Page 61 of What the Wife Knew

“Richmond wanted to know who you were and why you were targeting him. Once I took over your representation I figured it was better that I not know.” Elias smiled for the first time since I woke up after the attack. “Clients don’t appreciate my looking into their backgrounds.”

“Funny how that works.” There wasn’t anything amusing about any of this, but I was trying to hold it together.

Elias ran right over that. “Now that you know August is in the area be extra vigilant.”

“No more jaunts to the mailbox. Got it.”

Elias glanced into the hall. “Your mother. What do I need to know?”

I appreciated the expert lawyering that went into that innocuous question. I wasn’t in the mood to watch my words, so I didn’t try. The only concession I made to her being in the house was to lower my voice to a soft whisper. “Don’t let the pretty face fool you.”

“I can tell she’s difficult.”

“Toxic.” And she was fine with turning me into roadkill.

He made a noise that sounded like humming. “Do you trust her? Will she protect you if this all goes to hell?”

He didn’t write me off as dramatic. Another new sensation. “No.”

“Any chance she attacked you at the mailbox? She was in this house.”

“No.” But the question had moved in and out of my head over the last hour. I wanted to believe no. The direction of the attack was wrong. She weighed less than I did. Unless she’d attended expert-level self-defense training she wouldn’t have been able to keep me from seeing her face. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she used my money to hire someone to keep me in line.

Elias sat back in his chair. “Seems like a lot of people want to hurt you.”

“Weird, right? I’m lovely.”

He picked up his mug again. “You’re a survivor.”

For days, sometimes weeks, I pretended to be. “I’m an escapee.”

The mug stopped halfway to his mouth. “Is there a difference?”

A huge and, for me, insurmountable one. “I didn’t survive. I ran. The problem with running is it’s not permanent. Dodging and hiding become your whole existence because the escape is never final. The pain finds you and dumps you back in that dark place until you build enough resilience to run again.”

Elias looked worried now. “That’s how you view your life? Yourself?”

“That’s who and what I am.” I didn’t see that changing.

Chapter Forty-One

Her

Present Day

Sitting at the kitchen island the next morning with a bag of frozen peas clasped to my sore ribs made me hate every television commercial filled with smiling families and steaming coffee. Fake PR bullshit. The over-the-counter medicine didn’t do much for the pain or my mood. Watching Mom flit from the refrigerator to the stove as if she lived here didn’t help either.

Neither did the text I received a few minutes ago. It came from Portia, which raised all sorts of questions about how she got the number and why anyone thought giving it to her was a good idea. She asked about my injury and said she was nearby and would like to stop in.

Kathryn’s stink was all over this.

Knowing that a setup loomed, I should have said no. A thousand excuses to push Portia off popped into my head. I ignored all of them. No idea why except that Portia’s obvious discomfort around her mom—in part because of the inevitable mother-daughter clash that came at her age and partly due to her grief over her dad—pricked at thebeen therememories I tried to suppress.

Fighting off empathy qualified as my superpower. I’d nurtured the skill for years. I could wrestle any form of caring into submission.Thanks, Mom.But spending so much time with her recently and reliving the memories of some of her greatest hits kicked my denial’s ass.

Portia deserved better. She didn’t know that or know me but maybe that bit of distance made it easier for her to try to connect. Or she was just like her parents and had me fooled. Not sure yet.

I texted back to alert her to the invading press and to let me know when she pulled up so I could let her in without waiting. Now the moment had arrived, and I had to tell Mom. The doorbell bonged before I could issue the warning.

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