The Billionaire's Homecoming

by Christina Tetreault

  “Good evening, Mr. Sherbrooke,” Dee said, looking up from the project she worked on. She picked up the receiver on the desk. “Carl’s in his office. I’ll let him know you are on your way down.”

  When he went into a battle, he liked to know what awaited him. Tonight, he felt as if he was about to walk into the worst firefight of his life. “Dee, who else is here?”

  Dee’s finger hovered over a button on the phone console. “Only Mr. Sherbrooke is with Carl.”

  Brett didn’t knock on the closed door. “What kind of situation are we dealing with?” he asked, walking inside.

  Carl and Dad paused in their conversation. They wore matching grim expressions when they looked his way. A collection of newspapers and file folders littered the conference table.

  “Good, you’re finally here. Have a seat,” Carl said. He picked up the remote control and muted the television. At the moment, a commercial was playing, but Brett had visited the office enough to know it was tuned to Carl’s favorite news network.

  “I assumed you knew the type of woman a potential senator should date. Evidently, I was mistaken,” Carl said.

  His grip on the chair tightened. It was the second time tonight someone had insinuated Jen wasn’t good enough for him. He’d had enough of it. “Get to the point.” Brett used the same tone with Carl as when he’d given orders to his men. He took the seat and looked from Dad to Carl when neither spoke up. “One of you talk. Now!”

  “Smith’s camp has uncovered some skeletons in Jen’s closet,” Dad answered. “They leaked them to the press today.”

  “Correction. They concocted some half-assed story about Jen and leaked it,” Brett said.

  Carl rolled his chair toward the opposite end of the table and grabbed a newspaper. “See for yourself.” He handed it over.

  The front page rather than the society section of the Boston Times featured a picture of them outside Peggy Sue’s Café. It wasn’t the picture or the fact it had been taken outside the café near his home that bothered Brett. It was the damn headline over it: Senatorial Candidate Brett Sherbrooke’s Judgment Called Into Question.

  His eyes drifted to the article beneath the picture, and he started to read. Nothing jumped out at him as anything more than the typical political mudslinging until he reached the fourth line. Daughter of a convicted felon, the sentence started. He shook his head and kept reading. The rest of the first few paragraphs detailed what a man named Dominic Russo had been convicted of and when. From there the story only went downhill at a breakneck pace. The last paragraph opened by stating that according to a relative, Jen had had her own run-in with the law, although it didn’t go into any specifics. The article closed with the reporter not-so-subtly calling both Brett’s judgment and integrity into question for associating with such a person.

  Absolute disgust rolled over him, and Brett tossed the paper down. Political campaigns got nasty. It was all part of the game. Pure bullshit like this was way out of line.

  “This story ran on every news station today and in all the papers,” Dad said. “Even the Star Insider featured it.”

  Great. Just what he needed, to be on that trashy gossip show. “None of it’s true.” He’d met Reggie Wallace. The guy was a retired Army vet who worked as an electrician. There was no chance in hell he was an ex-con who’d committed murder or any other crime.

  Carl leaned forward. “Brett, I know Phillip Young. He plays dirty and will stoop as low as he needs to assure his candidate wins.” He tapped the newspaper Brett tossed aside with his index finger. “He wouldn’t concoct a story like this when the facts are easy to verify.”

  “Carl’s right. Smith’s team wouldn’t make these claims if they hadn’t checked it out first. Information like this can be verified, and if it came back as fabricated, it’d backfire on them,” Dad said.

  He searched for another explanation because he couldn’t argue with Dad’s statement. “Then Smith’s team got Jen confused with someone who shares her name. I’m sure there is more than one Jennifer Wallace in the United States. This article refers to a Dominic Russo. I’ve met Jen’s parents, Reggie and Erica Wallace. I also know her brother, Keith, and sister, Kristen.” Hell, he’d even met Jen’s niece and brother-in-law.

  “Phillip and his team would’ve made sure they had the correct person before running with the story,” Carl said, shooting down Brett’s argument right away. “My working theory is that Jennifer is adopted and whoever you met are her adopted parents. I’ve got people looking into it as we speak. But whatever you know about her, you need to share with us now. We need to start doing some damage control before this really hurts you.”

  Brett raked both hands through his hair and then down his face. Carl had a point. Jen could be adopted. He’d noticed the lack of any resemblance between her and the rest of her family. He’d ignored it. Not everyone looked like copies of their parents. Besides, it wasn’t the type of question people usually asked each other, and she’d never mentioned it. “I don’t know if she’s adopted. It never came up,” he said, wishing he did know.

  “Like I said, I have people looking into her background as we speak,” Carl said.

  “Tell your people to hold off,” he said. Jen deserved better than Carl’s minions investigating her past. At the same time, Carl was right. The situation required a plan. “I’ll talk to her and get the truth.”

  “Brett, let my team keep working,” Carl said. “People lie to save their own skin. We have no way of knowing she won’t too.”

  He knew people who fit Carl’s description. “Not Jen. After I talk to her, I’ll contact you. Tell your people to stop immediately. I’ll get back to you tonight.”

