FRAUD: A Romantic Suspense Novel

by R. C. Stephens

  When he finished eating, I swallowed hard and told myself it was necessary, I had to be brave. I also told myself I had to corner him or else he’d create some lie that would redirect our conversation, and I would not be better off.

  “Can we talk?” I asked.

  “Sure.” His smile grew slowly, and he came over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his nose against mine.

  Crap!

  “Uh, not that kind of talking.” I squirmed away from his touch but held the smile on my face.

  “Oh.” He tucked his hands into his pockets.

  “I need to talk to you about your father,” I said and held my breath.

  Mark rolled his eyes at me and increased the distance between us. “Not again, Nat.” He was irritated not mad, yet.

  “Just hear me out.”

  “No.” He turned to leave the kitchen.

  “Mark, wait,” I shout-whispered, not wanting to wake the kids. “I saw your father in New

  York.”

  That got his attention. He walked back up to me. “Excuse me?” His brows furrowed together, and his gaze narrowed on me.

  “I saw your father this past weekend,” I repeated, holding my head level, deciding this was happening and I wouldn’t back down. Writing A Birthday Wish had helped me see the error in my ways where Mark was concerned. Old habits died hard, but I was determined to break them. I didn’t know what I hated more, the lies or him pulling away from me. Our relationship was sick. Every time I read A Birthday Wish I understood more and more how dysfunctional we were.

  “Where?” He gave me a confused look.

  I would have to divulge the truth about seeing Hayes in order to reveal the details. He

  was going to flip.

  “I volunteered at a soup kitchen on the Thursday night . . .” I began.

  His face scrunched. “What? You went for a signing. How did you end up in a soup kitchen?”

  “You remember Shay’s cousin, Hayes? He gave me a ride from the airport to the hotel, and I was hungry so we were going to grab a bite to eat, and he volunteers at the soup kitchen every week . . .” I was mumbling. Speaking of Hayes made me nervous.

  “You’re in touch with that guy?” His face scrunched up with disgust, and I felt his underlying anger simmer to the surface.

  “Huh? What? No. Immy told him I was flying in on my own. He only gave me a ride and a quick dinner.” Lie. “It was nothing.” Another lie.

  The tension melted off him, and he nodded, seeming to accept my explanation. I suddenly felt no better than my husband.

  “There was a man at the soup kitchen. Hayes introduced him as Fernando,” I said, and my heartbeat quickened. “Somehow it came up that his last name was Lopez and well . . . I know I haven’t seen your father in years. This man wasn’t well mentally, and he was dirty but honestly he looked like your father.” I walked over to the picture on the media console and showed it to Mark. “I know it was him.”

  Mark ran his fingers through his hair and tugged. “For fucksakes, Nat. That’s crazy. I told you my father was back home.” Why was he insisting on the lie?

  “Come here.” I took a seat on the couch and motioned for him to sit beside me. He did.

  “I’m trying to hold on to this marriage. I’m not the enemy. I want to help you or be there for you,” I began.

  “But that’s just it. I don’t need help. There is nothing wrong.” He was so damn convincing sometimes.

  “Mark, your sister drowned at a young age. You were in the water with your dad when she died.” I hated dredging up the story, but I hoped for a breakthrough.

  He hissed.

  I pushed forward. “You were taught to hide what you were feeling because your family was scared that there would be legal action taken against your father concerning Consuelo’s death.”

  “This is fucking crazy.” He shot to his feet and began to pace.

  “The man I saw in New York wasn’t well. He had multiple personalities. Hayes heard the man talking about a drowning and a girl,” I continued because this façade or whatever it was that Mark had built around him had to end.

  His gaze cut to mine as I said those words, and his eyes narrowed. “Do you know how crazy this is? We were finally getting along. Why do you have to go and mess shit up?”

  “Excuse me?” I was shocked. “I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to be a supportive wife.”

  He deflated at my last words and walked toward me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Maybe my childhood wasn’t as perfect as I let on.” He gave me a small smile. “But don’t let your imagination run wild with you. My life wasn’t that interesting. Yes, maybe there are some things I haven’t shared. I want to share them with you, but I need time. It isn’t something I can come right out and say. I need to think.” He gave me a smile that looked more like a frown. He was too calm, too cordial, and too understanding, but I had to accept it.

