CHAPTER TEN

"Why did you do it?" he asked, staring at his wife. "I deserve to know. Why? She was my daughter as well, and you chose to withhold treatments. You told me there was nothing that could be done. All those messages from the doctors, and you said it was nothing to worry about, that you had it handled. Why?"

"I told you and those other horrible people why. No one would ever marry her with that disease. Her future would have been weak, always indoors, unable to travel. No one would want that. She'd be a burden to us, and we'd be pitied by everyone. I don't want that."

"She was our daughter," he frowned. "I had the right to know and the right to make decisions about her health."

"Oh, please! Neither of them are our daughters. We adopted them. We lied about them being sisters. We convinced the magistrate that they were, and we took them home."

"No. You lied about them being sisters. I wasn't for that. I'm not sure how you convinced the orphanage to lie or how you convinced the girls, but I wasn't a part of that. You didn't tell me the details until a year after we'd brought them home."

"You really are na?ve sometimes," she smirked at him. "The orphanage was simple. Donations, darling. Donations that they desperately needed and a little something extra for the headmistress. As for the girls, that took a bit longer, but the head mistress just kept implanting it into their tiny little brains that they were sisters. It was easy."

"I knew you were power-hungry. I knew you wanted to be one of them . I just didn't know how desperately you wanted it."

She flitted around the massive living room, straightening magazines, running her fingers over the tops of furniture, swiping away imaginary dust.

"I need to fire the maids. They're not dusting properly. I'll get a new crew in here as quickly as possible."

"You're not firing anyone," he said, staring at his wife. "Stop trying to change the subject. Do you understand how disturbing this is? How absolutely sick it is to hear this about your own wife? Why did you do all of this?"

"You really are tiring, Randolph. I did this for us. For our future and our future position, more importantly."

He shook his head and poured himself a drink. She was up to something. Something he didn't understand at all.

"Listen carefully to me, Dierdre. My daughter, mine, is coming with her new husband and his family. You will treat them with respect and kindness, or so help me, I will divorce you, and I have all the legal grounds to do so. I lost one daughter. I will not lose another to your absurd ambition and greed."

"Divorce me? You wouldn't dare. You wouldn't want the scandal, and you damn sure wouldn't want to give me half of the estate," she laughed.

"In case you haven't noticed, Dierdre, I'm an old man who isn't going to continue working much longer. I can handle any scandal that comes my way. My reputation and work speak for themselves. Your reputation, however, is not quite as pristine. Others have watched you for years, clawing your way to the top or attempting to."

She glared at him, practically seething with hate and anger.

"You will be kind to them, or you will leave. I've agreed to host this ridiculous gala, but so help me God, if you do one thing out of line, I will end you."

Dierdre straightened her dress, buttoning the jacket. It was an absurdly expensive Dior suit that she didn't need. There were twenty more upstairs that still had the tags on them. But she wanted it. She deserved it.

Grabbing her clutch, she picked up the car keys and headed toward the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm having dinner with some of the ladies in London. I'll be back late. Don't wait up for me."

"Dierdre?" he called out to her.

She stopped, slowly turning with a sweet smile on her face. For a moment, he remembered with fondness the day they met near Oxford.

She was wearing these sexy, tight-cropped white pants with a little black sweater that accentuated her curves. Her beautiful skin and smile made him stop in his tracks, staring at the strange young woman. She was just standing outside the gates as if she were lost.

"Do you have something to say, or may I leave now?" she snapped.

Suddenly, he realized how much he disliked his wife. How much she'd changed from the pretty young girl with the big brown eyes and mocha-colored skin to an old, bitter woman. She was still attractive, but there was nothing pretty about her.

"Remember my words, Dierdre. I have the clout and friends to ruin you." She stared at him for a long moment, then smiled.

"Of course, dear."

"I've been waiting for an hour. Where have you been?" snapped the man.

"Don't yell at me. I've had enough of that from my husband and daughter today," she sneered.

"Well, is she coming?"

"She's coming. With her new husband and his entire family," she scoffed. "I'll be overrun with Americans. Rude, obnoxious, uncouth Americans! I can only imagine what they'll be wearing to my event. I'll be the laughing stock of everyone."

"I hate Americans," said the man. "Will they be staying at the manor house?"

"Dear lord, no," she said, clutching her pearls. "They'll get rooms elsewhere."

"I need to know where. I need to speak to her alone and convince her of what a colossal mistake this has all been. I need her, Dierdre, if this is all going to work."

"I am well aware of what you need," she said with a tight-lipped expression. "You seem to forget that I get to it all first. Not you."

"Tell me, Dierdre," he smirked. "What made you such a cold-hearted, ruthless bitch? You have money. You have the huge mansion and all the property. You've got status. You should be happy, but you're not. Why?"

"Why? What an absurd question. Because there is more. So much more."