  “I understand why you want to handle this yourself, but I suggest you reconsider. My team will be discreet and respectful. And remember time isn’t on our side. If we wait too long to respond, the media might assume you’re trying to hide something.”

  Damn it. Carl was right. “Fine let them keep looking, but don’t issues any statement without my approval.”

  “If my people uncover anything, I call you before taking any action,” Carl said.

  Carl’s voice let Brett just how much the campaign manager didn’t like Brett’s plan, but he also knew who wrote his paycheck.

  “As soon as I get some answers, Carl, I’ll call you. Before I go, is there anything else?” Brett asked. The sooner he got out of here the sooner he’d get some answers.

  When Carl shook his head, Brett stood.

  “I’ll walk out with you,” Dad said, coming to his feet too.

  Hell. He had enough going through his head without a lecture from his dad. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell him to back off.

  Dad waited until the elevator doors closed before speaking. “When this story proves true, what are you going to do?”

  “If, Dad. If it proves accurate.” Brett jabbed the button for the lobby.

  “Brett, you’ve been around politics enough to know what Carl said is true. Ted Smith’s team wouldn’t have leaked this information if it wasn’t at least partially true.” Dad gripped his shoulder. “I like Jen. So does your mom. But are you willing to potentially sacrifice the race and your political future for her?” he asked. “You don’t have to answer me. Just think about it and don’t make any decisions until you can answer the question.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jen spotted the news vans outside her house before she turned down her street. If they were out there, they’d bombard her the second she turned into the driveway. With a little luck, she might get into the garage and into the house. So far luck hadn’t been on her side today. A more likely scenario would be a reporter would plant himself in front of her garage, meaning she either had to run him over to get inside or park in the driveway then walk the gauntlet of reporters to get inside the house.

  Rather than chance it, she turned onto Hudson Street instead and parked in Anna and Billy’s driveway. Their backyard abutted hers. Since they were on vacatio
n, they wouldn’t mind if she left her car there for the night. Pushing open the gate, she entered Anna and Billy’s yard and crossed toward the gate in the fence, which would open into her yard. When she’d moved in, she’d found the extra gate an odd feature. Later, she’d learned she’d purchased her home from Billy’s twin brother. Since their children had loved playing together so much, they’d had the extra gate installed in the fence so the cousins could visit whenever they wanted without having to walk far. Tonight the unique feature allowed her to sneak into her house without alerting the vultures hanging around outside.

  “Hey, Bo.” As usual the dog greeted her in the kitchen. After giving him a scratch behind the ears, she let him out into the backyard.

  She’d been tempted to check the internet when the crowd gathered outside the office put a halt to her coffee run. She’d forced herself not to give in. Although she didn’t know what had the media so curious again, she sensed it wasn’t good. With two important meetings to get through, she needed her head in the game, not on whatever story the news was running. Jen had no good excuse for not checking now, other than she suspected she wasn’t going to like what she found.

  “Not looking isn’t going to change it,” she said, grabbing a diet root beer from the fridge.

  Jen let Bo back in the house before retreating to her bedroom. “Let’s see what the big story is.”

  The dog jumped on the bed next to her as she pulled up the Providence Gazette’s website. The headline staring back at her made her wish she hadn’t: Brett Sherbrooke’s Judgment Not All It Should Be.

  She didn’t need to read any further to know she wasn’t going to like what followed in the article below the rather nice picture of her and Brett outside Ambrosia Pastry Shop and Café. Jen forced her eyes to scan the words anyway.

  Jen read the first paragraph and stopped. Dropping her head in her hands, she tried to breathe as her stomach rolled. Dominic Russo. The name hadn’t crossed her mind in a long time. How had they found out about him? As far as she knew, he was still rotting in a South Carolina prison.

  She forced her head up and continued reading the article. It claimed, according to a relative, she’d had a run-in with the law herself. While the statement about her biological father was true, this part of the story sensationalized what had really happened all those years ago. Since the article had the facts straight about her biological father, would anyone believe her when she set the record straight on the rest?

  Even though Jen knew she’d find similar articles on the other news sites, she typed in the web address for the Boston Times. Senatorial Candidate Brett Sherbrooke’s Judgment Called Into Question, the headline on the site read. Although written by a different reporter, the article attached to the headline read similar to the one the Providence Gazette had published. She didn’t look any farther. Instead, she closed the laptop and fell back on the bed.

  The media was calling Brett’s judgment and integrity into question? He was the most upstanding individual she’d ever met. The media shouldn’t be holding her biological father’s poor decisions against Brett, especially when he didn’t even know the man existed.

  Jen covered her face with her hands and groaned. His association with her could cost him the election, maybe even kill any chance he’d ever make it in politics. It wasn’t fair. Especially considering the type of man he was running against. From the little she’d learned about Ted Smith, the man was an adulterer who made questionable business deals. A person with such low moral standards didn’t have any place making decisions that would affect the country.

  Bo nudged her hand, demanding her attention. Reaching over, she scratched the dog just below the collar, one of his favorite spots. “Do you think he hates me?”

