At some point, Annie came to realize that Charlie’s resentment wasn’t a passing phase. That happened about the time she read, first page to last, one of his unpublished manuscripts, the one called Easy Annie.
Charlie would never have let her read it. He guarded his laptop more closely than his ATM PIN, but she’d stumbled on the manuscript by accident. He’d left a copy he’d planned to send to a prospective agent out on the kitchen counter. She moved it to avoid dripping coffee on it, never intending to read it. The first sentence, however, caught her attention:
Before she met me, Annie was nothing but a cheap, sad girl, the kind all the boys would use, but none of them could ever love. She was nothing but sloppy seconds.
Annie couldn’t stop reading after that, and as she read more, she found it didn’t get better, only worse. A switch flipped inside her then. She saw clearly for the first time that Charlie only wanted to be with her as long as he was the savior and she was the save-ee, as long as she never got more respect than he did.
During the last year of their marriage, Annie went through her angry phase, but eventually, by the end, after all the mediation and the back-and-forth about custody of their beautiful son, who would soon start kindergarten, and a lot of counseling, she came to forgive him.
Now she knew she’d always be grateful for the kindness Charlie had shown her in high school. A part of her would always love him, too, despite the cruel things he wrote about her. He had saved her back in high school. But now she was going to save herself.
And she did—by cutting the cord and leaving him.
She took a deep breath now and told herself she was a long way from that woman who’d lived under the thumb of a bitter husband in San Diego. After the divorce became final six months ago, she moved back to Sweet Valley, into the house her mother had left her when she died, and now she was going to start a new life here with her son.
A new life that included being a part of Leisten, Hartke & White.
She began her arguments to the judge. Her words flowed smoothly and none of her nerves showed. The more she talked, the more confident she became, until she was completely in control. She felt the judge coming to see her side.
Doug gave her a slight nod and she knew she’d nailed it. The starlet would go free and not have to pay a dime; the photographer would have some explaining to do about why he’d thrown himself onto the hood of her car in the first place.
At that moment, she felt more like herself than she had since she’d filed for divorce.
After the hearing, she texted Jessica.
SORRY—JUST GOT OUT OF COURT. WHAT’S GOING ON?
Jessica texted back.
WE NEED A LEGAL EXPERT. CAN YOU COME TO BRUCE’S HOUSE TODAY?
Annie answered:
ABSOLUTELY.
She slipped her phone back into the front pocket of her briefcase. Bruce hadn’t officially hired her as his defense attorney, but she hoped he would eventually. She’d been born to take his case. It would be monumental for her career, and it was one she felt pretty sure she could win.
She had no doubt Bruce was innocent.
Sure, Bruce had been full of himself in high school, but Annie had always had a soft spot for him, and now she was a little gleeful at the thought of helping him.
And she had Jessica to thank for that.
Amazing what a difference a few years makes. Since she’d come back to Sweet Valley, the two had actually become friends. She had always been close with Elizabeth, but since her firm began to handle VERTPLUS.NET, Jessica’s company, she had also been spending a lot of time with Jessica. The fact that they both were now single, working moms of little boys (hers now six and Jessica’s two) also gave them lots to talk about.
Motherhood had mellowed Jessica, Annie thought. She wasn’t quite the same spoiled Jessica from high school, the one who’d set out to keep her from the cheerleading squad. Boy, had she hated that Jessica then.
No, this was a more rational, more professional Jessica. Sure, she would always be a little self-centered, but that was just Jessica.
Now, Jessica had brought her—even unofficially—the most sought-after case in Southern California. Annie felt grateful.
Annie had good instincts. She had a talent for sniffing out something fishy with a victim’s account, and in this story, something just didn’t add up. She couldn’t put her finger on it exactly, but she felt something was wrong, and she’d told Jessica so.
Eventually, she was sure, the truth would come out. It almost always did.
Chapter Eight
Steven Wakefield gently put baby Emma into her cradle shortly after two in the morning. He always held his breath when he put her down, praying the handoff to the crib wouldn’t send her eyes flying open and unleash cries of protest.
Steven knew if she made even so much as a peep, his partner, Aaron, would be running down the hall and would scoop her up and rock her the rest of the night in his arms. And then she’d spend yet another night out of her crib.
Steven knew Aaron really did mean well. They both did. Both of them had instantly fallen for little Emma the day she was born to surrogate mother Linda Carson, whom Steven and Aaron had paid to supply the egg and carry Emma. They had both donated their sperm, and neither one knew who was actually the biological father. Not that it mattered. They were both her dads. So far she didn’t look like either of them, really. She looked most like Linda, her mother, who
