BABY ROYAL

by Bella Grant

Back at the house, I sat for a long time on the bowl and stared at the pink box in my hand—plus sign for positive, and minus for negative. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to see. Maybe this baby would actually make us a real family, and Raymond would see me as more than the woman in the other room. Or, maybe it would drive us apart when he realized he didn’t need me anymore. My heart pounded after that last thought, and my hand shook as I slowly delivered my sample to the apparatus I still held. I didn’t look away, watching like I was awaiting my execution—with anxiety and fright. My heart leapt when I saw the plus slowly form in the background.

  The rest of my day was a nightmare as I tried to contain the stupid thoughts that raged like a flood. One after another, I thought about the worst possible things that could happen once I told Raymond about the baby. My life had been a series of unfortunate happenings, and this marriage was a manipulative attempt to change that. But would it catch up with me?

  If I thought I was acting like a raging lunatic before, I was wrong. As soon as I was aware that Raymond was home, my palms got clammy, my breathing shallowed, and my head felt a thousand pounds lighter, like it was devoid of a brain.

  What do I say? How do I say it? What will he say?

  The one thing glaring at my consciousness was that I had to tell him, and the sooner the better. I couldn’t walk around for days like this. I stayed locked away in my room, not wanting to run into him before I was ready to talk. I was surprised I didn’t get that familiar knock—he often would when he got home. Or maybe he was checking the pool house.

  I got up slowly and sucked in a lungful of air before walking towards what felt like my impending doom. He wasn’t in his room, nor was he in the pool house. Just my luck. The one time I wanted to see him, he was missing. I decided to try the study. I heard his voice before I got there and became a basket case again. With slow, unsure steps, I proceeded and was inches away, my hands extended to knock, when I realized the door was cracked and I heard my name.

  “…Anna? Nothing like that,” I heard him say playfully.

  I waited, curiosity getting the better of me.

  “Come on.” He chuckled. “Stop calling her that!” Pause. “Can every woman who has a child be called a mother? Take mine for example.” Pause, then laughter. “Yeah, sort of, but you still can’t really call her my wife. I mean, she is here, we fuck, we go out… doesn’t necessarily spell wife.”

  My eyes bulged when I heard the words I never thought I would.

  “Well, we’ll see about that,” he said, and I heard the distinct sound of the phone hitting the cradle.

  I wanted to move, but I was frozen—all but the tears that trickled down my face. I heard the chair scrape, like he was about to move, and I found my legs. I hurried away, my head low as I clawed my way to my room, navigating steps that seemed to shift when viewed through misty eyes, weighed down by a heavy, broken heart.

  Anna

  I felt like crap when I hung up the phone. I acted like I didn’t want anyone to know I was falling in love with this woman I hardly knew. Peter, my closest acquaintance, who, to all intents and purposes, could be referred to as my friend, wanted me to find out more about her. I tried to blow it off by shielding myself behind a pretense of bravado. But because he had mentioned it, my overactive mind quickly became curious. And it all made sense. I hadn’t met her family—not one in almost three months. I didn’t know anything about her, and although she’d said she owned a fashion business and dabbled in real estate, I wasn’t aware of her going to work.

  I had questioned Joshua, but the only places he had gone with her were the mall or other miscellaneous places such as the spa or the country club. The last one had been under my recommendation, which meant she was mostly home. Did she even have relatives? Well, she had to come from somewhere. Did it matter where she came from?

  My buzzing mind kept me in my own room that night, and as soon as I awoke the following morning, I rushed out and headed to the office. I felt like a jerk, sneaking around like that, but I’d had this gnawing feeling since Peter drummed those doubts into my head. I wanted to find out the truth about Anna which was harder than I expected. Internet searches revealed nothing. Several phone calls came up empty. No one knew her, as if she was an imaginary person—someone who had suddenly sprang to life and landed in my world.

