Chapter 6 #2
Fifteen minutes later, Amanda had Callie and Zander packed. It was only a three-and half-hour flight, so whatever essentials she didn’t have for the baby she’d send for. Knowing how locked down the house was, Amanda was smart enough to wait in the foyer, avoiding the men who were stationed outside.
Stan circled the drive at 2:37, behind the wheel of one of Montgomery’s rotating fleet of Navigators.
Stan must have said something to placate the men stationed out front because after a cursory nod, the guards left them alone as Amanda carried a sleepy Callie, Rosa held Zander, and Stan transferred their bags.
Not wanting to further upset the applecart with the children and Rosa in the car, Amanda remained silent. It wasn’t easy; she had a million questions swirling through her head.
By the time they pulled up next to the plane, Captain Morgan had the jet ready.
Amanda settled the kids in back; Callie safely strapped to the sofa, and Zander in his car seat next to Rosa.
Amanda took her usual seat, always port side—her father had taught her years ago that it moved the least—and Stan took the seat across the aisle from her. Lift-off was but moments later.
She thought of Callie’s sweet, innocent question about seeing her papa as the lights faded from below.
Alexander Montgomery. The father of her children.
Where had they met? When had they met? How long had she known him before—seriously!
It didn’t feel like she’d lost that much of her memory, but here she was, missing an entire relationship.
She looked at the scars on her left hand, but she couldn’t remember how they’d gotten there. She was traditional in some regards, always had been, so she would never have had Zander without being married. But she couldn’t remember any of it.
She racked her brain for those lost memories, and her mind settled upon Callie’s first day of school.
She’d never forget it because that was the first morning her jeans hadn’t fit since she’d gotten pregnant with Zander, and it wasn’t like she could have arrived pants-less.
Thank God for mommy blogs and the genius behind the rubber band trick for buttoning up your jeans.
She remembered how cute Callie had looked in her litt—wait. Something else. Amanda remembered being so sad that day. Sad that he couldn’t see it. Alex.
Actually, she’d been more than sad, she’d been distraught.
She’d hated that he wasn’t there, but why?
Had he been working for his government? Off on some secret mission?
Or had they broken up and he went one way and she the other?
Why would he have left Callie with her, especially when it was clear how deeply he cared for her?
It took about twenty minutes for Rosa to fall asleep. Amanda had been waiting for this moment, wanting to question Stan. He must have known it, too, because not more than thirty seconds later, he crossed the meager aisle and took the seat facing her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked before he had a chance to speak.
“I work for him now.”
“That hurts.”
“I know. Me too.”
“Tell me what in the hell is going on, Stan? Can I trust you? Am I safe? Is he after the children?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Amanda, all of this”—he made a circular motion with his hands—“is because of what happened in the hospital. Alex wanted to come clean. I wanted to come clean. But Evan told us repeatedly that your memory is going to return, and that until it does, it would be more harmful to overwhelm you with all of your history. It’s jacked-up complicated and I may in fact lose my job for taking you to Chicago, but you know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, or your family. Ever.”
Stan folded down the small airplane table between them and set his laptop on it.
“The files are right here,” he said as he clicked on an icon.
“I took you underground, Amanda, last year when we moved from New York to California. The press was too much at the time, and with Callie and the baby on the way, it was just easier all around. On all of us. For a lot of reasons. Anything you read here has been wiped from the internet. Our team under Art and now Alex handles the daily sweeps. It’s only the bones, Amanda.
I really need to talk with Evan about the rest, if that’s okay with you. ”
“For now, you can keep the color commentary to yourself.”
Clippings from newspapers and tabloids with headlines that read things like “Amanda Marceau, Famous Songwriter, Heiress to the Marceau Fortune, Mysteriously Disappears,” all dated from a little over a year ago.
One article went into the specifics of where she was last seen, though apparently, it hadn’t been known if it was in the States or abroad.
Almost as strangely, Amanda read that her stepbrother, Robert, their usual family spokesperson, also couldn’t be located for comment.
