Chapter Twenty-Seven
EVELYN
A terrible shiver shot down my spine. I hated that his voice could still provoke such a visceral, fearful reaction in me.
"Why do you have my mother's phone?" I demanded.
"I took her out for coffee. She's in the bathroom. I simply asked to borrow her phone to call you, since you keep blocking all my numbers."
"When you block someone, it's a clear sign you don't want to talk to them," I countered.
I wanted to hang up, but the fact that he was with my mother froze me. Peter had never been physically violent, but I didn't doubt he would harm me or my family to get what he wanted. Because of that fear, I kept the line open, but I kept my voice firm.
"Just tell me what you want."
"Oh, darling... Aren't you going to say you missed me?"
"Believe me, not for a single second."
"I miss you every day."
"Haven't you found another sucker to give you credit cards to steal from?"
"I didn't steal from you, Evy. We were a couple. What's mine was yours, and what's yours was mine."
"We are not a couple anymore. I've moved on. You should do the same. And stop cozying up to my mother. You won't get to me through her."
"Yeah, I hear you've moved on. And in style, right? You landed a millionaire and even got two daughters. Who would've thought? You, of all people, who never wanted kids."
"Maybe I just didn't want to have your children."
"But there's just one problem, sweetie... We both know those girls aren't really yours, don't we?"
I hated the direction this was taking. "Stop playing games. What do you want?"
"You know I have friends in journalism. The press swallowed that story about you being the mother of Logan Turner's twins whole. But if someone with the real story came forward... any reporter would be thrilled to publish that bombshell, don't you think?"
"Why would you do that? What do you gain?"
"The pleasure of revenge, perhaps."
"You bankrupted me, you betrayed me countless times... I'm the one who should want revenge. Instead, I'm just trying to live my life."
"If you think the way you left me and how you've been ignoring all my pleas for forgiveness aren't enough reason for me to want revenge, that's fine. We can then ask a different question than the one you asked: what would I gain by not doing this?"
So, he finally got straight to what he wanted all along: to blackmail me. For any other reason, I would have simply hung up the phone after sending him to hell. But the stakes here were greater than my anger toward that man.
How could I ever in my life have fallen in love with that big son of a bitch?
"Spell it out, Peter."
"Fifty thousand dollars. I'd ask for cash, but since you're not in L.A., a check will do. Mail it. I know it's old-fashioned, but it's what I prefer."
"Fifty thousand? You bled me dry! What makes you think I have that kind of money?"
"Don't play dumb, Evy. Your mom told me you're with this guy because of a 'deal.' What other kind of deal could it be? Not that I doubt you're sleeping with him, too."
His words filled me with disgust. How had I been so blind? When we met, Peter was charming, respectful, and attentive. It was only after I moved in that his true colors began to show—a little more each day. And I had ignored the signs, convinced I was overreacting.
"Fifty thousand, Evy," he repeated. "Just a check. In return, I disappear. If anyone asks, I'll even tell them I've met my sweet stepdaughters."
"You'll leave me alone? And stay away from my parents?"
"I'll drop your mother off today and never darken her doorstep again."
I hated giving in. But I couldn't let him blow up Logan's life, or the girls'. Soon, my agreement would end, and the truth would come out on our own terms, once Logan had his position and hopefully Eleanor was back. But a scandal now would ruin everything.
"Fine," I finally said, the word tasting like ash. "I'll write the check. And I hope this is the last time I ever hear your voice."
He laughed, a sound that turned my stomach. "I still live at the same address. You know where to send it."
"I don't even have a checkbook."
"Get one from the bank. Figure it out."
With that, he hung up.
I tried to console myself with the thought that maybe his threat was empty—that the media wouldn't care, that the public would forget I was ever introduced as the twins' mother.
As if to prove me wrong, I spotted, a few feet away, a teenage girl with her cell phone in hand, apparently taking pictures of me, or filming me, then turning the camera toward the hot dog cart where Logan and the girls were. I looked away and saw a boy a little further away doing the same.
Maybe people hadn't completely forgotten yet.