His Little Wife Lie: A Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance

by Storm, Sloan

  "Assaulted her. Not to worry. I happened to be nearby and handled his sorry ass."

  "Mr. Foster, I had no idea…"

  "I'm not saying you did."

  He hesitated. "Is she okay?"

  "Thanks to me, yes."

  "Well thank you for intervening. I owe Lily a huge apology. I feel terrible, no clue Ernie was capable of something like that."

  Yeah, right. I'm sure. Perverts always leave clues. Their behavior is never accidental. Anyway, now that I had him nervous, it was time to make my terms clear.

  "Ernie's not the reason I'm calling," I said, exhaling. Time to wrap things up. "I'm giving you a chance to make it up to Lily."

  "How's that?"

  "It's pretty simple. I've got a job opportunity for her, but before I can offer it, I'll need you to let her go from the creamery. Fire for her any reason, doesn't matter what it is. Make something up if you need to."

  His attitude changed in a hurry. "Mr. Foster, I feel terrible about what happened, but sir, I'm not firing Lily from the creamery, she's way too valuable."

  I expected as much. Not many people like being told what to do.

  "I understand, but you've really got no other option. Don't worry about Lily, she'll be more than well compensated for losing that shitty job."

  Dillard dug in. "I don't care. Your veiled threats don't bother me. I don't care if you're a Foster. There's no way I'm firing her."

  I eased back into the chair, kicking my feet on the table once more. "I'd prefer it if we could handle this privately. It'd be a shame to have to make an example out of you."

  "I'd prefer it if you went straight to hell. How's that sound, Griff?"

  I shook my head in silence. Idiot. "Fine. Have it your way. Either you do what I tell you, or I will buy the creamery, fire you myself, and make certain you never see a dime of your pension. Wanna run that idea by Mrs. Dillard and see what she thinks about it?"

  There was a rustling sound on the other end of the line but no response. I continued.

  "Now, if you're smart, you'll do what you're told. If not, I'll pursue my scorched Earth strategy. It's your choice."

  A few more seconds of silence. I'm sure he sat there contemplating the sorry excuse for a life he had before he responded.

  "You Fosters… you're all alike. All any of you care about is money, power, and prestige. It doesn't matter who gets in the way, how many lives you have to destroy. Does it?"

  I rolled my eyes. My entire life I'd heard insults like that hurled at me and my family. Didn't bother me in the slightest. Weak men like the Dillard Watsons of the world will never understand what it means to be successful.

  "What's it gonna be, Dillard? Quit fucking around. Give me an answer. Now."

  7

  Expendable (Lily)

  The next morning, I hobbled into work on time as usual. I'd never been late for a day of work, and today was no exception.

  I clocked in, pretty much expecting Dillard to summon me to his office right away. I doubted Ernie would waste any time telling him his version of what happened yesterday. But I never heard from him. The hours ticked by like normal. Maybe Ernie hadn't said anything yet. Weird.

  Anyway, it was around lunchtime when I got up from my desk, ready to go out and grab a bite. Just then, my desk phone buzzed.

  "Lily, I need to see you. ASAP." Dillard's voice crackled from the little speaker. Shit.

  I picked up, nibbling at my lip. "Can it wait? I was just about to run out and get some lunch. I…"

  "Nope. Need to see ya. Right now." He disconnected.

  A few minutes later, I turned the corner leading to his office. Glancing at his half-opened door, I blew out a long exhale. Relax. Ernie is the bad guy here, remember?

  I rapped on the door. Dillard never looked up from the pile of papers on his desk. With a pen, he gestured toward a chair across from his desk.

  "Close the door. Have a seat."

  Wrapping my fingers around the doorknob, I choked a hard lump down my throat. A few seconds later, I slid into the seat and looked at him. Dillard nudged his horn-rimmed frames up his nose and drew his baggy eyes in my direction. For several seconds, he drummed his sausage-like fingers on the desk. The look on his face said it all. Where do I begin?

