41. Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-One
Ava
For the first time, maybe ever, my life is not just stable but also happy.
I take Landon to school. I go to work. I pick up Landon, and I return to the home we’re sharing with Stephen, where I finally understand what a family feels like.
It’s not something I experienced in my childhood—at least not in terms of a parent–child relationship or even two stable, loving parents—and I never felt anything like this in the giant mansion with Raul.
In this house, there’s no doubt that Landon and I are loved and we’re safe. Cherished, even.
Old me would consider this life the height of boring—who was I without the drama and conflict?
—but I’ve never been happier. Like a light inside me has been switched on, and everywhere I go, I glow.
Even people at work have commented about how well rested (if they only knew it’s actually well fucked) and buoyant I seem.
The rest of the world could fade away tomorrow, and I wouldn’t miss any of it as long as I still had Landon and Stephen. That’s my core truth. I just need the two of them to be happy.
“Ava?” Nancy is at my office door. “Vanessa Foster is here to see you. There’s no appointment on your calendar. She’s still downstairs. I can tell her to leave if you want.”
“No, I’ll talk to her. Send her in.”
“You’re sure?”
I narrow my eyes at Nancy, wondering what she’s heard on the Bellerive gossip circuit. Though I suppose it’s probably common knowledge that Stephen kicked Vanessa out of the house. I don’t even know where she’s living now.
“Very sure,” I say.
“Okay,” Nancy says, and she disappears from the doorway.
It doesn’t take long for Vanessa to appear, her knuckles brushing lightly against the frame. “I’m sorry for just stopping by.”
“I don’t have a problem with you coming here.
Come in.” Part of me has always searched Vanessa, looking for commonalities with Stephen.
But there’s not much on the surface. She’s shorter, with light hair and eyes, where his features are darker.
Where Stephen’s always been broodier, Vanessa brimmed with sunshine as a kid, but somewhere along the line, that spark was snuffed out.
I lean back in my chair and wait to hear what she has to say.
She approaches my desk and then hovers, not sitting. I gesture to a chair, but she shakes her head. “I won’t stay long.” After a deep breath, she continues, “I needed to come here in person. To apologize. For what happened to you and Landon.”
“For us almost dying.”
“Yes, for that. There’s stuff I can’t say for legal reasons, but I needed you to know that I didn’t know you and Landon would be involved in any way.”
“But your friends wanted to kill my husband.”
“From what I knew, death wasn’t what they wanted. Obviously, with how things happened, I can’t be sure. I didn’t set out to kill him.” She takes a deep breath and shrugs. “I’m not going to cry if he dies.”
That makes two of us. Mine is probably the bigger sin.
“I’m sorrier than I can ever explain that you and Landon were caught up in that.”
“Who’s a villain and who’s a hero really depends on where you’re standing, doesn’t it? Did you come to ask if I’ll speak to Stephen? Ask him to reconsider?”
“No, no. I wouldn’t… I didn’t come with any expectations. Some things were said—”
“By you, about me.” Part of me still resents that she implied I was using Stephen. Maybe what we used to have wasn’t what we have now, but it wasn’t that, either. Even when we tried to pretend we didn’t mean anything to each other, we were terrible at it.
“And I was wrong. Mom and Dad say that Stephen’s never been happier, that you’re divorcing Raul. Stephen told me about Landon.” Her voice breaks.
“I’ll talk to Stephen. Maybe I can smooth things over,” I say, an unexpected ache rising for her and her family. She made bad choices, but god, who hasn’t?
“I hope,” Vanessa says, her voice thick with unshed tears, “that Stephen will forgive me one day. But it’s not your job to repair our relationship. It’s mine. It’s all me.”
“He loves you,” I say, “and if there’s one thing I know about Stephen’s love, it’s that he can forgive a lot when he loves someone. Maybe he just needs some time.”
“We’ve drifted apart. We became caretakers for our parents, not siblings.
Not really. Being so far apart in age has never helped.
He looked after me when I was younger, and then I think when he came back, he didn’t know what to do with me.
And maybe I still needed to be looked after a little, but I was too busy looking after everyone else. ”
It’s heartbreaking to hear how isolated she’s felt. The last time I was that untethered, I married a man I didn’t love, accepted a life that didn’t fit.
“This might be a good opportunity to think about what’ll make you happy.”
She lets out a little laugh that holds no humor. “Yeah,” she agrees, but it’s quick, flippant. “Maybe.”
