Chapter 43 Daphne

"Let's have a baby." The words had seemed to leap from my mouth as we stood on the deck last night, the words I now believe had saved my life. The shock on Jackson's face mirrored my own surprise at what I'd uttered, but I pushed on. "It's my fault you left me for Amber. You wanted a son, but I was too selfish. I was worried about gaining weight. That's why I hid the fact that I was using an IUD. But when she got pregnant, it about killed me."

His hand slid from my back and both hands reached for my shoulders, turning me toward him.

"If this is a trick…"

I shook my head. "It's not. Look, I'm sorry about that text. I promise, we haven't been intimate. The truth is I haven't been attracted to anyone since we've split." That much was mostly true, but not for the reasons Jackson would believe. "I'm ready to take my share of the blame for the disintegration of our marriage. I want to rebuild the trust."

I could tell he was still wary, could see it in his eyes. "Do you swear you haven't had sex with him?"

"Yes," I answered immediately. My mind raced, trying to figure out how to make him believe I wanted a child with him and keep him out of my bed at the same time. What the hell had I done?

"A baby. A new start for us." He nodded. "We can start tonight. Here, on the boat."

"But the meds. That could be bad for a baby and I have to take them or else when Hannah tests me, I'll get in trouble. We have to wait until I'm able to stop the meds. Maybe you can talk to Hannah, get her to wean me off? Say I'm doing better."

I'd been taking Seroquel for two weeks. It's wreaked havoc on my stomach and shrouded my mind and senses in a fog. By early afternoons, I'm so tired that I have to take a nap. We see Hannah on Thursdays and that's when she checks my medication levels. Otherwise, I'd do whatever I could to not take it. At first, Jackson insisted I take the pills in front of him, but now that he sees the accuracy of the tests, he trusts me to take it on my own. As for DCF, the OTC hearing appeal was postponed due to some clerical error.

He put his arms around me and pulled me closer to him. "There's no reason we can't enjoy each other in the meantime. We can use protection."

I prayed he'd heed my next words. "I want it to be perfect. I haven't showered or, you know, prepared. Let's go home. We'll plan our reunion for this coming weekend."

"When?"

"Saturday night. Let me spend the day thinking about you. Let's have a romantic dinner. Send the kids to spend the night with Meredith. I want to be able to be free with you."

"Meredith? You're not friends with her anymore, right?"

I reached up and stroked his face, mustering up all my acting skills. "She's apologized. She realizes that I'm happy now and she promised to be supportive. Besides, the girls love her, and it would give us our privacy. She's even offered to take Jax. I remember the things you liked. We could even go get some new toys to use." As the words left my lips, the feeling in my stomach grew sicker.

He gave me a salacious smile. "Daphne, you little minx. I like the sound of that."

Tonight's the night, and I haven't taken the Seroquel for three days—I took my last dose on Wednesday so I'd test fine at our appointment. Meredith picked up the girls and Jax an hour ago, so it's just the two of us, and the kitchen staff who will leave once they've served dinner. Everything is ready. Under my bed is a bag. A car rented in another name waits for me at the Bishops Harbor train station. He'll think I took Metro-North to New York and from there took a train to D.C., since I've booked three tickets to Washington on my credit card to throw him off. Meredith will have prepped the kids on everything, telling them the truth so that they'll understand the necessity of going on the run. This is my last chance, and I cannot fail.

I look at the items we picked up earlier and shake my head. Jackson's gotten kinkier, but it will work to my advantage. I put on the black leather bustier and attach the sheer hose to the garters, then slip the red silk dress over my head and choose the highest pair of Louboutin's from the closet. Taking a deep breath, I walk out of the room and downstairs where Jackson awaits out on the deck.

He smiles as I approach and hands me a glass of red wine.

"I'm not sure I should drink on the medicine," I say.

"A teeny bit won't hurt."

I accept the glass and take a small sip. "How soon can we eat and get rid of everyone?" I lift my dress up to reveal what's underneath.

"I'll go check."

As soon as he's gone, I pour the crushed pills into his drink and mix it up with the stirrer I've hidden in my cleavage. The white residue doesn't look like it's dissolving all the way, and I stir harder. This has to work. I hear footsteps, and put the glass down, glancing again, and seeing it appears to all be dissolved.

"About twenty minutes till dinner. Come sit down, I have something for you."

We sit on the love seat, and he puts his wine down on the table next to it. He hands me a small package.

"What's this?"

"Open it."

I tear the gold foil. It's a black box and as soon as I see the HW logo, I know what I'm about to find. I open it and see a gleaming cushion-cut ruby ring.

"I-I don't know what to say," I stammer.

He takes the ring from the box and slides it on my finger. "I thought the red was perfect. Symbolizes our passion for each other. A new start with a new ring."

Drink your wine,I want to shout. "Let's toast."

I lift my glass and watch as he takes a sip of his. He makes a face. "This wine is off."

My stomach tightens in dread. What am I going to do now? What if he realizes I tried to dose him, that the acrid taste is because of the pills? I counted on him drinking the wine. Those pills would have knocked him out for hours. My mind is racing, and I desperately try to regroup. We sit down at the table that is set for dinner, and I'm numb with anxiety as the branzino is placed on my plate.

I try to manage an even voice. "Really? I thought it tasted fine."

He takes another long swallow then makes a face. "Let's have our dinner and we'll get a new bottle." He calls to Edgar. "Open a bottle of the Screaming Eagle." He turns back to me. "It's a special occasion after all."

Edgar returns and opens the bottle in front of Jackson, hands him the cork, then pours a small amount into a new wineglass. Jackson sips, nods. "Perfect." Edgar pours a glass for me, then fills Jackson's glass and leavesus.