  “Okay, I can give you time and space.” I returned the smile.

  “Thank you.” He reached out and hugged me fiercely. I didn’t know what to make of his odd behavior, but then again he promised answers. Finally.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Natalia

  The next day at work I felt a little dazed. After our last patient left the room my dad gazed at me with furrowed brows. “I know you don’t like me meddling in your life, but I am your father and you’ve been off for some time now. What’s going on?” he asked, his concern for me transparent. I recalled my conversation with Immy about talking about the past and what happened when my family fell apart.

  “I don’t think we have time. You have another patient now,” I said, because the thought of putting things on the table caused my anxiety to bubble. It was a cop-out. When would I stop hiding?

  “Fine.” He walked to the wall phone and asked the secretary if he had any large openings in his schedule today. “Good. Thank you, Vanessa,” he said.

  He had replaced Rosabell’s mother after they married five years ago. I wondered if she worried about my dad cheating with the new one. She was young and pretty. “I have an hour at two fifteen,” my father said curtly.

  I appreciated that he wanted to talk to me during work hours, since I picked the kids up from their after-school program by five o’clock. It was time to face that reality too. “That’s perfect.” I smiled.

  Two fifteen arrived too fast. “How about we grab that coffee?” Dad suggested.

  I was wearing my animal print scrubs so I didn’t like wandering the streets, but I agreed to go to the coffee shop around the corner from the office, since our employees often drank coffee there, and they were used to our work outfits.

  “Okay.” Dad hung his white coat in a closet, and we headed into the warm, sunny day. I squinted against the sun.

  “What’s going on?” he asked as he held the door to the coffee shop open for me.

  “I wanted to ask you about Rosabell’s mother,” I said hesitantly, holding my breath. What if Dad didn’t want to talk about her. It was almost as if I expected him to snap at me for my intrusion into his privacy.

  His lips turned down. He wasn’t angry; he looked a little sad. “You can say her name, Lia.” He called me by the nickname he used for me as a child, his tone chiding. I shrugged. He had a point. “Okay, what is it you want to know?” He blew out a breath. He didn’t seem nervous or apprehensive at all.

  “I want to know why you cheated,” I said straight out, although my face scrunched as remorse oozed over me like a thick coat of honey.

  My father cleared his throat. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Sorry. I just . . . we never spoke about it. I mean, ever. When it happened things with Matt was still so fresh in our minds and hearts. Then I went away and you and Mom went on with your lives, and lately I’ve felt like I never had closure.”

  “I understand.” My father nodded.

  “You do?” My eyebrows raised.

  He chuckled. “I do.” We ord
ered our coffees and took a seat at a table.

  “I don’t want you to think I’m putting your mom down,” he began, “but you know your mother, Lia. She was always a workaholic. Her job required many hours out of the house. Over the years her success grew, and with that she had less time for our family.”

  “You mean less time for you,” I interrupted then winced. “Sorry.”

  “No. You’re right. I was working hard, trying to build my practice, and our lives went in different directions.” He paused, and the look on his face changed, it became remorseful. “I know I wasn’t the best father to you and Matt. Your mom and I had our priorities mixed up, that’s for sure. Your brother died, and . . . well, my life came crashing down on me. I blamed myself for his death.”

  “Dad.” My hand came up and gave his a squeeze and my heart ached. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

  “How could I not? Matt wasn’t well, and we didn’t do enough for him. I will always carry that guilt.” I couldn’t argue with that because I held the same resentment inside me for the way my parents neglected to save Matt, even though he might not have been able to be saved. The illness might have taken him even if my parents had been attentive.

  My eyes swelled at the mention of my brother. “And Rosabell’s mother?” I asked, knowing it was awful I wouldn’t call her by name. Her name was Anna. It should have been easy.

