Chapter 3
THREE
Present day
N ikki's family stares at me with narrowed eyes. I shrug my shoulders—or as much as I can considering I'm still sporting a cast.
I can only imagine what I look like. I've never been prone to vanities, but maybe I should have taken a look in the mirror before coming here.
Lifting my hand to my face, I brush my hair aside, arranging it so it doesn't seem so messy. The doctors had done the craniotomy on the occipital bone, so even though they'd shaved the area, you can't tell since the rest of my hair covers it.
Oddly enough, my attending physician had told me that I'd recovered miraculously considering the many injuries I had—to my dismay. You'd think that a broken heart would slow down the process, not speed it. Although, watching my husband's killers in the eye now, I realize it had all been for this moment.
Just you wait.
You will all pay. I now have all the evidence that the accident was not an accident. It’s all safely ensconced in a security box at a bank downtown. Soon, they will all pay!
My smile widens—to the discomfort of Nikki's family.
"Good. Everyone is here," Mr. Daniels chirps as he walks inside the conference room, taking a seat at the end of the big round table.
"You're looking quite good, Mrs. Archibald," he notes, his eyes surveying me from head to toe.
Someone snickers.
"I've been better," I shrug.
"Right. Why don't we begin?" He gives us all a saccharine smile as he removes some documents from an envelope.
Placing his glasses on his nose, he starts reading the will. It doesn't take me long to realize this is the same one Nikki told me about—the one that leaves most of his assets to me.
"I don't understand why they are here if I'm the beneficiary. They don't get anything." I point to the family when Mr. Daniels finishes.
"Actually," Mr. Daniels clears his throat. "They are here because Mr. Archibald"—he nods to Nikki's uncle Matthew—"wants to contest the will."
"Contest?" I burst out. "What for? I'm his wife, and his will states that I get the majority of his assets, including the company. What is there to contest?" I get to my feet, giving Mr. Daniels a belligerent look.
"Lucero, dear. You've been in the hospital for quite some time, so you may not be aware," Ophelia addresses me in a fake voice. "But once we discovered that Nicholas was using hard drugs, we did our duty and talked to his therapist and his physician." She feigns a sound of distress.
"What are you talking about?"
"His doctor told us that he hadn't been in his right mind since that accident years ago. The therapist confirmed it, too. Since the accident took a toll on his brain, it caused some issues with his frontal lobe. It's that part of the brain that deals with decision-making."
"I know what the front lobe is," I snap.
"Frontal," she corrects, her finger delicately raised.
"Your point?" I arch an eyebrow.
"We've talked to his other therapists, of course, and they all confirmed that he suffered personality disturbances after the accident. We've brought the medical records here. They've already been notarized."
"I don't see what that has to do with the will."
"Of course it does. He ratified the will after his accident."
"Nikki said his doctor cleared him for that." I narrow my eyes.
"And who knows what other lies he might have told you? All his therapists said the same thing. The boy was living in a delusional world." She flutters the documents in her hand. "Why, those houses of his alone were more secure than Alcatraz. To say he was paranoid would be an understatement."
"I still don't get what you're trying to do with this. Even if that were all true—and I know it's not —I'm still his wife and that means I stand to inherit his assets."
"Not if the marriage happened under duress, too. Not if he wasn't able to make a sound decision. He did marry you after his accident, after all. Didn't you move in with him only a few months after he woke up from his coma? Who's to say you didn't influence him in some way?" she says innocently, although the malice is evident.
"What?" I whisper, horrified.
"And of course, if he wasn't of sound mind to make these decisions, that means there are grounds for the annulment of your marriage, too."
"How can you believe a word she says?" I ask in a hurt voice as I turn to Mr. Daniels. "They planned this from the beginning. They've been trying to kill Nikki for years to get their hands on his money. Do you think that accident was a fluke? Or do you think this accident was just that, an accident?"
"Now, Lucero. I won't allow you to accuse us of something so heinous," Matthew interrupts.
"Heinous? You sent your thugs to burn down our home, just a few hours ago," I accuse, pure hatred bleeding from my voice. I’d gone back to check Nikki’s computers for evidence of Nikki’s innocence when a bunch of thugs had broken in and set fire to the house. Luckily I’d managed to get away, together with a USB filled with security footage that proves Nikki did not cause the accident and it was all a set up.
Thank God for secure Cloud storage.
"That is a vile accusation!" Ophelia intervenes.
"Is it? I have the evidence to prove it. Because that's what you were after, weren't you? You wanted to destroy the evidence that proved it wasn't an accident, just like you wanted to erase the fact that you had your people in my home?—"
"Mrs. Archibald, they are correct in that these are serious accusations. If you have the proof you say you do, you should give it to the police and let them do their job," Mr. Daniels interrupts, his voice calm. "But in the meantime, the documents Mrs. Lockwood and Mr. Archibald have provided are sufficient to dismiss the will and your claim to any portion of Mr. Archibald's assets."
