Page 117 of The Last Mrs. Parrish

He lunged for her, but the men stopped him and cuffed him. “You bitch! No matter how long it takes, I’ll get even with you.” He struggled against the agent holding him. “You’ll be sorry you did this.”

A rather large agent standing behind Jackson pushed the chain of the cuffs that were in his hand gently toward the ground. Having no choice, Jackson dropped to his knees, wincing in pain.

Daphne shook her head. “I’m not sorry. And you can’t hurt me anymore. You have no one to blame but yourself. If you hadn’t gotten greedy and set up those offshore accounts, and if you’d paid taxes on that money like you should have, none of this would be happening. All I did was make sure your new assistant was someone with the integrity to turn you in.”

“What are you talking about?”

Douglas came and stood next to Daphne. “My sister has CF. Daphne’s foundation saved her life.” He looked at one of the men and nodded.

“Excuse me, ma’am... sir, I need the two of you to step back, please.” The agent sneaked in a wink and a wry smile. “Let’s go, Mr. Parrish,” he said, lifting him off his knees and in the direction of the elevator.

“Wait,” she said. “Don’t forget your present, Jackson.”

She grabbed the package from the desk and slipped it into his pocket.

“Sorry, ma’am. I need to see that.” The tallest of the men put his hand out.

She took the package from him and unwrapped it, holding up a cheap plastic turtle from the dollar store. “Here you are, sweetie,” she said as she dangled it in front of him. “Something to remember me by. Like you, it has no power over me anymore.”

Seventy-Three

Daphne had one more stop to make. She got out of the cab and told the driver to wait for her. It still felt strange, having to ring the bell to her former home. Margarita opened the door and threw her hands up in surprise. “Missus! It’s so good to see you.”

She gave her a hug. “You too, Margarita.” She lowered her voice. “I hope she’s treating you okay.”

Margarita’s face became a mask, and she looked around nervously. “Did you come to see Mister?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m here to see Amber.”

Her eyebrows rose. “I be right back.”

“What areyoudoing here?” Amber appeared, looking rail-thin and pale.

“We need to talk.”

She looked at Daphne suspiciously. “About what?”

“Let’s go inside. I don’t think you want your staff overhearing.”

“This ismyhouse now. I’ll do the inviting.” She pursed her lips and then looked around nervously. “Fine, follow me.”

Daphne followed her into the living room and took a seat in front of the fireplace. An enormous portrait of Amber and Jackson on their wedding day had replaced the family portrait. Even though Amber had been pregnant and showing at the time, she’d had the artist paint her sylphlike, without the bulging belly.

Looking at Daphne warily, she spoke. “What gives?”

“Don’t ever bother my children again.”

She rolled her eyes. “All I did was send them an invitation to their brother’s baptism. Did you fly all the way from California just to complain about that?”

Ignoring Amber’s taunting, Daphne leaned toward her. “You listen to me, you little bitch. If you ever send them so much as a postcard, I’ll have your head. Is that clear, Lana?”

She leaped out of the chair and came close. “What did you call me?”

“You heard me... Lana. Lana Crump.” Daphne wrinkled her nose. “Such an unfortunate last name. It’s no wonder you don’t use it.”

Amber’s face was red, and her breath came fast. “How did you know?”

“I hired a detective after Meredith confronted you. I found out everything then.”

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