  “My life spiraled out of control after Matt died. Instead of your mother and me consoling each other, we went in opposite directions. In hindsight it makes sense. We weren’t close, so why would we be there to support one another after a tragedy?” He shrugged his shoulders and his eyes glistened. I couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been for my father. He was an absent parent, but he loved us. He had been there for us more than mom had, but not nearly as much as we needed.

  “I’m sorry, Dad.” I shook my head, my heart heavy.

  “I made mistakes I have to live with. I know it’s why you and I aren’t close. I was lonely and hurting, and Anna was there for me during those dark times. Your mother wasn’t, and I know that’s no excuse. My behavior was wrong. I don’t condone it. All I’m saying is, I guess I’m human and I was broken, and honestly your mom and I are much happier apart.” He was right. Mom was happy with Desmond and didn’t work nearly as much, but then again those years of blood and sweat made her the head of her own company, and she had people to do the dirty work now. But at what cost? I couldn’t remain hung up on the past, but it was the past that formed me into the person I was today.

  “What’s going on, Lia?” my father asked pointedly.

  “Mark and I are having problems,” I confessed, and those words hurt. Admitting defeat was hard.

  “You mean monetary problems.”

  “Well, there’s that too.” I laughed sadly then shook my head. “No. We’re having marital problems, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want my family to fall apart.”

  “You’re a much better parent than I ever was. Lily and Liam are lucky. Whatever you choose, I know you have their best interest at heart.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled and sighed. Those words boosted my wounded self-esteem.

  “It’s true, but if you need help, I’m here. I don’t know exactly what to do,” he admitted.

  “You’ve been great, Dad. You’ve given me a job, and you’re overpaying me . . . I appreciate it more than you can know.” I gave his shoulder a squeeze.

  His lips pressed together in a thin smile. “It’s the least I can do. If there’s anything else, please let me know,” he said sincerely.

  I didn’t know if now was the right time to bring it up, but I thought what the hell. “I’m thinking about going back to school. To become a veterinarian,” I said and watched as my father’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights.

  “Really?” He didn’t hold back his excitement. “I see how you are when you care for the animals. You were always passionate about it. I feel like maybe I should’ve done more to ensure you stayed in school.”

  I shook my head. “That was on me. It wouldn’t have mattered what you said. My mind was set on marriage, not school.”

  “And now? What changed?”

  “I really enjoyed writing A Birthday Wish, but it was a one-time deal, and it helped us pay off a lot of debt.” Like my husbands excessive credit card bills and a second mortgage on our home. I cringed from those thoughts. Of course I would never share details like that with Dad. I’d be scared and embarrassed by his reaction. “I don’t think I want to continue writing, and I need a steady job to make real money. I’m sick of living pay check to pay check. I’m sick of debt. Even with the book sales, we are so far behind it’s hard to catch up.”

  “You know I’d be happy to foot the bill for school.” He smiled, and it was endearing. Relief washed over me when he didn’t call me out on where all the book money had gone.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that so much. I’m not ready yet. I want to keep the option of school open, because it’s been one of my biggest regrets.”

  “I understand.” I guess we both understood regret. He stared at me with warm eyes, circled in wrinkles. “I don’t want you living with regrets. I know what that’s like.” His lips turned down. He quickly gazed at his wristwatch. “Sorry to cut this short, but we have more appointments.”

  We left the coffee shop. “You think you’ll bring the kids over for Christmas this year?” His voice filled with hope and fear; I didn’t have it in me to say no.

  “We’re going to Immy and Shay’s Christmas Eve and Mom’s Christmas morning, but I think we can definitely swing by midday.”

  Dad’s blue eyes sparkled. “That would be really great. Anna is going to love this,” he said. I tried hard not to cringe at the mention of the stepmother I never acknowledged. I now realized how unfair I’d been to Dad.

  Life was filled with grey areas, and as I thought of our Christmas plans I remembered Hayes would be at Immy’s, and my heart picked up speed. He was one grey area I didn’t know how to broach. It was going to be one hell of a Christmas.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Natalia

  A week before Christmas

  I set the alarm a little late since I didn’t plan on going to work. I figured it wouldn’t be so bad if the kids were a little late for school, just so I could squeeze in some extra sleep before Mark and I headed to South Beach to spend the day for our anniversary. It was pathetic, but I was still fighting for my marriage. Mark had faced trauma as a child, and it had an affect on his adult life. I couldn’t turn my back on him. My dad surprised me with a night at one of the fancy hotels, because he thought Mark and I could use some alone time. Mark didn’t know about the surprise.

