Page 98 of Love and Lies

I gasped. “He’s in the hospital? Why? What happened?”

“We don’t know exactly.” My brother pursed his lips. “He didn’t come home last night; he stayed at the Mirage since he had a late meeting with some investors. But in the early hours of this morning, he was hit by a car two streets away. The driver said Dad just stepped out from nowhere.”

My mother’s nostrils flared, and I understood why—it was a horrible reminder of the moment I’d learned of Valerie’s death.

“How could that have happened?” I asked flatly.

“His blood alcohol level was critically high,” Lincoln managed to say. He was wearing a ratty old hoodie and hadn’t shaved. “He’s been unconscious till now, but the bartender said he was ordering one scotch after another, and at some point he just walked out.”

“Why would he do that?” I thought about what Trish Coldwell had said. Was it true? “Is it something to do with the Winchester deal? You didn’t get it?”

My brother looked at me in surprise. “How do you know about that? It’s still absolutely top secret.”

“I have my sources,” I said simply, and would have laughed at the cliché if the situation hadn’t been so horribly serious. “So it’s true? The deal fell through?”

My mother nodded, stone-faced. “Your father was still trying to fix it yesterday, but it was too late. Trish Coldwell got the contract.”

“And what does that mean for us?” I had to know the truth. I had to know if Jess’s mother was only trying to manipulate me. Because if it was true, then… No, I didn’t want to think about what it would mean for me.

Mom hesitated, but before I could argue again, she seemed to decide that the days of protecting me were over. “It means we’re ruined, unless a miracle happens. We went in too steep on an investment and had a few liquidity problems. After that your dad tried to turn things around with some share purchases, but there was an embezzlement scandal, and the group went bust. So we bet everything on Winchester. We closed deals with suppliers and construction companies in advance so our pitch was more competitive than Trish Coldwell’s. But it was no good. She kicked us out of the race, and now the money’s gone. Along with our reputation.”

“How could you have been so reckless as to put all your eggs in one basket?” I’d only ever known my parents as savvy business-people who would never have taken such a big risk. At least before I’d gone to England—and that was probably part of it. “It’s because of Valerie, isn’t it? You went up against Trish Coldwell because of her?”

“The woman humiliated us, Helena!” my mother hissed. “In front of our friends, our business partners, the whole world. We needed a win against her to get back in the game. We did everything we could.”

And lost it all. I raked a hand through my hair and took a step forward, but my dress kept getting in the way. It was only yesterday that I’d turned up at Jess’s door with nowhere to go with my grief, but it seemed like years ago.

My mother’s phone rang, and she answered in a panic. She said a few words, Lincoln and I listening in tensely, before hanging up again.

“Your father is awake. I’m going to see him.”

“We’re coming too,” I said quickly.

“No.” She shook her head. “Just me for now.”

I could have screamed, the way she still cared about keeping up appearances. We were completely finished anyway; why couldn’t Lincoln and I at least go and see him in the hospital?

“Len, I know what you’re thinking.” My mother gave me an exhausted look. “But if your father really did walk into the street in a drunken stupor, he’ll be ashamed about it. It’ll be better if I go alone first.”

I said nothing, staying behind with my brother while she frantically got her things together and left. For a long time we just stood there, and I realized Trish was right. My family was right on the brink; my father had even taken a step over the edge. We’re ruined, unless a miracle happens—that’s what my mother had said. A miracle was what we needed. One where Trish Coldwell pulled out of the Winchester plot and let my parents have it.

“I should get changed,” I told Lincoln, who nodded, falling onto the sofa and closing his eyes in resignation.

“Sure, go ahead.” I could only hazard a guess at everything he’d been through in recent years, everything he’d sacrificed for our family. Not least his free will over who he was allowed to love. But maybe that was our lot. Maybe we Westons were simply destined to be unhappy.

For a brief moment I considered letting Lincoln in on everything. Telling him about Trish’s offer and what she’d demanded in return. But I knew it would only hurt him even more. So I said nothing and went up to my room, closing the door behind me and leaning back against it. I let out a deep breath, and all the emotions of the last few hours began to flood in: love, happiness, fear, hate, worry, sadness. But I held them off, at least for a little while longer. I had to be a Weston, had to function. So the name would live on in the future.

I reached into my bag and pulled out Trish Coldwell’s business card, along with my phone, clutching both hesitantly in my hands. But no matter how much I wished for another way out, there wasn’t one. I had to decide: my family or Jess. And although it tore my heart in two to think I might never see him again, never touch him, kiss him, or hear him call me Fair Helen… I’d already made my decision. I couldn’t be so selfish that I would put my own happiness over and above my family’s. That was what Valerie had done, and it hadn’t just killed her—it had led to this whole dumpster-fire situation in the first place.

And so there I stood, in my room, and for the very first time since she died, I was furious at my sister. For leaving me alone with this enormous mess that meant I had to destroy the one thing I wanted more than anything else on the planet.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and tapped out the number on the card, taking a shaky breath as it rang.

“Hello?” Trish answered after a brief pause.

“Hello, it’s… it’s Helena Weston.” I could hardly breathe, but I forced myself to do it anyway. “I’m ready to accept your offer.”

“I thought so,” she said. She didn’t ask why I’d changed my mind. Why should she? She’d known what the score was with my family this whole time. She probably even knew what had happened to my father. But if that was the case, not a single word of commiseration crossed her lips. Just cold, hard facts. “The conditions are as follows: I will let your family have the Winchester plot in exchange for your telling Jessiah that it’s over between you two. After that, you will not see him, will not call him, will never speak to him again.” She said the words with no emotion whatsoever, and all the while mine threatened to overwhelm me. Tears ran down my cheeks, but I balled my free hand into a fist in my tulle dress so hard it hurt, and didn’t make a sound. Trish continued. “You will not show up at his door out of the blue, and you will take steps to ensure that he doesn’t show up at yours. If you should break any of these conditions or tell him about our arrangement, I will find a way to ensure your family become social and fiscal outcasts, once and for all. And just so we are clear—I will know if you break them. Am I understood?”