  “I told you there was something wrong with her,” Peter added later that day. “I mean, even criminals aren’t so hard to find.”

  “This is ridiculous, Peter. She had to come from somewhere,” I insisted.

  “I agree,” he continued. “But it’s obvious she isn’t what she claims to be. Tell me, what fashion business does she own? Have you checked?”

  I was ashamed to answer. I had always prided myself on being astute and diligent in my affairs, marriage or otherwise, but Anna had blindsided me. One look at those brown eyes and flaming red hair had left me crumpled on the floor like trash. She had won me over from the beginning, and I hadn’t bothered to check the rest. I was afraid of what I might find, and my fear was evident in how my heart thundered as Peter spoke.

  “I haven’t. But I’ve seen her with her chalk and easel…” I sounded stupid even to myself when the words left my lips.

  Peter laughed robustly, and the phone vibrated against my ear. “I can’t believe you got played by a chick. You need to get out more.”

  It still didn’t make sense. Even if she had tricked me into marrying her, what did she benefit from it? She hardly left the house, and I had to practically force her to spend the money I gave her.

  “I’m not going to toss her out because something doesn’t smell right,” I protested.

  Peter was quiet for a moment. “Why don’t you hire a private investigator? She must be hiding something from you.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. Man, I must be getting old, or had she gotten that much under my skin? “I just might do that.”

  That day, I called an old family acquaintance. Bruce was the best at what he did, and he took on the case without a second thought.

  “Pretty girl.” He whistled. “I can’t imagine her doing anything bad. But then, that’s how they usually look, don’t they?” He stuck a piece of tobacco into his mouth and started chewing. He stared at the picture a while longer and nodded. “I’ll get back to you in a few days. If there’s anything shady about this redhead, I’ll find it.

  He shrugged into his coat, pulled the collar up, and was gone. I sat in my chair long after he left and way past five. I wasn’t looking forward to going home. I was too busy trying to come up with what Bruce might find. He was very good at his job, and in my circle, he was hired for all sorts of work, from a bounty hunting to spying on cheating wives and husbands. He never returned empty-handed. Which scared me. I wasn’t ready for what he would bring.

  By the time I got home, it was past eight. I knew Anna would be in her room, and I crept into mine, trying not to get her attention. It was a wasted effort. She was waiting for me in the darkness of my domain.

  “Hi,” she said when I came in.

  She knocked the wind right out of my lungs. “Hi,” I replied in an almost squeaky voice. Why the hell did I feel like I was sneaking around when I was damn well entitled to know if the woman I had married was a fake?

  “What are you doing in here?”

  She didn’t say anything. She simply twiddled her thumbs and stared at me through eyes I didn’t recognize—they looked even more ominous as she sat on the ottoman, glowering at me.

  “I waited for you at dinner, but you didn’t show. Long day at work?”

  She had never asked questions like this before, and I got flashes of movies I’d seen where people changed their identities after they had committed some heinous crime in another country. Her profile could have been set to allure me, pull me into her spider web, where she planned on…I didn’t even want to think about it. I merely hoped Bruce would come back with something soon.

  I inhaled deeply before answering. “Yeah. One
meeting after another. I’m about ready to grab a quick shower and crawl into bed. You okay?”

  Not exactly the kind of conversation a married couple would be having—not in those tones anyway.

  “I’m fine. Listen, Raymond…” She paused.

  I cocked my head to the side and waited for her to continue. “Yes?”

  She looked at me through frightened eyes, and I saw something else there too. It felt like she wanted me to say something, or do something, but I didn’t know what. And after the day I’d had, I wasn’t in the mood to share my room with her.

  “It’s okay,” she said and stood. Her eyes glistened, and she looked down as she left the room. I didn’t know if I should be relieved or angry at myself. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but until I knew more, it would be better if I stayed away from her. I’d explain later or find an excuse for it.

  A few days passed with no word from Bruce. I got even more concerned until one Saturday I was in my home office and my phone rang.

