

  “Monica, not in front of Layla. Let’s talk about this inside.”

  “No! It makes me wonder just how much you love her, if you were going to give her away but only decided to keep her because I came back into the picture.”