Page 82 of Moonlit Hideaway
“Just go.” His last words rang in her ears as he turned his face to the wall, sealing his rejection. It hurt and tore her to pieces, but if she was thinking straight, he was right. As long as she was married to Marco, she needed to stay as far away from Hank, Emma, and Hattokwa Island as she could.
There would be no duet at the festival, no bobbing for Pink Lady apples with Hank, no singing on the sound in theSea Melody, and no crabbing among the seagrass or inner tubing in the harbor. Her future required a high level of diplomacy as she navigated between her family and enemies.
The only hope she had was if Marco was incapacitated, perhaps remaining in a coma and moving to a care home, or…
Sierra stepped out of the elevator into the sterile silence of the ICU ward. The aggressive air conditioning raised goosebumps on her bare arms, and the shiny floors reflected the monotonous beige walls and airlocked doors shielding the unfortunate residents plugged into machinery.
The nurses looked up from their station. Their eyes widened as they recognized her.
“Sierra Rayne,” a young nurse gushed. “Or should I call you Mrs. Garrison? We’ve been told you were on your way.”
“Sierra will do,” she replied evenly.
“We’re all fans of yours,” the nurse said. “I’m Nina, and I’m Mr. Garrison’s nurse. He’s showing signs of coming out of the coma. The doctor will be by to give you more details, but it’ll be good for him to hear your voice. Come along with me.”
The door slid open with a push of a button, and Sierra braced herself. Inside, Marco lay motionless on the bed with tubes taped to his face. A ventilator whooshed rhythmically, pumping air into his lungs, and monitors flashed with numbers and jagged lines.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Nina said with false cheer. “Make yourself at home.”
Sierra barely registered the closing door, and the ensuing silence was broken only by the machines keeping the monster alive. Even in his repose, he reeked menace, and no acting skill in her repertoire could mask the disgust roiling in her gut. He’drefused to save Hank from the churning riptides. Why would she care if he made a full recovery or not?
She shivered in the cold, sterile room. There was no love or care in her heart for Marco. If anything, he got what he deserved. If only she could have listened to Hank and taken witness protection. Sure, she would have had to give up her singing career, but now, in the light of a harsh new day, she’d rather cut out her vocal cords and lose her voice than relive the hurt and betrayal etched on Hank’s dear face. All she wanted was to be back in Hank’s arms, sitting with him on the porch, sipping iced tea and singing with Emma. She didn’t need the glamour and the glitz. She could be excited about simpler things—an impromptu song at Maggie’s Mugshots or jumping on hay bales and rocking out the barn.
As she stood there, unable to think of a single thing to say to Marco, her phone buzzed.
It was her lawyer, Jonathan Goldstein.
“Congratulations are in order,” the lawyer’s booming voice pounded her eardrums, and she glanced at Marco, wondering if he heard. “Shall I call you Mrs. Garrison?”
“Sierra will be fine,” she replied. “What’s up?”
“I spoke to the FBI this morning, and I have good news. All the businesses your father left you were legit. That includes the Crystal Coliseum in Vegas, the Golden Sphinx in Atlantic City, and a chain of resorts worldwide. He’s kept his nose clean. There’s not a tax record out of order.”
“That’s good. How about Mr. Garrison’s businesses?”
“Ah, those… well, I’m technically not Mr. Garrison’s attorney, so I’ll let you speak to her. However, I did notice a discrepancy concerning a land purchase he made recently.”
“Oh? Which one?”
Jonathan cleared his throat in a loud rumble. “It seems he used your land development company to buy a parcel onHattokwa Island. I have instructions to transfer it to joint ownership.”
“I don’t think Marco is in the position to sign any paperwork,” Sierra said. “Are you saying he used my money to buy the land?”
“Apparently so, but your father did appoint him as the CEO of your businesses, so he is entitled to make business decisions.”
“Last night, you mentioned that if Marco is incapacitated, I’m the one who makes the business decisions.”
“That’s correct, or you can delegate it to one of your employees,” the lawyer said.
“That won’t be necessary. About that land purchase on Hattokwa, I’d like you to call the Hattokwa Preservation Society and donate the land to them to preserve the island’s natural environment, heritage, and culture. I want to turn Cedar Point into a nature preserve named Baxter’s Point. There will be no development on the entire parcel besides hiking trails, picnic tables, a small amphitheater, and a few campgrounds. Any existing building on the site will be designated historical. I’m nominating Hank Whitman to be on the board of the nature preserve to start, and I will appoint additional board members once we get the title transferred.”
“Are you sure?” Jonathan exclaimed. “I heard that property could propel Hattokwa into the next Hilton Head.”
“Since I’m the owner, I would also like you to fire the CEO of all my businesses. I intend to run them myself and hire my own people.”
“Is Mr. Garrison still in a coma? His lawyer is on the other line.”
“Yes, he’s unresponsive.” Sierra looked over with narrowed eyes. Sweat rolled down Marco’s face, and his eyelids twitched as if he were trying to express himself. “In any case, I’m the owner, and I have full rights now that I’ve married.”