  This had to be about Ernie. I'd never been summoned to Dillard's office for anything. Ever. Still, I wasn't about to offer up any details. Better to sit and wait than to stick my foot in my mouth for no good reason. With an exhale, Dillard eased back in his chair and tugged at the waist of his pants. His paunch spilled over the sides, two decades of cushy desk job on full display.

  My jaw tightened. Well?

  "Not gonna keep you in suspense," he began, clearing his throat for emphasis. "We're being forced to make some changes around here. Lots of changes."

  Wait. What about Ernie? I blinked a couple of times. This sounded like something else entirely. And not in a good way.

  "Ooookay. What kinds of changes?"

  "Automation." The word carried a glum tone. "The plant is undergoing a renovation and modernization phase. We've got the first wave coming on next week. As a result, some positions are no longer going to be needed."

  I shifted in my seat. My stomach sank.

  "Which positions? Mine?"

  Dillard leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk. His lower lip poked out, deep creases formed across his forehead.

  "'Fraid so." He nodded, the droopy skin from his jowls wiggling. "Hate to have to break it to you like this. Just no easy way to do it. Effective immediately, I've gotta cut you loose."

  "Uh! How come I haven't heard a single thing about this from anyone?" I paused, pointing in the direction of the production room floor. "Something like this would have tongues wagging."

  Not sure if he was ready for the pushback, but he was gonna get it.

  "It's out of my hands, Lily."

  I pulled myself to the edge of the seat, crossing my fingers in a prayerful gesture. "Dillard, please. I need this job! I'm one of the best workers you've got. I don't get it? Why me?"

  He looked away, shaking his head. Now see! I'm calling bullshit.

  "Right there!" I pointed at him. "Why won't you look at me? What's really going on? This is about Ernie, isn't it?"

  Dillard's expression turned suspicious. "No. Did something happen with Ernie I should know about?"

  Shit. What should I say?

  Before I could come up with anything, he stood from his chair, hitching up his pants once more. "Forget about Ernie. What's happening has nothing do with him."

  I shot to my feet, following close behind him while he waddled to his office door.

  "I've arranged for you to receive two weeks of compensation." Dillard turned and looked at me. "Also, since you've been with the company for a while, you can file for unemployment benefits."

  Unemployment benefits?

  He wagged a fat finger, giving me a smug nod. "I'll also see to it you see some extra pay for doing me that favor I asked of you."

  Gee thanks. I wasn't buying a word. Not one. Favor my ass.

  "I know you're lying. I can promise you I'll be calling an employment lawyer to find out what my rights are. I don't believe a word of this automation nonsense. You hear me?"

  Dillard brushed me off. "You've gotta do what you've gotta do."

  I stood there glaring at him. "Can't believe you would stoop to this level. I always respected you as my boss."

  While I spoke, he opened the door and stood to one side. "Please clean out your workstation."

  Unbelievable. I bit my lip and stormed past him.

  "Oh and Lily?"

  "What?" I snapped, turning toward him.

  "Good luck."

  "Go to hell, Dillard."

  Later, I drove home with my box of stuff from my desk in seat next to me. What the hell was I going to do for work? I had to get busy and find something quick. But where? Jobs weren't easy to come by around here. I could always go back to waitressing at
The Junction, but ugh, if I could steer clear of it, I would. No amount of tips were worth the ass grabbing antics of drunk men avoiding the hell of going home to their brow-beating wives.

  Pulling the car into the driveway, I turned off the engine and slumped over the steering wheel when the next crisis hit me.

  Mom.

  Telling her was going to suck. That is, if she didn't know already.

  8

  Skeletons & Closets (Lily)

  "Lily!"

  Even though my bedroom was at the back of the house I could hear her yell my name from the driveway. Here we go.

  "Lily!" Louder this time, the front door slammed shut.

  "In my room!"

  Just like I suspected. It didn't take long for word to spread at the old creamery. I wondered what she already knew, if anything. Mom hustled inside, planting her hands on her hips.

  "What's this I hear about you getting fired? What'd you do?"

  I sat up, flattening my hands on the mattress. "Me! Why are you assuming this is my fault?"