"Cheers," he says, lifting his glass.

"Cheers," I respond, and we touch glasses. I take another small sip, wishing I could down the whole glass to calm my nerves, but knowing better. We make small talk, and I try keep my mind from wandering.

After the staff withdraws, I swallow my food without tasting it, scrambling to come up with a plan B. An idea comes to me, one that's as much of a long shot as it is distasteful, but I have no other choice.

"I should have brought a sweater out with me, it's chillier than I thought."

Jackson jumps up, the epitome of chivalry. "I'll go grab one for you."

As soon as he goes into the house, I unhook my Apple watch from the back of my garter, scroll to the voice memo app and hit record, then place it on my lap with my napkin loosely on top of it. The sun has gone down and the lighting is low out here, so I'm confident he won't notice.

"Here you go, my dear," Jackson says as he places a sweater around my shoulders.

"Thanks."

We make idle small talk for a few moments. I look over at him. "I need to say something."

"What is it?"

"I know I've fought you on all this, but I realize now that if you hadn't forced my hand we'd have never reconciled."

He smiles. "I'm glad you're finally seeing that."

"I'm surprised, though, that you were able to get Amber to go along. Isn't she jealous that we're getting back together?"

He rolls his eyes. "The only thing Amber cares about is Amber. She was only too eager to make a deal if it meant I would help her get what she wants."

I don't waste time asking what that might be. I appeal to his ego instead. "Well, she's always been brilliant. That's one thing I can't take away from her. She came up with a great plan."

He scoffs. "It wasn't her plan. It was mine."

"So you were the one who figured out how to make it look as though I was neglecting the children? I realize now that you must have drugged the lemonade. But what I don't get is how did you know I'd drink that particular drink?"

He taps his temple. "Think, Daphne. I drugged them all. I put the Klonopin in each drink, with a little vodka in the lemonade, and Bailey's Irish cream in the coffee."

"It was very smart. But what if DCF doesn't clear me? Now that you've drummed up a false case against me, it could backfire. They might tell you that you can't have permanent custody if I'm living here."

"Nonsense. I already have the judge in my pocket. He'll do whatever I ask. You forget that I still have a lot of power in this town."

We finish dinner, and I dawdle over my coffee, silently urging the staff to clean up and get the hell out of here. Finally, Edgar steps outside.

"If you won't be needing anything else this evening, sir?"

"It's fine. Everyone can go."

I take the opportunity to stop the recording while he's distracted talking to Edgar. When I hear the last of the cars drive away, I stand. "I've been waiting all night to get my hands on you," I say.

He gets up and comes toward me, pulling me into an embrace. We kiss and he forces his tongue into my mouth. I close my eyes and remind myself that everything is on the line here. We head back into the house, and I grab his hand.

"Let's go to our old bedroom. I want to reclaim it as my own."

We walk up the stairs and my skin feels clammy, my heart beating furiously. I stop by the bedroom I've been using and scoop up the things we bought earlier that day. When we reach Jackson's bedroom, I stop a moment to take it in. Amber has redone it, of course, and it's just as tasteful as when I lived here, but her decorator used bolder colors. A wave of dizziness overcomes me as all the bad memories of this room come rushing back. I push them aside and tell myself to buck up, I can't lose it now.

I pull the dress up over my shoulders and toss it on the floor. Jackson looks at my leather-clad body with desire. It's now or never. I throw my shoulders back and make my voice strong.

"Strip. Now."

He looks at me in surprise. I pick up the leather whip and crack it a few times. "Did you hear me, slave? Do it." I raise my hand menacingly.

"Yes, mistress," he says, throwing off his shirt and stepping out of his slacks.

I have to be very careful about my next moves. I stare at him, then walk toward him until I'm inches away. "You may undo my garters."

He smiles and reaches for my leg, and I smack his hand with the whip.

"I didn't say when. You must ask first."

"Please, may I undo your garters?" His pupils are hugely dilated, and he gapes at me hungrily.

"Yes."

He does and my stockings fall to my ankles. I step out of my heels. I run a hand over his chest and down his stomach, stopping before his groin. "What do you want me to do?"

"Touch me." His voice is thick with yearning.

"What's the magic word?"

"Please."

I move my hand down and fight my revulsion and caress his hardness, squeezing for a moment. "On the bed," I command.

He walks over to the bed and lies down on his back. I straddle him and he reaches his arms to pull me down.

I smack him again. "Who's the boss?"

"You are," he says with a smirk.

"You're a bad boy. Just for that, I'm going to have to restrain you." I get up and come back with the handcuffs and he yields his wrists to me. I secure them to the bedpost and pull on each hand to make sure they're secure.

He moans in anticipation.

I slide down until I'm straddling him again and he tries to move his body to meet mine. Then I scoot off the bed and grab my dress and shoes.

"What are you doing?"

I should just leave without any explanation but the pent-up fury that's built over the past weeks explodes.

"You narcissistic sociopath. I'm leaving, that's what. You're never going to see me or the girls again. I can't believe you actually thought I'd ever love you again. You make my skin crawl, and if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to prove what a lying, amoral scumbag you truly are."

His face turns crimson, and his eyes are hate-filled. He tries to sit up, furiously jerking against the restraints hindering him. "You treacherous bitch. I'll make you pay for this. You're the one who's never going to see those kids again. I'll make sure you spend the next twenty years in prison for kidnapping. You will—"

I put my hand up. "Shut up. I'm through listening to you."

The last thing I do is to get my iPhone and take some pictures of him. They may come in handy.