My cell phone buzzes on my desk, and I see it’s the hospital in Boston. They call whenever there’s an update on Raul’s condition, and my pulse immediately speeds up. “I’m sorry,” I say to Vanessa. “I need to take this, and I’ll need some privacy.”
“Thanks for seeing me. I appreciate it.” She leaves and draws my door closed behind her.
“Hello?” I say.
“This is Dr. Meegan Moffat from Boston Medical Center. May I please speak to Mrs. Santos?”
Inside, I cringe at the moniker, but it’s one the hospital has assumed for some reason. “Yes,” I say, “this is she.”
“We have some exciting news to report,” and there’s genuine joy in her voice, “your husband is awake, alert, and asking for you.”
I sink deeper into my chair. All the joy I’ve been existing on, like food for a famished soul, dries up. “He’s asking for me?”
“He is. I’m not sure if you’re in Boston or if you’re in Bellerive. I know it’s been a long wait.”
“I’m in Bellerive,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Does he seem like himself?”
“That’s hard for me to say,” Dr. Moffat admits.
“He’s alert. Our scans are promising in terms of him making a substantial recovery.
I suspect you’ll be the true judge of whether or not he seems like himself.
That is, I’m sure, the nerve-wracking part.
Will he still be the man you fell in love with? ”
I close my eyes and lean back in the chair. “I’ll be there as soon as I can arrange a flight.”
“He’ll be thrilled. I’ll let him know.”
When we hang up, I stare into space for a beat, letting this new blow to my reality sink in. What happens now?
“Don’t go,” Stephen says.
The minute I called him in the car while I was driving home, he left work to meet me at the house. Landon is still at school, thankfully. He’ll be happy his “dad” is alive, but having Raul awake just makes me realize my life is one giant bundle of lies.
“He’s asking for me.”
“Then you take divorce papers with you.”
“What about my mom? She said if I divorced him, she’ll come after you.”
“Let me worry about Celia.”
“How do I feel so ill prepared for this?” I toss items in my suitcase, not really paying attention to what I’m packing. “We had all this time, and we didn’t make a plan. You said we needed a plan, and we didn’t make one. We just stuck our heads in the sand and hoped he didn’t wake up.”
“Then don’t go,” Stephen says again. “Stay. We’ll call Caitlin. Put together a plan. Just because he’s asking for you doesn’t mean you have to go.”
“If he’s the same man he’s always been, then staying here and ignoring his request is as good as declaring war. We don’t want war with that man. That much I know.” I stop packing to meet Stephen’s gaze. “I think we both know that.”
“Go tomorrow morning,” Stephen offers. “Take your family jet. But go tomorrow. Please. Go with divorce papers. Tell him about Landon. Tell him you were both lied to. Then come home to me.”
He makes it sound so easy. Peaceful, even. “Whoops, we both got screwed. Can you sign here?” Except Raul told me what he’d do if I tried to leave, and unless he’s woken up a different man, he’ll follow through on that promise.
I’m in for a fight, and I’m not at all prepared.
“I’ll go tomorrow,” I agree. “Can you see if Caitlin will meet with us?”
In the end, I didn’t pack a suitcase. Fly to Boston. See Raul. Go home to my family.
In my oversized purse is a manilla envelope with the divorce papers Caitlin already had drafted “just in case” Raul woke up and I was ready to end things. Honestly, in my heart, I’ve been ready for years.
My only hope, really, is that learning Landon isn’t his son is a deal breaker. My son is the reason we got married, the reason we’ve stayed together. Once he realizes Landon isn’t biologically his child, I can’t see him wanting to stay. There’s no reason for him to stay.
Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
At the nurse’s station, I ask for Raul’s room. In the weeks he’s been here, I’ve never been to Boston to visit him. Other than a couple video chats that the nurses organized, thinking I’d want them, I haven’t made any effort beyond the bare minimum to keep in touch.
“This must have been so hard for you,” the nurse who’s showing me to his room says.
“It’s been a long journey,” I agree.
“And this is his room,” she says, gesturing to the next door. “Private. No one will disturb you. Keep in mind that he may still be a bit fragile.”
The divorce papers suddenly feel so much heavier in my bag. I nod because I don’t know what to say.
At the door, I take a deep breath before pushing it open. Raul is thin and pale in the bed. When he turns his gaze from the window to take me in, my heart stutters at the coldness I see there. Did he always look at me that way? With such indifference?
“You were in Bellerive?” he says.
