Page 5 of The Billionaire and His Forever

“She puts on a good face for the public, but you have to remember that she’s an actress. We’ve seen who she really is.” Esmeralda shakes her head and leans back in her chair.

I have never in my life been so grateful that the head of housekeeping is such a gossip. Only a few weeks ago, I was worried she told the tabloids about Graham and me, but here she is, hopefully helping me build a case to save him.

“She wanted to keep Mr. Ratliff on a leash, too,” Mary interjects, setting a heavenly lobster roll in front of me. “He wasn’t allowed to do anything or go anywhere unless she was involved. But we all know how much she liked to galivant around on her own.”

“I don’t understand why the press seems to like her so much,” I say. “Just a few months ago, it was all about her affairs, but now they’re weeping over her being in the hospital.”

“They’re just trying to sell papers and keep people tuning in on TV. They don’t really care about anybody. But Mrs. Ratliff does know how to work them,” Esmeralda sniffs. She takes a huge bite of her sandwich, shaking her head as she chews.

“I used to worry she was hurting Jude,” Mary adds. “Sometimes I’d help with baths when she was younger and they were in between nannies. I remember seeing finger-shaped bruises on Jude’s arms. I was suspicious, but she’d swear it was from riding lessons or playing rough.”

Esmeralda puts her food down, her face grave. “It wasn’t just you. I found red marks on her neck once. When I mentioned it to Mr. Ratliff, I thought he would lose his head. They fought so loudly that night. Mrs. Ratliff tried to blame it on me. Thank God he knew better.”

“Why didn’t he kick her out then?” I’m almost afraid to ask.

“I don’t know. Maybe he thought she’d get better. She did seem to have this pattern of…ups and downs,” Mary muses. “After she moved out for good, the bruising stopped.”

I take another bite of my sandwich to stifle the growing rage in my belly. How dare she hurt her child like this. I always knew Natasha was awful, butthis?

“I still can’t believe Graham didn’t report her,” I say. “Jude is everything to him.”

“It would have been his word against hers—she could even have turned around and blamed it all on him, and then where would that have left Jude?”Mary points out.

My heart sinks. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“There are many reasons we hated Mrs. Ratliff,” Esmeralda says, patting my hand gently. “That little girl is precious to all of us.”

Just then, Jude pokes her head into the kitchen. “Can I have a dessert, please?”

“Of course, sweet thing.” Mary leaps up and bustles away to help Jude.

Esmeralda shoots me a look. “I know what you’re trying to do. You need to be careful.”

“What do you mean?”

She makes sure Jude is gone again before saying, “I saw you in Mr. Ratliff’s office. We’re all worried about him, but be careful where you step. There are snakes in these grasses.”

“The biggest snake of all is in a coma,” I remind her. “I can’t sit back and do nothing. Jude needs her father.”

Later that night,I try calling the police station again, hoping I’ll be able to speak with someone a little kinder this time around. No dice. It’s seriously driving me crazy, not knowing anything. And Jude cried her little eyes out when I told her that Graham was going to be away on business for the rest of the week. I hope to God they don’t keep him in police custody longer than that.

My next call is to Graham’s lawyer, Elise Bowen. Having handled Graham’s divorce, surely she’d know about the abuses that both Graham and Jude suffered at Natasha’s hand. Maybe she can use that somehow to get Graham out of jail. I don’t have her personal number, unfortunately, but her law firm is a pretty big deal, so I do a Google search and call the office.

“Bowen and Ellis,” a curt voice answers the phone.

“Hi,” I say, feeling awkward all over again. I swallow it down and press on, because Graham needs me to. “This is Abbie Montgomery, I work for Graham Ratliff. Would it be possible to speak with Miss Bowen?”

“Oh.” The way the receptionist says the word makes my stomach turn. “The nanny.”

“Um, yes?”

“Hold on,” she sighs, as if I’m inconveniencing her. “Let me see who’s available.”

I end up speaking with a junior attorney, who refuses to give me Bowen’s cell number.

“Can you call her for me, then?” I beg. “Mr. Ratliff needs to get out of jail as soon as possible. He’sinnocent. Mrs. Ratliff is behind this whole thing, we just need to find a way to prove it. How can they even be keeping him locked up when they have no solid evidence—”

“Look, Miss…Montgomery. Frankly, you playing Nancy Drew is not going to help his case. If anything, it only bolsters the adultery narrative that the prosecution will no doubt be running with as a motive. So stop calling. Stop digging. Let the grown-ups do their jobs, okay?”

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