"You trust him?" I ask.
"Implicitly."
"That's good enough for me. Brandon?” It’s only fair I ask him.
“I’m good.”
“Amelia, is that okay with you?"
"Yes.”
“Great. Let’s all sit on the deck and have some coffee and breakfast. From what you're unwilling to share, it's clear Amelia will need as much support as she can once she's done talking to her dad.”
CHAPTER 74
Amelia
I grab my phone from Holden's room and make my way to the office. I've been pacing the room for the last ten minutes. I know I need to make the call, but I need to calm down first. My temples throb and blood pumps at a furious pace through my veins. I'm like a pressure cooker. Bitch. How many times has Abigail given me a condescending lecture on what’s proper and what isn’t? All the insults she’s spewed at me in her effort to put me down when all this time she was fucking a pastor. A fucking pastor! The same guy who turned down Charlie's advances based on the false pretense that he had a higher calling. I guess his higher calling was the Prime Minister's wife’s fanny. I shake my head, flashing back to some of the photos that will be permanently etched in my memory.
I look at my phone again and exhale loudly. "You can do this.” I press on the little FaceTime icon, but just like the last five times, I hang up before it even has a chance to ring. "Come on." I ready myself to dial again, but stop. “Shit, the earrings.” I remove my gift and drop them on the coffee table. There’s no point in giving my father a reason to ask questions. I find the courage that’s eluded me so far on the seventh try.
"Ladybug. How’s my favorite daughter?" I can't believe he finds it in him to be this lighthearted.
"Daddy, I'm your only daughter,” I remind him with a smile.
"Oh yes, you're right," he chuckles. I roll my eyes amused. That's one of his favorite teases, but today it just doesn't sound the same. “So how are you, darling?"
"I'm good. I really should be asking you that question."
"So, you've heard." He pulls his lips up, but it's not a smile. It's the expression of someone who's resigned himself to accepting a bitter reality.
"Yes. Charlie was the one who sounded the alarm," I explain.
"Of course." He frowns. “Are you at Charlie's? I don't recognize the background.”
Bollocks.
In the time I’ve dated Frederick, I never called my father from his place. It was never a problem since I rarely spent the night. I really wasn't prepared for this question. Yes, my boyfriends and I agreed to talk to my father, but it was supposed to be the three of us together and it surely wasn't supposed to happen today.
"I’m at Holden's," I tread carefully. "I spent the night," I explain further. "We’re dating," I add hastily.
"Ah!" Daddy nods. "You mean he’s one of your American boyfriends." What? I have to stop my jaw from dropping. "I was hoping you'd be interested in one of the two former Navy SEALs. I underestimated you, ladybug. I never expected you’d go for both." Mother of God.
My heart stops cold. For a second I’m certain I’ve misheard him, but the way his intense gaze holds mine lets me know otherwise.
Still, I'm unwilling to admit anything. Not yet. "What do you mean?"
"We’re adults here, Amelia. Given the fiasco that is my marriage, there's no point in lying."
I'm so out of sorts, I'm not sure how to tackle this. Sweat trickles down my back and my heart drums so hard against my chest, I fear I might collapse. "Daddy," I croak. My throat is so dry, the word comes out scratchy.
“I saw the tinge of worry flash in your eyes, darling,” he challenges.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I refute in a desperate attempt to gain control of this conversation.
"You're right. Maybe we should start from the beginning. We can talk about Brandon and Holden later." My stomach is a tight knot and nerves are gripping my throat like a vise. Suddenly my hand is clammy, and I tighten my grip around my phone to avoid dropping it. Oh my God, he really knows. "You called me because you found out—like the rest of the country—that Abigail has been cheating on me," he says, changing subjects.
"So, you knew?"
He nods. "This was a well-orchestrated affair. That's why I'm here in Cyprus. Grayson and the team of publicists he hired suggested that I get out of London. My own publicity team didn’t even know what was coming. We didn’t want this news to leak. You know Grayson. The man is extremely meticulous. He leaves nothing to chance.” Charlie was right.