  “Bruce!” I answered anxiously and hurried to close the door so I could gain more privacy. “What did you find?” There was no question he had found something.

  “Are you around a computer?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied hastily, sweat beads springing up on my forehead.

  “Check your email.”

  I already had the tab open, and I opened my inbox on the screen and saw his message. I clicked gingerly on the message and opened the attachment. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. There were photos of an old dilapidated building on Water Street sporting a sign hanging from the front that was barely visible.

  “What is this?” I asked him.

  “Keep looking,” he advised.

  Other photos showed a woman entering the building, her scarf pulled down over her face to appear inconspicuous. A few more showed her coming out again, and the face was unmistakable. It was Anna.

  “I don’t know what this is saying,” I replied in a confused tone. “What is this?”

  “I saw your redhead going into this building—a shelter for the homeless—more than once. On the second visit, I went in after her and asked a few questions. Turns out she has a sister and a mother who live there. Until some months ago when she got a job as a housekeeper with the Sampsons, that’s where she lived too. And get this, her last name isn’t even Bolton. It’s Ramsey.”

  I heard what Bruce was saying, but it had not yet taken root in my less than receptive mind. What he was saying was that my wife—the woman who’d told me she owned a fashion business and made real estate investments, the woman who was supposed to be a socialite—was nothing more than a poor girl.

  “No, no, you must have it wrong. Maybe she’s running a charity mission there. Maybe she is trying to help them with—”

  “If she’s trying to help anyone, Raymond, it’s herself. The girl left her mother and sick sister in a shelter and married you. You were her ticket out of there.”

  This cannot be happening!

  Although I had only wanted a mail-order bride to have my children and go out in public with me, I’d had a specific woman in mind. How could I have been so stupid! So many times I thought about digging into her background, and each time I had been distracted, or I’d forgotten about it. I let her beauty entrance me, and I thought, several times, what could possibly be so bad about a face like that? I had seen Bolton Enterprises and Bolton Real Estate Zone and assumed she was a part of either. Or one of the other Boltons I’d seen who I knew came from money. She wasn’t even a Bolton, but a Ramsey!

  I felt like an idiot thinking about the day at the Regent, how all the other women there had seen how different she was. Marissa had warned me several times that something was off about her, and I had seen glimpses of it, too. But I didn’t want to believe. I thought she had been forced into this like I was, and that maybe she was recently estranged from her wealthy family so she had to find a rich man. That, I could live with. But I didn’t know how to be with a poor girl who pretended to be rich simply to land a rich man.

  I was heaving by the time Bruce hung up, and I sank into the chair as I stared at the computer screen, the images taking an even more ominous appearance. I rapped my knuckles on the desk, and as the rage swelled in me, I made one sweeping motion and cleared most of the items off my desk. I chucked the chair back and it slammed into the wall.

  I didn’t need to think about what had to happen next. Anna Bolton – Ramsey – or whatever the hell her name is, would go back to her shelter for the homeless. Everything I had felt for her before was vehemently swept under the proverbial rug, and I felt nothing but disgust. I had been sleeping with a…a… I couldn’t even bring myself to think about it again. And when my mother heard about it… that was another embarrassment for another time. But I had to get her out of my house and hope that no one found out why. I could always find another bride, and next time around, I would be much more diligent.

  I went back to the chair and sat, allowing my temper to cool before I went searching for her. I was happy she hadn’t gotten pregnant, and I inwardly applauded my keeping away from her for so many weeks. But I had barely escaped because we had been getting close over the last few days.

  I was still mulling over the news and what I had to do next when the door opened with a loud bang and the devil herself stood in front of me, fuming as her eyes flashed fury, an even match to her flaming hair. I scowled, pressed my fingers down into the solid wood desk, and felt the pressure build up in my fingertips as I rose to meet the beast I now despised.