Another article announced her return, which had apparently been just as mysterious.
“She’s Back! Amanda Marceau in the Flesh. ”
Amanda shivered. It was eerie reading about herself like this, things she had zero memory about.
This one speculated on a family rift as Robert still wasn’t available for comment.
Frankly, Amanda didn’t care whether or not Robert was ever “available for comment” again, but his absence was weird. He loved the spotlight, always had.
An In Scene magazine cover showed pictures of her holding hands with Callie on the beach in the Hamptons, walking among the shops and eating in town.
Sam, Stan, and two others, obviously part of her security detail, were pictured as well under the headline “Marceau Part Deux—Where Did Amanda Keep Her Love Child and Little Clone?”
There were countless more articles and magazine clippings, one even featuring a screenshot of that awful viral video under the headline “Can She Pull It Together for Awards Season?”
The next file Amanda opened gave her a shock.
Various passports and birth certificates for not only her, but Callie as well.
Each had corresponding mother-daughter names, aliases, and numbers.
Adoption papers for Callie. An amniocentesis she’d had while pregnant with Zander.
The documents drew attention to the fact that Callie and her unborn baby were related by their father.
At that, Amanda realized she had been holding her breath as she clicked through these files. She let it all out in one whoosh.
Who was this person? What had she been up to that she’d needed so much illicit documentation?
She’d actually traipsed the black market.
Why? Had she taken Callie? And now that he knew she couldn’t remember, was Mr. Montgomery making his move, coming after them again?
But surely Sam would have said something.
Stan too. Forget that, Art would have killed him if—did they know?
Maybe he had cleverly worked his way back in?
So many questions, and as of now, so few answers.
Still, how had Callie come to be hers and not Montgomery’s?
They’d obviously been on the scene alone together sans Alex last year. What the hell had happened?
With the two-hour time difference, it was 8:30 a.m. Chicago time when they landed.
Amanda’s eyes ached from exhaustion and studying the screen so intently for the entire ride, but because she was in charge now, she gathered her children and what remained of her loyal retinue, and they climbed into the waiting Range Rover at the private airport outside the city.
The sun was just climbing as Stan navigated the downtown traffic to her penthouse. She felt like a character in one of those spy movies, trying to keep one step ahead of the other players.
Alexander Montgomery didn’t consider himself a man quick to anger. However, when he’d arrived at Amanda’s early that morning, his blood pressure had shot up instantly.
“What do you mean, they left with Stan?” he asked the men stationed outside the front doors. Were they kidding?
After going to the kitchen and pouring a cup of coffee, he’d realized how oddly quiet the house was, even at this early hour.
He’d taken the stairs two at a time and quickly discovered that Amanda and his children were gone.
Helen was none the wiser as to their current whereabouts or that they had left at all.
“At 2:39 this morning,” Jason confirmed. At least the man had the decency to look a little sheepish that it had taken them this long to catch on to the fact that they’d been duped by their comrade.
Alexander called Stan. “Did you actually have the temerity to take my wife and children from their home without telling me?”
“Boss, I—”
“Bring them back now!” he shouted, not caring who else heard. Bloody hell, Stan had taken his family from him. And presently, he couldn’t just jump on a plane and go after them.
Alexander glanced at the dial of his Breitling; he had two important meetings today, one at nine, the other at six, in New York.
Amanda knew it, too—he’d told her of his schedule yesterday so she would know not to expect him for dinner.
She’d made a cute comment about having only seven for dinner and what was a girl to do. It was adorable. Or, it had been.
“She’s really mad,” Stan said.
“About. What.”
“You, sir.” So Amanda had figured it out. She knew. He didn’t know how she’d done it, but she was a fiercely intelligent woman. He felt his muscles relax, if only slightly. But if she knew what had happened, why had she left?
“Did she disclose any details?” Alex asked through gritted teeth, trying to retain what calm he could, remembering that Stan was a consummate professional.
“At this point, I think she knows only that you’re Callie and Zander’s father.”