"Grayson?" I ask stupefied.
"Yes. My best friend couldn't wait to draw up the divorce papers. As you know, he never found it in his heart to accept Abigail. One of his lawyers has already served Abigail with the divorce papers.” Yay! “That visit was followed by two of my officers who escorted Abigail to the curb. I was kind enough to book her a hotel room for two weeks at the Premier Inn London Blackfriars, which I paid for with my own money.” Yikes, that’s not a great hotel. “She's lucky I didn't book her ass in a dingy budget hotel in an unsafe part of town," he spits out. I bite off a smile.
"Wow!" He really was ready for this.
"Of course, she walks away with nothing but the clothes on her back. Not even our surname—thank God your brothers and Grayson forced me to add that clause in the prenup." There's something almost cruel veiling my father's eyes.
"Did my brothers call?”
"I already spoke to Patrick and Daniel. It's still only four-thirty in the morning in New York. I'm sure Sebastian will be in touch when he wakes up,” he says matter-of-factly.
"How did you find out?"
"It was quite by accident, really." That frozen smile again. "Right after Abigail left for Munich to be with her sister, 10 Downing Street was quiet again. She wasn't yapping her head off morning, day and night. One night, after a grueling day, I found myself wallowing in self-pity. In other words, I desperately missed your mum and I was feeling particularly melancholic."
My heart drops at his confession.
“Oh, Daddy."
“I know, ladybug. I can't bring her back." He chokes before wiping away tears trickling down his cheek. That does it. I start crying. "How many times have I told you that you're not supposed to cry just because your old man is a sentimental fool who’s still in love with his first wife," he says gently with a sad smile. Blimey. He actually said the words.
“It’s okay for you to still love Mum,” I say in between tears.
"I know, darling. I still don’t understand why God had to take her away.” We both start crying again. It takes us a while to find our composure. “To seek comfort, I decided to sit in her old office and enjoy a glass of brandy.” While Daddy recounts his story, I grab a tissue from the desk behind me to wipe away my tears. “I was planning on listening to one of the Eagles’ old records.” Dad kept Mum’s office intact. A few years after her death, he bought one of those super duper record players—with a pricey turntable—to listen to Mum’s old vinyl records. Abigail thought she was going to inherit Mum’s office when she moved in. Dad was quick to burst her bubble. He had another much smaller room designed for his second wife. “You know how Mum loved Hotel California." I nod, fighting back more tears. Mum traveled the world, but she had a particular affection for the West Coast of the United States. "I never ended up listening to that song,” he announces.
"Why not?"
"When I entered her office, I noticed that the door to the closet was ajar. The cleaning staff knows better, but I thought maybe one of them was distracted and left it opened. I crossed the room to close it, but for some reason I decided to peek inside. That's when I noticed a black suitcase poking from under a blanket. I had never seen it before. Everything in that office is frozen in my memory." He's not lying. "Curious, I dropped my glass on the desk so that my hands were free to pull it out. I immediately knew it didn't belong to your mum."
"How did you know?"
"Firstly, I only bought Mum
designer suitcases. Secondly, as much as I loved that woman with all of my heart, she always managed to pack half her wardrobe every time we traveled. A carry-on would barely contain her jewelry collection for the trip," my father chuckles.
"Oh my God, that's funny." He's right. Mum wasn't a light packer.
“From the outside, the carry-on looked like an ordinary beaten up suitcase. The large padlock securing it indicated otherwise. I was immediately puzzled. Instead of attempting to break open the lock, I called in my officers. They have the tools to get in and out of the most conspicuous places undetected. As I waited for them to arrive, all sorts of conspiracy theories were brewing in my head." He pauses. He fixes me with his piercing green eyes and before he even speaks, I know it's not good. “When Officer Haeser opened the lock and unzipped the suitcase, my whole axis shifted.”