  Chapter Fifteen (Anna)

  I’m not doing this. No fuckin’ way! Not even for a billion dollars. It was impossible to live with Raymond when I knew how he viewed me. I was nothing but a contract, and even after two months and then some, after nights of making love, I was nothing more to him. I had no reason to believe he would want me after I had his child. I had fallen for him, head over heels, and I couldn’t stay knowing he didn’t feel the same way.

  The tears blinded me as I stuffed my clothes in a carryon I could manage to walk with. I had no idea where to go. Maybe Henrietta could ask her mother to give me a job. My heart ached as I thought about it, and I felt an enormous weight burden my chest. I was hyperventilating as I angrily crammed the smaller items I thought would fit—underwear, shirts, shorts, summer dresses—if he would let me leave with anything.

  But secretly, I hoped I was wrong.

  I looked at the tightly packed luggage, feeling anxious about what I had to do. I knew he was down in the study because I had checked. All that was left was for me to go down and confront him. The more I thought about doing it, the angrier I felt. I could understand if he had always been aloof, but to come onto me, to use me like he did—that was disgusting, and it made me sick to my stomach. I might be poor, but I had my pride.

  I left the luggage in the room and headed for the study. I didn’t hesitate and pushed the door in, harder than I thought, and it banged against the wall.

  “What the hell do you want from me, Raymond?” I asked before I saw the paraphernalia on the floor and his equally angry face.

  “What do I want?” he snarled and pulled his chair closer to the desk.

  “Yes!” I would not back down from this, no matter how much money and power he might have. “One minute you want me, another minute I’m nothing but a contract! I heard you talking on the phone, so don’t even try to deny it. This could’ve worked. I don’t know why you feel like you had to prete—”

  “Pretend!” He cut me off, and his eyes sliced right through me. He grabbed the computer monitor and turned it around to face me. “You talk about pretending? Tell me what I’m looking at here.”

  The lump formed in my throat immediately. I didn’t expect to see a picture of the shelter, nor of my image as I left it. I felt woozy, and I rocked back against the wall for support. He had been following me after all, and I hadn’t been careful enough. I could hear Mom’s warning voice in my head, and my knees buckl
ed under me. I gripped the arm of the chair to steady myself.

  He folded his arms. “Anything? I thought you had more to say, Anna Bolton,” I emphasized.

  I gulped. He knew. “Raymond, I can explain,” I mumbled.

  “I’m sure you can,” he sneered. “But I don’t care. Whatever you have here is yours to take. Be gone by tomorrow.” He walked out.

  I was tempted to tell him about the baby, hopefully to change his mind about throwing me out. Before, it had been my choice, but now that I no longer had one, it hurt even more. The tears rolled down my cheeks as the image on the screen burned into my mind. My hands moved on their own accord and clutched my abdomen. I had our baby growing inside me… what would he do if he knew? Would he take the child away from me and send me packing? How would I care for a baby without his money? I didn’t have any of my own. Maybe if I explained…

  I chased after him and caught him as he entered the garden. “Raymond, wait…”

  He stood next to the fountain, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts. He didn’t move, nor did he look at me. But I knew he could hear me.

  “Look, I didn’t mean to… this was not how I expected this to turn out. I…” I didn’t know what to say. I knew what I should say, but no matter how I said it, it wouldn’t come out right.

  “I know how you hoped it would. What? You thought you could just waltz in here, make a killing, and move on?” He turned and his eyes were ablaze with anger.

  “No, that’s not it. It’s just that…my mom is sick, and my sister too, and I thought that if I found a man…” This wasn’t coming out so good.

  “Yeah. That’s what I thought—find an idiot to take care of you and your poor, sick family. What made you think I wouldn’t find out? What do you think would have happened when I did? That I would want you still? What the hell would I be doing with a…a girl like you?” His hands swept the length of my body and made me feel like less than trash.

  “That’s not how you felt when your hands were all over this body,” I cried as my chest burned.