  Her crossed arms spoke louder than any words from her mouth. Give me details. Hurry up.

  Now, if I told her the actual reason I thought Dillard fired me, things would get real ugly, real fast. She would so not have approved of me going on dates with Ernie for money. Or for that matter, maybe at all. That bastard Dillard painted me into a corner. I had no choice but to repeat the lie he told me, even though I was convinced it was complete bullshit.

  That's not even the worst part. That came next. A few tense seconds later, Mom plopped down on the mattress next to me.

  "I work the line, too. Are they going to replace me next?" Her face turned gray. Worry dulled her eyes when she looked at me. "If we both lose our jobs…"

  Punch, meet gut. Goddamn Dillard. I hope you're happy. Asshat.

  I scooted close to my mom, the guilt of lying to her eating away at my insides. "You don't have anything to worry about. With your seniority, I'm sure you're fine. He didn't mention anything about you, or anyone else. Try not to think about it."

  Mom stood from the bed and sighed. "Just when things were finally getting better."

  I frowned at her. Huh? She walked out of the room. "Back in a minute."

  Once she disappeared, I turned and grabbed my phone, thinking of Griff. I'd blown off his offer to help me find a job in case this whole thing with Ernie blew up in my face. But now, I mean, if it was legit, I at least had to consider it. Right now wasn't the time though. First, I had to talk Mom off the ledge, but she hadn't come back.

  I looked toward my bedroom door. "Mom!"

  A couple of seconds went by. No response.

  After leaving my room, I took a few steps down the hall when I heard her. The closer I got, the louder the sound. There was a crack in the bathroom entrance. I pressed my hand flat against the door and pushed it open.

  "Mom?" Her puffy red eyes met my reflection in the mirror. "Why are you crying?"

  If she clutched the tissues any harder, they would've rung out her tears. I reached for her shoulder, but her body went stiff. My hand fell away. What is going on?

  "If this is about my job, I'll get another one. I've got two weeks of pay coming. Seriously, we can make it."

  She sniffled and dabbed at her nose, dropping her shoulders.

  "I…" she paused, tears causing her body to jerk with convulsions. "I wish… th--that was true."

  Before I responded, she turned and walked by me without a word. Rolling my eyes, I followed right behind. There was no reason to be this upset.

  "Wait." The tips of my fingers grazed her arm. She kept walking. Muttering.

  "It doesn't matter… Nothing matters anymore. This hell is never going to end."

  Hell?

  "Mom. Stop! Jesus." I felt my fingers harden into fists. She stopped and looked at me while I tried to pry it out of her. "We've always found a way to make it before. Why should now be any different? Things have been way worse than this in the past."

  Her voice hollowed, carrying the sound of total defeat. "Don't worry about it, honey. It's not your problem anywayyyyy…"

  The tears returned, and her face folded with grief. She hid it in her hands, bawling. I'd never seen anything like this from her. She was always stoic, never prone to emotional outbursts. My chest felt tight. This was bad, whatever it was.

  "Mom." I edged closer to her. "You need to talk to me, okay? I can help, but not unless I know what's wrong."

  She waved me off. "I… I have to make dinner."

  Dinner? "No, no. That's not happening. We. Are. Talking." She tried to look away, but I snatched her arms at the shoulder, focusing her attention on me. "Talk to me."

  She didn't look good. Aside from the tears, her skin was pale, small beads of sweat collected on her forehead.

  "I don't know where to start," she sputtered. I stepped back. Was she shivering? "What am I going to do?"

  "Sit down," I said, helping her to a nearby chair. "Start wherever you want, but tell me something. Anything."

  She sniffled a couple of more times before blowing out a deep, anxious breath.

  "It's… Carl."

  Ten years. It'd been almost that long since I'd heard my mom utter his name. My deadbeat stepdad vanished during the crash of '08, leaving us to fend for ourselves after my mom followed him across the country from where I grew up in Chicago. No clue where this was going. I pulled up a chair next to her. Mom sat there, a blank stare on her face and a faraway look in her eyes.

  "What about him?"