“What was in it?" I ask, riveted.
“Proof that my second marriage was a complete and utter sham."
"What do you mean?"
Don't get me wrong, I’m elated that we’re about to kick Abigail out of our lives, but I'm intrigued to find out how Daddy figured it all out.
"There was an opened envelope with Abigail's name and an address I’d never heard of before."
"A London address?"
"No. One in Salisbury. As far as I knew, Abigail was renting a house in Chelsea.” Strange. "When I patted the envelope, it was clear it wasn’t empty. I just wasn't prepared for what was inside."
"What did you discover?" I ask.
"Ultrasound scans."
"What?" Okay, that's the last thing I thought he was going to say.
"There were three of them. Two showed one fetus and the third one showed two—twins I suppose.” Huh? “I thought it was curious, so I picked up the envelope again and that's when I saw it. I was oblivious to it the first time around."
"To what?" I press.
"It came from a Mrs. Wallis from the Mesut Özil Draxler Klinik in Munich, Germany and the date clearly indicated that these were sent right after I had proposed to Abigail.”
“Isn't that where Maude works?”
"Precisely."
"That sounds a bit morbid. Why would Abigail’s sister send those? And why Salisbury?"
"I didn't have the answers yet. But there was more. As if that wasn’t bizarre enough, when I sifted through the suitcase, I found a large vial wrapped in bubble wrap that contained something dried up. Since it was red, I assumed it was blood."
"Are you kidding me?"
"No, ladybug."
"That's disgusting," I screw my nose up.
"Personally, I found it perturbing.” I grimace again. “Further inspection revealed two mobile phones and a laptop. Up to that point, I didn't even know those were in my home. As you’re fully aware, we have very strict guidelines when it comes to electronic devices—even personal ones have to be vetted by the security team."
"Of course."
“Without having to check, I had a keen impression that I wasn't the only one who was in the dark about those devices."
"What was she up to?"
"This tale is more complex than the best mystery novel,” he says. "I also found tons of paper—printouts of email conversations. As I prepared myself to read a few of them, my eye caught a flat metallic black box sitting at the very bottom of the suitcase. Of course it was locked. Officer Haeser played magician again and that's when the plot thickened."
"What was in it?" This is so much to take in.
"Wads of money secured with elastic bands. I estimated twenty thousand pounds."
"Why would Abigail hide money?"
"At that point, I really couldn't come to any conclusions," my father says flatly. “The one thing I knew was that it wasn't a good idea to touch anything else. I asked Officer Haeser to call in one of the forensic officers, so she could collect samples. It was imperative that I found out if my suspicions were correct and if so, where did that blood come from. I also had a few of our top hackers rushed over so they could migrate data from the devices. I demanded a full report of every line of conversation they could find. A few other officers scanned every single piece of paper in that suitcase. I didn't want anything removed from number 10. Four hours later, I put the suitcase back where I found it, grabbed my glass of brandy and left Mum’s office. I gave strict instructions to the cleaning staff supervisor to forbid anyone from entering that room until further notice." My father pauses. "That incident happened a week before the honorary ceremony."
"You didn’t just drop that last part casually?"
He shakes his head. "No, I didn't. Everyone was fooled by my cool demeanor after the Ralph Delaware incident because that's what was expected of me—the Prime Minister should always be composed and stoic. Deep down inside, I wanted to strangle Ralph with my own two hands in front of a room filled with witnesses. How dare he disrespect my daughter? After I was able to somewhat calm down, I started to piece together the events in my head. I couldn't shake off the fact that none of it made sense."
"What does Ralph have to do with Abigail’s suitcase?" I frown.
"For the longest time, I thought it was a fluke. Just a coincidence that Ralph went on and on about your mum, but never asked about Abigail. My second marriage is public. I know a lot of people detest Abigail, but they still make an effort. I thought perhaps Ralph was so taken aback by your beauty that he forgot his manners. No matter how many times I tried to make that theory fit, I wasn't satisfied. There was still this incessant nagging voice in the back of my head warning me that there was more."