“Yes. They didn’t know when you’d wake up. It made more sense to be there. Let Landon get back to some sense of normalcy.”
“Where is he?”
“Still in Bellerive.”
“You didn’t bring my son to see me? Does he even know I’m awake?”
I swallow and approach his bed. “Some things came to light after our accident.”
“Oh?” Raul’s tone is mocking. “You had an epiphany while I was recovering?”
“Landon lost a lot of blood in the accident, and he needed a transfusion. He has a rare blood type. One neither you nor I have.”
He eyes me for a beat as though waiting for me to continue. But I’m really hoping he can put this together himself. “What does that mean? He’s all right, I assume. You don’t seem upset.”
“Yes, he’s recovered,” I say, dragging out the inevitable. “But it means that… Well, we found out that Landon is not biologically your son.”
“Not my son?” His eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “We had a DNA test done. It was conclusive.”
“Yes, but—”
“But your mother,” he says with a sigh, “was in charge. That’s what happened, isn’t it? Celia doctored the results.”
“Yes,” I say.
A hint of a smile tips one corner of his lips. “I should be angry, you know. But honestly, it’s impressive the lengths your mother will go to to get what she wants. Can’t help admiring that.” Then he levels his stare at me. “Did you know?”
“No, I… I just found out. I had the DNA run through the palace, just to be sure.” I slip the envelope out of my purse. “And since we’ve been staying together for Landon, and that’s no longer relevant, I figured you’d want these.”
He watches me place the envelope on the tray across his lap that has a glass of water on it. “What’s that?”
“We got married for Landon…”
“Did we?” He narrows his eyes. “Or did you? I married you because you were a Tucker. A gorgeous, fuckable Tucker. The connections. The name. The old money. The prestige of being associated with your family. The deals your mother promised to help me negotiate. None of that changes just because the child I never wanted isn’t biologically mine. He’s legally mine.”
“Everything has changed for me,” I say, straightening. “I’ve moved out of our house. As far as I’m concerned, we’re over.”
“I’m not signing away our marriage. And I’m not signing away my son. I want you to listen very, very carefully. I’m only going to say this one more time. The next time I have to remind you, I won’t be so kind.”
Bile rises into my throat because this isn’t the first time he’s given me a lecture.
“I already know I stand a good chance in court at keeping contact with Landon, if not getting full custody. The possibility he wasn’t really mine lurked in the back of my mind for years, so I’ve been preparing for this betrayal.
I know a lot of people, and those people owe me favors.
You can either come back to me, be my wife in every sense of the word, or I’ll take the two things that matter most. Reckless will be dismantled—all those families will be out of work, no benefits, no paychecks.
I’ll even tear down the building. Then I’ll make you look like the most unstable, unsuitable mother possible.
When I’m done, no judge will ever award you visitation, let alone custody. ”
“I don’t want to be married to you anymore,” I say through tears.
“We made a deal. Until death do us part. If you try to break our deal, I’ll ruin everything you love. This is a good lesson for you. You can’t always snap your fingers and have your deals nullified. Sometimes the choices you make stick forever.”
“I’m not coming back to you. I’m not staying in this marriage.”
“I’ll give you until I’m out of here. I’ve been told I’ll have a few weeks, perhaps even a month or two of rehab to get me physically fit to leave. When I’m back in Bellerive, you can make your real choice. I won’t hold what you’ve said today against you.”
“We’ll take you to court. You’re not Landon’s biological father.”
“Take me to court. I’m the only father he’s ever known, and a lot of those judges? Guess whose pocket they’re in. What are the chances you’ll get one who isn’t? Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”
“You’re telling me you’d bribe a judge?”
“Everyone in Bellerive can be bought. Do you know who I learned that from?” He raises his eyebrows, a smirk rising. “Your mother.”
Which means I could pay to play too. I have money.
I’m not without options. But the risk is overwhelming.
If I didn’t pay enough. If Raul went over my head anyway.
Money is great, but information—and I hate to admit my mother has ever been right about anything—information is where the real power lies.
For six years, I could have been paying more attention, gathering ammunition.
But it never occurred to me that this sequence of events would happen or anything like it.
Raul holds all those cards. He knew this day was a possibility, and I never had a clue.
“I’m sure you’ll need to get back on that jet to get home to our son. Like I said, I’ll be here a while. Gives you lots of time to come to the right conclusion. I’m not signing these papers”—he taps the envelope with his index finger—“unless your company and our son are the collateral damage.”