  I blindly swiped a hand over the alarm clock, wanting to steal another ten minutes in bed before I embarked on the morning rush with the kids. My eyes fluttered open and closed a few times as I shifted on the bed toward Mark’s side, patting my hand along the cool sheet. Wait. What? My eyes shot open, and I jolted up to a seated position; my guts clenched as I told myself he had woken and was in the bathroom, only our bathroom door was open and it was vacant. I knew better. Here I was, reaching out to hug my husband, and he wasn’t in bed with me; he was gone. Still a glutton for punishment, I walked through the house in search of him, knowing he wasn’t home. He fucking left for work.

  I hadn’t told him about our surprise night in South Beach yet, but I mentioned to him last week to keep the day open and not book any appointments. He said he would keep it in mind. The way he responded had put me off. I didn’t exactly tell him to take the day off for our anniversary. I only mentioned to him that I wanted us to spend the day together, and if he could keep Thursday open. I assumed he would remember our anniversary.

  The sting of venom coursed through my veins, slowly running through my body and sucking any happiness out of me. I held back tears, not wanting my children to see me sad.

  I dressed them on autopilot. Went back to my room to pull my o
ld wetsuit out of a box buried in my closet. I slipped on a bikini and pair of jogging pants along with a T-shirt since a December chill was in the air. I set breakfast up on the kitchen table with cereal and milk, then I trudged to the garage to find my old surfboard, buried under a heap of old kids’ toys covered in cobwebs. Empty and cold, my mind spun as I dusted off my old surfboard and strapped it to the roof of my car. The kids were definitely late for school, but I wasn’t in a rush. A blanket of disappointment clung to me, making me feel like I was living in a bubble of sadness. The kids ate their breakfast and got their running shoes on while I quickly prepared sandwiches for lunch. I was on autopilot as I carted them off to school. Then I went straight to the beach. No coffee to wake me up, no food to fill my empty belly. Slipping on my wetsuit and cleaning my board next to the shore brought back sad memories, and my life seemed bleak, black. The board needed a good waxing to fix it up, but I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was head for the water, catch a wave, and fly.

  I took a sharp intake of breath as my feet padded along the shore and the water touched my bare feet. The brisk wind meant waves would be a little higher today, a little fiercer, and that was exactly what I was looking for. Despite the chilled water, I pushed forward. As the water got deeper, I hopped on the board on my stomach and used my hands to paddle until I caught the first wave. I only stood up briefly before losing my balance and succumbing to the first few waves. I was out of practice. When I finally caught a wave, adrenaline surged through my body, making my heart pump rapidly. For the first time since I opened my eyes this morning, I truly felt alive. Visions of my brother surfing flashed through my mind. Maybe Matt had felt the same way. Free, happy, alive when he was surfing. He had a hard time getting up in the morning. Dad would be on his case about being lazy and needing to get out of bed, but it was the depression that held him there. I rode the wave to shore and went right back out, despite my chattering lips. The wetsuit did its job. I wanted to run after the high catching another wave brought. This wave was larger, and a smile broke through my darkness as I moved as one with the water. Before I could follow the wave, it curled, and I lost my balance, falling into the water. The wave crashed hard, and an undercurrent pushed me down as I fought to kick upward against the current, my lungs screaming for air. When I broke through the surface, I gasped for oxygen. A different type of adrenaline spiked my veins, this one reeking of danger. Another wave rolled over me and my head dipped under water for a moment, I stayed under, my breath held, eyes open, looking at the ocean around me, big and forceful. I had no control here. That’s when I thought of Hayes . . . I thought about his mother killing herself shortly after he turned eighteen. I felt like a knife stabbed my heart as I thought of my own children living without me. I shot through the surface, gasping for air. Grabbing my board, I walked out of the water, my chest heaving and burning.