"I still don't understand the connection."
"I'll get back to Ralph in a minute. Let me go back to the suitcase.”
“Okay.”
“For the first three days, I had to allow the team to do its job while I went about my day. It absolutely killed me to have to wait. Do you remember the President of the United States’ last visit?”
“Of course. That was also right before the ceremony.”
“Well, after a long day of negotiation, President McClory and I ended his official visit over dinner. That's when it all came crashing like a tidal wave."
"How is the President connected to this?"
"President McClory and the First Lady were gushing over their first granddaughter. They were joking about how different the experience is from being first time jittery parents. I was thrilled for them. As I admired the photos of their beautiful granddaughter on the First Lady’s mobile, it all made sense."
"You lost me."
"The ultrasound scans were part of a ruse.” Daddy pauses before dropping the bomb. "Abigail was never pregnant."
"Ha," I gasp. "What are you talking about? She was completely despondent after that trip to Paris."
"Abigail fooled us all. Do you remember how I mentioned that her sister stressed numerous times that Abigail had lost an insane amount of blood, yet, they refused the suggestion that I fly my doctor in, and they turned me down when I said we should go to the hospital—all based on Maude’s profession?"
"Yes." I don't like where this is going.
"Do you also remember how much I harped on about how spotless the bathroom in Maude’s hotel room was?”
"Of course."
“Technically, that's where Abigail lost the baby. Where was all the blood? When I brought it up, both Maude and Milo were quick to explain how Milo could clean the dingiest of places and have it sparkling in a blink of an eye. They were bloody painting Milo as this fucking modern-day Mary Poppins." When my father swears, someone's head is about to get chopped off.
"That struck me as odd as well, but you seemed satisfied with that answer," I remind him.
Another condescending sneer. "I wouldn't go that far. I accepted it at the time because so much had happened that night. I didn't want to question them further. In any case, after seeing The President and the First Lady off, I called Officer Watson—who’s overseeing the investigation team—and I asked him to expedite the tests on the blood sam
ple. I also asked him to put a double on everything else his team was investigating. Once I hung up with him, I immediately called Grayson to fill him in and asked him to hire private investigators—”
"Why?” I interrupt.
"I needed eyes in Salisbury and in Munich. Secondly, this was personal, therefore I couldn't in good conscience use Government money to fund this witch hunt." I'm shocked by my father's revelation. "Going back to what I was saying, Grayson promised to get back to me within two days with a team in Britain and one in Germany. There was a real sense of urgency. I knew I’d been conned—I was certain of it. I just didn't know how bad it was."
"Mother of God," I mutter.
“Fast forward to the eve of the Gala and clues were finally surfacing—the blood was pig blood—”
“What?” I shriek. "Why would Abigail need that?"
“I'm still not sure. My guess?" He arches an eyebrow.
"Please,” I encourage.
"Maybe it was a backup plan just in case I hadn't shown up at Maude’s hotel room in Paris for some reason, or maybe they had planned on setting up the ruse in London." He shrugs. “That's the best I can come up with. But honestly that’s the least shocking find on the list.”
"You can't be serious."
He lets out a long sigh before continuing. "One of the mobile phones and the laptop contained loads of very explicit conversations between Abigail and Reverend Nesmith. They started seeing each other not long after the Reverend arrived at Ludlow Abbey."
"Dear God." I facepalm.
"There were even very raunchy videos of them shagging. Without protection." I really didn’t need to hear that. "And there were trophy selfies of them grinning at the camera butt naked. There were many of Reverend Nesmith sucking Abigail’s breasts and other parts of her."
"God."
"And there was a ridiculous number of photos of Abigail sucking Nesmith’s manhood.” I cringe. "My initial impulse was to confront Abigail, but there were still too many unanswered questions, so I refrained.”
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