  My words triggered her, and in a flash she dropped her head in her hands, sobbing again.

  "Mom," I began, reaching for her shoulder and giving it a gentle shake. "Have you heard from him or something?"

  "Hah!" she yelled and shot to her feet. I clutched my chest. A little warning next time! "No! I wish I had because…"

  "Wish you had because why?"

  She waved her arms in front of her body. This conversation is done. "It doesn't matter… Forget it. I'm going to make dinner."

  "No! Forget about dinner for God's sake!" I grabbed her arm. She tugged it, trying to pry it free. "Mom, calm down. What about Carl? It's obviously tearing you apart."

  Mom looked away. "Can't you see I'm ashamed?"

  She lost me. Carl's the one who cheated, lied, and left. Everyone makes bad choices in relationships. None of this was her fault.

  "Of what? Why should you have anything to be ashamed of?"

  "You were young. You don't even know the half of it."

  Okay, well, I'm not a mind reader.

  "The money, it's the money." Mom started to rock back and forth. "I can't. There's no way I can keep up."

  Not gonna lie. She was starting to frustrate me. "What money, Mom? Keep up with what? You aren't making any sense. What are you talking about?"

  "Huh?" She shook her head. "The debt, I…"

  Debt? We didn't have a mortgage. Both of our cars were crap but paid for crap. I had a little bit of debt from a stupid credit card I signed up for in college, but I'd been steadily paying it off.

  "I can't keep going," she muttered. "I'm getting older. There's no way I'll be able to pay it all off."

  "Pay all what off?"

  She sucked in a huge breath and looked at me, eyes round like moons. "The almost one million dollars I owe."

  What? Pretty sure I didn't just hear that. "A million dollars? I don't understand. Why would you owe anyone that much money?"

  Mom dropped her head in her hands, and the confession spilled out. Carl forged her name on a variety of loans back when credit was easy. As long as you had a pulse, you could get almost any amount of money you wanted. When things turned sour, he left mom holding the bag.

  But until now, I'd never known a thing about it.

  She went on to tell me she'd spent years trying to negotiate with bankers for more lenient terms, lower interest rates. Some were sympathetic, most weren't. She'd been slowly chipping away at the debt, but it became obvio
us to her she'd never be able to pay it off.

  She was my best friend. How could she have kept this from me?

  "Mom! This is nuts. Why'd you carry this burden by yourself?"

  "Because it's not yours to bear! I made the decision to be with him. It's my own fault."

  I shoved my fingers into my hair. "Okay, but you're not the one that made the decision to forge your signature. Isn't there anything we can do? Can we go after him?"

  She looked like she'd had about enough. Mom collapsed in the chair again, her voice barely a whisper. "Don't you think I've tried all that? He's gone, vanished."

  I sat down next to her, curling my fingers around her knee. It will be okay.

  "We'll find a way out of this."

  "No," she began, brushing my hand away. "There is no 'we'. This is my problem. I don't want any help from you. Do you understand? Anyway, even if you wanted to, how could you help? You don't even have a job right now."

  There was no point in pushing it. Christ, that was enough for one day. Between losing my job and now this, going to bed sounded like the safest plan.

  I leaned over to my mom and hugged her. "The job will sort itself out. I've got a call to make. Will you be okay for a while?"

  She nodded a sad smile in my direction. "Yes."

  I watched my mom get up and leave the room, looking at her in a new way. It's amazing how people can surprise you when you least expect it and not always in a good way. Lifting my phone up, I swiped it on.

  Griff's number popped up.

  I nibbled on my lip, hovering my finger over the call button.

  * * *

  Desperate times.

  The display flashed the choice I made.

  Calling… Hunk.

  Shut up.

  Not sure why, but the ringing sound seemed longer than normal. Instead of riiinng, it was more like riiiiiiiinnnnggg. Probably an extra second at least, maybe two.

  Anyway, it was enough time to make me question the decision again.

  How was he possibly going to be able to help? Seriously. He looked to be not much more than a part time ranch hand or a caretaker at the old Foster place.