Page 85 of The Next Mrs. Parrish

“Just thought you’d like to know that the charges against me have been dropped.”

This must be a joke, a trick on his part. “What are you talking about?”

He laughs. “They had to drop the perjury charges. The doctor who was going to testify about your little trip to the sanatorium all those years ago died. A pity. And that recording you made of me. Inadmissible. My lawyers made mincemeat of the charges. So you see, I’m a free man. And I fully intend to pursue full custody. I don’t care how long it takes, I will prove that those kids belong with me.”

“You will never get those children. Do you hear me? They hate you. They know what you did to me. How can you think they’d ever want to be with you again?”

He laughs again. “I’m sure I can convince them that you lied. You continue to underestimate me, my dear. We could have had it all, but you just had to screw me over. Now you’re going to loseeverything. Have a safe flight. Enjoy them while you can. I think we both know who’s better at winning.”

My hands are shaking and I stare at the phone, dumbfounded. A surge of energy flows through me. “It’s over, Jackson. You can’t control me any longer. You’ve already lost.” And I disconnect.

– 54 –

JACKSON

Voices, muffled voices, surround him and he tries to move, to open his eyes. Where is he? Words here and there penetrate the fog. He thinks he hears Daphne’s voice but he can’t be sure. Why can’t he make out what they’re saying? What the hell is going on? He tries to open his eyes but nothing happens. All around him he can hear beeping noises and the hiss of machines. Throbbing. His head is going to explode. What is happening?

“Daphne,” he tries to say, but his mouth remains closed, and no sound comes from his throat. His throat burns. He raises his hand to feel, but nothing happens. Why can’t he lift his hand? Is this a dream? “Daphne!” He tries again. Nothing.

Think, think. Slowly it comes back to him. Swimming. A night swim. Jax was asleep as was his nanny, Chloe. It was close to midnight and all was quiet. It was his favorite time to do laps. Daphne had gotten the girls back and all the charges against her cleared. The girls, his girls, angry and yelling at him. Swearing to never speak to him again. At least he still had Jax. And Daphne, he’d figure out a way to get her back. He would never let her go. With each stroke he felt more confident, more assured. He’d finished, pushed himself up and out of the pool, then grabbed the towel and began to dry his hair.

“Mr. Parrish. We meet again. So nice of you to save us the trouble of breaking in.”

Jackson froze, his insides turning to ice. It couldn’t be. Slowly, heturned around and faced the man he’d hoped to never see again. The man was dressed flawlessly in a black Kiton suit tailored perfectly to his form, his silver hair sleek and slicked back. He wore his signature black-framed glasses with the unusual red-tinted lenses. Jackson knew the man suffered from achromatopsia, the inability to see any color with the exception of black, gray, and white and that was the reason for the special lenses. On either side of him stood two hulking men, their legs splayed, their arms crossed in front of their groin, each one gripping a black automatic pistol with a long silencer attached.

“What do you want?” Jackson asked, trying to sound braver than he felt. He had known this day was inevitable when he’d found that Amber had sold the diamonds. He would never have taken them to New York where they could so easily be traced back to him. Jackson’s plan had been to hold on to them for a few more years and then sell them to his contact in Europe who would have made sure he stayed anonymous. The man in front of him was not someone to be double-crossed. He could be generous—fair, even—but he had a strict moral code that had no tolerance for betrayal. Jackson scrambled to think of something to say to help himself.

The man laughed, a mirthless chuckle. “What do you think? I want my diamonds, but sadly, you’ve sold them. So I’ll have to settle for the money.”

Jackson shivered, the cool night air against his wet skin and the sight of the two guns making the hair on his arms stand up. “I, uh, I don’t have it,” Jackson said, taking a slight step back.

The man shook his head. “Do you think I’m stupid? I’ve been informed that you’ve set up an account offshore.” He inclined his head toward the table where Jackson’s phone sat. “You’re going to transfer those funds now.”

Jackson hesitated, looking around, trying to figure a way out of the situation. “I don’t have the number. My wife set it up. The rest of the money was used for an investment and I lost it.”

The man moved closer until he was inches from Jackson’s face, close enough that Jackson could smell the tobacco residue that clung to his clothes. “Don’t fucking bullshit me.”

He moved toward the table, picking up Jackson’s phone and throwing it at him. “The account number. Now.”

Jackson caught the phone with both hands but continued to stand, mute.

The man tilted his head toward one of his goons. The tall redhead strode forward and grabbed Jackson’s hand, bending the thumb until there was an audible crack. Jackson fell to his knees, howling in pain.

“I don’t know where the money is,” he panted, rising on wobbly legs.

The man shook his head. “No one steals from me. You might have gotten away with it. You hid your betrayal well. But surely you must have known that to sell them so carelessly would be your demise.”

“It wasn’t me. My wife…my stupid…”

The man came closer. “Your wife is guilty only of getting you caught. You were the one who stole from me.” His expression hardened and he spat on the ground. “Where are the three pink diamonds that were never sold?”

Jackson shook his head. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t know. Amber must have them.”

“No doubt they will surface in time. But for now, this concludes our business together.”

He moved away and nodded to his men.

“You don’t have to kill me. I’ll find a way to get the money. Give me a chance. Don’t kill me,” Jackson said, his voice shaking.

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