Which I appreciate more than you know, doll.
I closed my eyes at the sound of the familiar voice that even now still rumbled in the depths of my conscience, two months since I had last seen him. Truth be told, I was still furious with him. And tremendously hurt. The look on his face when he had come storming into the bedroom where we had just made love only to accuse me of acting in concert with my husband to traffic young women across multiple states had cut me through like a sword. Even more once I had had a moment to really look at the so-called video evidence.
Caitlyn Calvert, my former best friend, yes. She might have tried, but she was no me. Not even close.
I had thought the love of my life would have recognized that almost as quickly as I had.
I shook his voice away. Regardless of my feelings for Matthew, I still believed in the importance of his former case. My husband was a monster. My home was riddled with lies. It was long past time for me to do whatever was needed to escape them both and deliver justice where it was needed.
Delia and Barney, Eric and Jane all traded glances. It was no secret that everyone in this room clearly thought that particular decision had been foolhardy in the extreme. I didn’t care. The Brooklyn DA had treated me fairly, and the defense attorney Eric had hired as soon as he found I was there had negotiated terms that were better than I had expected. I was sentenced to forty-five days in prison, had served only a few weeks. Was I now technically a felon? Yes. But I wouldn’t really suffer, and it would allow me to do the right thing: indemnify my husband, the man who was really at fault here.
But if I signed an NDA, it would all go away. Then who knew what he would do to me?
“I want to make something very clear,” I said, taking the time to look each of them in the eye. “I only care about coming out of this with two things: my ability to testify against my husband, and my daughter’s future intact. I don’t care about the money. Any of it. He can have all of my inheritance. Every piece of property. All of it as long as I get to walk away with what’s left of my father’s trust and enough to get myself through school so I can support Olivia somehow.”
My voice carried through the room. The truth was, I was terrified at the idea of being out on my own. But it also seemed like the right thing to do. If anything, Grandmother’s postmortem machinations only convinced me that much more that I could not depend on this family.
“Nina,” Eric started once more.
“No,” I interrupted. “Eric, I know you think I’m just some spoiled socialite raised with a silver spoon—”
“Nina, I didn’t say that. But come on, look at you. You’re…well, you’re obviously used to a certain kind of lifestyle. And now you’re saying you want to go without?”
I looked down at my clothes—an icy gray Givenchy blouse and skirt combo I’d purchased two years ago off the runway. Lovely, yes. But not a necessity.
“This is all Grandmother. You have to know that,” I replied. “The way she made me in her image. She thought she was teaching me the skills to live this life, but really she was just gilding my cage.”
“And the penthouse?” Eric countered. “You live in one of the nicest homes on the Upper East Side—”
“It’s a decrepit hatbox that smells like old rose water,” I retorted. “I’ve always hated it, and I always will. He can have it. Next.”
“It’s a penthouse apartment on Lexington Avenue,” countered Delia not-so-gently. “It’s worth nearly as much as Celeste’s bequest with its value growing. If for some reason the will is challenged successfully, it’s a good insurance policy for you.”
“I. Don’t. Want. It,” I practically gritted through my teeth. What was so difficult to understand about this? I turned to my cousin, pleading. “Eric, you left and made it on your own. Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because no one’s asking you to,” he said, but I wasn’t done.
“I would wear nothing but rags and raise my daughter in a cardboard box if it meant I could be free of him forever,” I said. “That’s all I want. That’s it.”
“Well, luckily, it won’t ever come to that,” Jane put in as she returned carrying a tray of badly needed glasses of wine for us and the lawyers, plus a straight vodka for Eric.
Warmth flooded through me. The way these two continued to care for me was utterly baffling. I hadn’t expected this much. Ever.
My attorneys, however, seemed to have something else on their minds. Neither of them even touched the proffered drinks.
“Er, Ms. de Vries. Might we speak with you in private?”
Eric frowned. “Nina?”
“Come on, Petri dish,” Jane cut in. “We don’t need to be voyeurs on every single one of Nina’s conversations, you know.”
She popped up from the couch and proceeded to tow Eric out of the room by his tie. He didn’t look altogether unpleased by his wife’s sudden attention.
I turned back to Barney, who had made the request. “It’s getting late.”
“Yes,” he said. “But we wanted to speak to you about…well, about the other option here. Of getting Mr. Gardner to be more…amenable.”
I frowned. “There’s another option?”
Delia sighed. “We didn’t think you would want to discuss it in front of Eric and Jane. But, Ms. de Vries, if you did file on grounds of abuse—”
My head snapped up. “On grounds of what?”
Both lawyers remained quiet. They looked almost sorry for me, and their expressions were exactly why I had never told anyone at all about the things Calvin had done.
But that day in their office, caught as I was on a tidal wave of truth that seemed to
