Page 24 of The Hampton Beach Café 6
A smile crept onto Alex's face, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.
“Of course. What's your idea?”
“I can't tell you,” she said. “I don't want you to get into trouble if it backfires. I just need to borrow some things, and for you to really rattle Malcolm…get him to come here to meet me?”
Alex shook his head warily. “Okay…this sounds nuts. When you say backfires…could it backfire on you?”
“Of course it could, but that's a risk I'm willing to take,” she said with a grin. “Now, please, get him here early tomorrow morning—really shake him up. Heck, tell him whatever you like, so long as he's entirely thrown off balance by it. And I need you to lend me some stuff from the jet ski shack…”
FIFTEEN
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, providing a comforting backdrop to the tense feeling coiled in her chest. Just as she was about to restock the bowl of hard candies by the register, the café's entrance swung open, and Malcolm stormed in, his face twisted with anger and frustration.
Frances turned to face him, her expression a mix of surprise and confusion. “Malcolm, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
Malcolm's voice trembled with a mixture of anger and desperation. “Frances, I can't believe what I just heard from Alex. He told me thatyou…that you two are in arelationship! What the hell is going on?”
Frances met his gaze, her eyes steady and unwavering despite the shock she was feeling—she'd told Alex to rattle him, but…a relationship?
She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “Malcolm, we're divorced. It's not really any of your business.”
Confusion flickered across Malcolm's face, his anger momentarily subsiding. “But…but I thought…No! We're not divorced! I keep trying to tell you but you won’t see me! This whole charade of keeping up appearances until everything settles with my inheritance, and all along you've been cheating on me!?”
Frances’ brows furrowed as she searched his face for answers. “Inheritance? CHEATING on you? What are you talking about, Malcolm?”
Malcolm's façade crumbled, his voice cracking with a mixture of despair and remorse. “Frances, I…I need to tell you the truth. It's all been a ruse…to get my inheritance from my father.”
Frances’ heart skipped a beat, a mix of shock and disbelief flooding her senses. “What do you mean? Your inheritance? Your father cut you out of his will because of me. You don't have an inheritance...”
Malcolm's eyes filled with a mixture of pain and regret. “That's what he wanted me to believe. The truth is, my father—who I hadn't spoken to in a decade, by the way—reached out about a year ago,” Malcolm said. “Look, can we please sit down and talk?”
She couldn’t think of much she wanted to do less, but it was necessary, so she followed him to the table near the door. She flipped the sign toCloseas she passed it.
“My father received a terminal diagnosis and…offered me a deal. If I divorced you, he would give me my share of the inheritance as a living trust. He'd get what he wanted—me back home in his firm without you—and sidestep the inheritance taxes. Frances, the trust is worth over a hundred and fifty million dollars! So I got in touch with an old lawyer friend of mine. He agreed to help me bodge it together—make it look real. That's why I went back to Texas, to play the perfect son!”
Frances’ mind reeled with the weight of Malcolm's confession. The deceit, the seemingly out-of-the-blue divorce, and the sheer absurdity of his actions suddenly made so much more sense. He would have known she'd never go along with it, so he decided to hide it from her.
“You filed for divorce, all for the sake of his filthy money?” Frances’ voice trembled with a mixture of hurt and disappointment. “And you really think so little of me that I'd stick around in hopes you'd come back, then forgive you for it all at the drop of a few million bucks?”
Malcolm's shoulders slumped, his voice filled with remorse. “Frances, I know it sounds unforgivable, and I deeply regret the pain I've caused you. But once my father passes away and he can't take the money back, we can be together again. We can leave this place, and everything will go back to normal. He can't have that long left in him! It's all fine. We'll be fine, right?”
Frances stared at him, the rage in her heart combined with the sting of betrayal and sickening realization of the person he had become. She took a step back, her voice filled with a newfound strength.
“No, Malcolm. It's not fine. I won't be a pawn in your game, a means to an end for money.”
Tears welled up in Malcolm's eyes as he reached out, his voice choked with remorse. “Frances, please, try to understand. It's a fortune! And all this, it's just temporary! You're my wife!”
“No,” she said. “I'm not. I signed the divorce papers the day I got them, and I've received notarized copies through the court system. I guess your lawyer friend didn't get the 'fake it' message as loud and clear as you thought he did.”
His mouth hung open in an unflattering caricature of shock. “What?”
She would be lying if she said a thrill of glee didn't run through her as she leaned forward and said again, slowly, “I am not your wife. I signed the divorce papers the day I got them.”
Staring back at her, Malcolm seemed to shrink into himself as he sat back in his chair.
“You…you divorced me?”
The edge of hurt in his voice almost made her nauseous.
