Page 8 of Wanted

She looks at me like I slapped her and the nurse chooses this moment to intervene.

“I think we should take this discussion outside, Mr. Kral needs quiet.”

We both look at each other, ready to continue this duel of titans.

We go out into the hall, it’s just a few steps, but it feels like a journey.

“I don’t know who you are or where you came from, but you need to go.” Mrs. Kral has said those words in a mellow tone, but I can’t help but notice they were more a warning than a mere suggestion.

“I have every right to be here and nobody, not even you, can request me to leave.”

“We’ll see about that,” she says before turning to a man in a black suit standing by the door of the room. “Tom, get her out of here.”

Chapter Four

Someone puts a hand on my arm, and it isn’t until that moment, I realize there is another person here. A beautiful woman with long dark hair, impeccable taste in clothes, and the owner of brown eyes who is looking at me full of concern.

“Johanna,” she says to Lionel’s mother, but her gaze is still glued on me. “I think we should take a moment and let this girl explain what is going on.”

I’m sure those words were said to calm things down, but Mrs. Kral looks like someone slapped her in the face. Hard.

“Catherine,” she says. “I appreciate your good intentions. I know your husband is a very dear friend to my son, but this is a matter that only concerns the family.”

The brunette—Catherine—seems to have been prepared for that answer, because it doesn’t seem to bother her, she doesn’t even blink. Instead, she stands firm, her hand still on my arm and determination in her eyes.

“Look, Mrs. Kral, I understand your confusion, that makes two of us. I had to find out through the news what happened to my husband. I’ve been traveling all day, and I’m tired. I would like to speak to the doctor, no one has told me anythi—”

Johanna Kral opens her eyes, surprised by what I just told her. It’s the truth, whether she likes it or not.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” she cuts me off. “But you’re just a liar—a con artist. My son isn’t married, I would know. He’s my son!”

She can think what she wants, but in this case, the liar here isn’t me.

“Look, I didn’t know of your existence until today. Lionel told me he grew up in the system and was nev—”

She opens her mouth, clearly offended by my words.

“Of course he was adopted, by us.”

Well, I can see that now.

“Lionel and I got married in Louisville at the end of the summer. I’ve been living in Carrollton my whole life.”

I tell her part of our story as a peace offering. I couldn’t care less that she doesn’t like me. The only thing that matters now is Lionel’s health.

“Kentucky? What was my son doing in Kentucky?”

That is a question I also want to know the answer to.

Catherine’s hand on my arm tightens, silently inviting me to continue.

“I asked myself the same question when I found out what happened, and in LA of all places. He told me he worked in the Texas ar—”

Johanna holds up a hand, stopping my words, clearly upset about the situation.

“Stop, stop this nonsense,” she tells me. “My son has never been to Kentucky, let alone to meet a woman from there and marry her. His life is here in California with his family, his home, his business.”

I’d laugh if it weren’t for the fact that we both have been deceived.

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