Page 64 of Everyone Is Lying to You

“Should we be bad?” I giggled, pretending I was as squiffy as he was. “Should we order the chocolate cake?”

He placed his hand on my bare thigh then and it took every ounce of resolve inside me not to pull away like I’d been burned.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to be bad with you.”

We ordered the cake. I got an espresso. He got a whiskey despite the early hour.

“So are you going to tell me why we’re really here?” he asked, leaning in even closer.

“I am.” I looked him straight in the eye, as sober as I’d ever been.

“Does it involve going somewhere after this?”

“I want to talk about my children first,” I finally said as I hit the record button on my phone in my lap.

“Get them on the record,” Olivia instructed when we made our plans. “Make them admit it. Then we can use it against them. We can get them to do whatever we want. The emails might not be enough.”

“What about your kids?” Marsden mumbled.

“Well, maybe I should call them our children.” That was the line I’d practiced over and over in my head. And I knew it would be the one time I said it in my entire life, because my children were not his. No matter what. No matter if Rider was left-handed like him, no matter that Alice had his strawberry-blond hair, that Willow had asthma that was likely genetic.

All the swagger melted out of him then. His face went from a ruddy pink to the color of wet concrete.

“What did Gray tell you?”

“Nothing. But I know the truth and I want you to tell me how you did it.”

I thought his hubris would shine through then, that he would be happy and drunk enough to brag, but he clammed up. He stood to leave. I was desperate.

“I’m here to make a deal,” I said. “I don’t want you in their lives. I don’t want Gray in their lives. I never want anyone to find out about this for as long as they live. Do you hear me?”

His eyes narrowed into slits. I could see the gears turning slowly behind them. What my husband, Marsden, and Dr.Carmichael did was illegal, unethical, and entirely immoral. They deserved to rot in jail for the rest of their lives. They deserved worse for how they had violated my body and my children’s bodies. But I didn’t want any of it to be public. I couldn’t let it be my children’s legacy.

I reached out to grab his arm. “I’ll tell Veronica,” I croaked in a strangled voice. I hated myself for sounding so desperate. He had barely said a word. I had played all my cards for nothing. I had no confession.

Marsden plastered a massive smile on his face, and I cringed when I noticed his dimples looked exactly like Alice’s. Would I ever be able to look at my children and not see this vile man? He glanced around the room and then pulled out his wallet to drop money on the table. Another power move.

He whispered so only I could hear it. “Don’t fuck with me, Rebecca. I’ll destroy you.”

I knew that he meant it. I knew I had to find a way to destroy him first. The clock was ticking.

***

I confronted Gray next. The children were off at an annual checkup in the city that I had hastily scheduled and asked Kiki to take them to.

It was a Thursday, but I told Stacy not to come. Media day would have to wait.

Gray and I had breakfast together, something we hadn’t done in years, just the two of us alone. It was almost nice. Or at least it looked that way. He made me pancakes like he did when I wasfirst pregnant with Alice, smothered in thick butter made right there on our farm. I wanted him to be calm when I confronted him. I even considered leading him up to our bedroom to use sex to lull him into submission, but every time I looked up at him I choked back bile so thick I worried I would gag and give myself away.

I had to scare him, catch him off guard.

So I lied.

“I’m pregnant,” I told him through a perfect smile. My eyes never left his. What would he do? What would he think? He had accepted James as his own, but another one?

“Are you sure?” he stuttered.

“Positive.” I placed my hand angelically on my belly. “Why do you look so surprised, Gray?” When our eyes met, I allowed my gaze to harden.

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