"What..." I blink furiously, unable to believe what is happening.
Ophelia smirks, and all the others smile furtively.
"And if that is all, I'll be in touch with the division of assets very soon," Mr. Daniels explains before he leaves the room.
"Lucero, dear. I'd tell you not to take anything from the house since it doesn't technically belong to you. But all your stuff is gone anyway." She laughs as she passes by me.
All of them leave—all but Matthew.
"You might want to be careful with that so-called evidence," he warns.
"Is that a threat?" I look Matthew straight in the eye.
"Of course not. Call it friendly advice. We were family, were we not?" He chuckles. "Although..." His eyes linger over my body. "Maybe I could help you out," he adds suggestively. "If your marriage gets annulled, you'll get deported."
His meaning sinks in, and before I know it, I curl my hand into a fist and aim it at his smug face. He doesn't expect it, which makes it even better when I nab him in the nose. He's pretty sensitive, too, because blood pours down his face immediately.
"You fucking bitch," he bites out right before he strikes me back, his palm making contact with my cheek.
The blow makes me lose my balance and I fall backward.
"You should be fucking thankful I offered you a way out. Hell, you should be kissing my damn shoes for even entertaining touching your pathetic little self, you fucking gold digger."
I tilt my chin up defiantly, my eyes shooting daggers at him.
"Even if you gave me all of Nikki's fortune, I would never let you lay one finger on me."
He takes a handkerchief and wipes the blood off his upper lip.
"You'll regret this." He shakes his head, his lip twitching in displeasure.
"Bring it on," I mutter.
He takes a step closer to me, his hand raised. But right at that moment, Mr. Daniels's assistant walks in, and Matthew immediately puts himself together, pretending nothing is wrong. And just like that, he's gone.
"Are you all right, miss?" the assistant asks me, coming to help me to my feet.
"I'm fine, thank you." I give him a slight smile before I ask him if there's any back exit I can use. He points me to the service elevator, and without looking back, I'm out of there.
I walk for a couple of streets before I stop, realizing that I have no home to return to. Of course, there is Noelle, and she is likely waiting for me to contact her. I reach into my pocket for my phone, but instead of dialing her number, I just stare at the screen.
My stomach releases a low growl, and I swallow hard.
It's been hours since I last ate, and right now I'm not pleasant company. Maybe I'll call her later.
After a few moments of going back and forth on what's the best course of action, I decide to grab something to eat first and talk to her later. Likely, she'll want to talk to me about Nikki, about the accident, about...everything. And no matter how much of a strong front I put on, I'm not ready to delve into those subjects. Especially not now after I realize the dangerous lengths his family is willing to go to in order to get their hands on his money.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I keep moving.
I have some money left, and although not much, it should be enough for a hot meal. Not one to waste unconscionable amounts on food, I try to find a cheaper place to eat, even as my stomach keeps protesting the decision.
God, but just thinking about Matthew's smug expression and his indecent proposal makes my skin crawl. His blow hadn't been unexpected, but it had certainly done a number on my already frail body.
Absentmindedly, I bring my hand over my cast, rubbing my fingers over the rough material. Maybe I should buy some painkillers too...
"Damn!" I halt, my eyes widening in shock.
My medicine. I forgot it.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I fight back against a wave of hopelessness. I can't succumb to it, no matter how much I'd like to.
But how much bad luck can one person have in one lifetime? I can barely afford to think about Nikki because then I'd truly lose it, but every little failure seems to push me further in that direction anyway.
I have to keep my head clear to punish his murderers, but how can I do that when every second is a struggle? How can I not think about him when he's all I've been thinking of for the past eight years?
I've always looked at my life as before and after Nikki.
For the first sixteen years of my life, I was simply a thing , not a person. I served my purpose, but there was nothing more to me. Nikki was the first one to see me as a person and not an object. He was the first to tell me my thoughts mattered, or that I was smart despite my obvious lack of education. He was the first to truly see me.
Before, I'd never felt any of those things. I saw myself as cursed because everyone saw me as such. But he... He made me realize my worth.
Tears swim in my eyes, trickling down my cheeks as I move slowly, aimlessly.
A jolt in my left arm startles me and makes me lose my balance. I take a step backward, my eyes alert as I scan my surroundings. When I don't see anyone around, I frown. I could have sworn something bumped into me. My arm reels from the impact, the sensation growing in intensity as it spreads down my body. There's a silent hum just underneath my skin, almost as if portions of it caught on fire.
I breathe in and out, assuming it's just the start of a panic attack—Nikki always had those. But the pricking sensation persists—so much so that it makes me sway lightly on my feet, my vision swimming. Backing into a corner until my back hits a wall, I crouch down, dropping my forehead to my knees and rocking back and forth.