  She’d never lied to Brett. She’d introduced him to Reggie Wallace, the man she considered her father. Dominic Russo was simply someone she shared DNA with, nothing more. Would Brett see it that way? Or would he think she’d been trying to hide her true past from him? And if he did, what would he do?

  Actually, even if he understood why she never mentioned she was adopted, Brett might not want anything else to do with her. She didn’t like it, but she realized there might only be one way for him to salvage his campaign, and more importantly his reputation. His family was probably already suggesting he end their relationship. She’d found both his parents, as well as the rest of his family, to be friendly and kind, but the Sherbrookes had an image to maintain. They wouldn’t want one of their own dating a woman whose father had committed armed robbery and murder.

  Jen moved into an upright position. “I better prepare myself now,” she said to Bo. When Brett ended things, she wouldn’t beg and plead with him to reconsider. Even though it would hurt like hell, she’d maintain her dignity. She’d reserve all her crying for the nights when she was alone.

  Brett had said he’d call tonight, but considering this disaster, maybe she should try calling him now. She reached for her cell phone, but before she could bring up Brett’s contact information, the phone rang and her mom’s name appeared on the screen.

  Something told her this call would only be the first in a long string of others.

  ***

  “Answer the damn phone.” Brett paced from one end of the room to the other. Despite his command, the ringing stopped and Jen’s voice mail came on. He’d wanted to call her the second he left Carl’s office. He’d decided to wait. When they discussed the details of the article, he wanted Jen to have his full attention. He couldn’t give her that if he was driving.

  Suspecting there would be a media circus around his house, he’d gone straight from Carl’s office to his brother’s condo in Boston. Although the place was currently on the market, he knew Curt wouldn’t mind if he used it for the night. He’d arrived there ten minutes ago and had been calling her ever since. So far she hadn’t answered his calls or the two text messages he sent her. She was expecting his call, so why wasn’t she answering or at least sending him back a text message? By now she’d seen the articles circulating. Even if she hadn’t, someone she knew would’ve and alerted her to them. Was she avoiding him or had something happened to her? People got into accidents all the time driving to and from work. He’d seen one tonight on his way to Carl’s office. If she was lying in a hospital bed, or worse, a morgue, she’d have no way of answering her phone and her family would have no easy way of contacting him. He couldn’t call them either. He didn’t have their phone numbers. Getting them might be possible.

  Brett knew Kristen’s address but unfortunately not her full name. Finding a cell phone number without a name would be difficult, at least for him. One of Carl’s people could probably find it with even less information, but he had no intention of getting Carl’s contacts involved with this too. He’d have to see if he could find either her mom’s cell or home number instead.

  He typed in the name Erica Wallace first. When all he got was an address and a list of possible relatives, he typed Reggie Wallace into the site. Once again, the website came back with only an address and a list of possible relatives. Apparently Jen’s parents, like so many other people these days, didn’t have a landline, and finding cell phone numbers was more difficult than he’d expected.

  Frustrated, he closed the laptop and tried Jen again. Like all his previous calls, it rang before going to voice mail. Although he’d left her several already, Brett left another message asking her to call him right away.

  Brett dropped the cell phone next to the computer and considered his options. He could sit and wait for her to call back. If she was avoiding him, who knew when she might do that. And if she was injured and unable to call him, it might be days before Jen or someone in her family found a way to contact him. He knew her brother Keith worked for Elite Force Security these days. He might be able to reach him by calling the firm. It wasn’t a guarantee, especially this late.

  Waiting much longer to talk to her was out. He needed to know she was okay, and he needed answers. Brett checked hi
s watch. It was already after eight o’clock. Leaving now, he’d get there around nine. Jen should still be awake, but they’d been up late last night working on the speech he’d given this morning. She might have called it a day and gone to bed already. If she had, he’d hate to disturb her. Unfortunately, he didn’t see he had any choice tonight.

  Brett pulled out of the parking garage and tried her number again. It rang several times before Jen’s voice came through the car’s speakers.

  “Thank God you answered. I’ve been calling you,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I think half the people on the planet have called me since I got home and turned my phone’s ringer back on,” Jen said, sounding frazzled. “I just hung up with Kristen and was about to call you.”

  Well at least she wasn’t trying to avoid him.

  “We need to talk. I’m on my way to your house now,” Brett said.

  “There are a few news vans outside. Most have left; I think they assumed I wasn’t coming home tonight or something. Maybe the others will leave soon too. If they are still there when you get here, drive over to 8 Hudson Street. My neighbors are on vacation, and that’s where I parked. There is a gate in the fence, and it will bring you right into my backyard.”

  He wasn’t surprised the media was camped outside her house. “Will do. See you soon.”

  From the corner of her street, he saw the two news vans parked across from her house. Brett turned the corner and parked in her neighbors’ driveway behind Jen’s car. He followed her instructions and used the gate in the fence to enter her backyard. He immediately noticed there was no light coming through the downstairs windows suggesting she remained upstairs with her blinds drawn so the media out front didn’t know she was home.

  The motion lights went on as he approached the back steps, and he knocked on the door. Bo’s barking reached him through the door. Thanks to the outside lights, he saw the blinds on a nearby window move, and Jen peek out soon after. She opened the door a moment later.