Chapter 6 Amber

Amber stretched and breathed in deeply, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. It was only six a.m., still early, but she had a lot to do before Jackson's release next month. She nudged the leg next to hers with her foot.

"Get up. I need you out of here."

The man mumbled something incoherent, then rolled over on top of her. "Morning. You don't really want me to leave just yet, do you?" He began to kiss her neck, slowly working his way down.

She was tempted to give in, but common sense prevailed, and she pushed him off her and got up. These past seven months with Jackson gone had allowed Amber to indulge herself and she'd taken full advantage. There was nothing quite like the feel of a twenty-one-year-old body. She loved being with men closer to her own age. Jackson was closing in on fifty, and let's face it, he had been a one-trick pony at best. She stood by the bed, naked, and waited until Marcus followed suit.

"The staff will be here at eight. Can't risk anyone seeing you." The truth was Amber had in her employ a live-in nanny for Jackson Junior who was well aware of the young studs parading through Amber's bedroom, but Marcus didn't need to know that.

He smirked and walked over to where she was standing. Amber's eyes rested a moment on his flat abs then took in the rest of him at full attention. Grabbing her, he pulled her close and she felt her resolve melt away. "Well, maybe just one more time…"

Once Marcus left, and after Amber showered and dressed, she peeked into Jackson Junior's room to find him still asleep. She lingered for a moment, watching him. He was such a beautiful child, and she enjoyed the compliments she got when they were out. But the temper tantrums and stubbornness made her want to scream. She knew it was normal for a two-year-old, but it didn't make it any easier to deal with. If she didn't have a nanny, she would completely lose her mind. She reached out and pushed a curl from his forehead. This is how she liked him, sweet and docile and sleeping.

She turned away and headed downstairs where she poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee, carrying it to the deck overlooking the Sound. It was a gorgeous May morning, and she inhaled the intoxicating salt air. She'd never tired of their Connecticut estate on the water, had fallen in love with the magnificent waterfront home the first time she'd seen it, when she was just a poor little helper bee groveling at Daphne's feet. Back then, she'd never been inside a house so grand, one in which dazzling views of the sea beckoned from wide windows and French doors. It never ceased to thrill her when she walked through its doors, knowing that it all belonged to her—and to Jackson as well, of course. It would all be changing now, however. She no longer needed Jackson or his money or his house, because now there was fourteen million dollars parked in an offshore account in her son's name. There was no reason to stay here with Jackson—theirs was a marriage in name only and he wouldn't miss her any more than she would miss him. When he came home from prison in June, he would find her gone. She was finally free to be herself, to take what she wanted when she wanted without kissing anyone's ass anymore. She'd never marry again, well, unless she met someone with billions, then maybe. But she definitely had enough money now to figure out how to parlay that into more. She was young and smart and with the right investments, she'd be sitting pretty for the rest of her life.

She rose from the lounge chair and went inside to her office. Well, she called it her office, but it was so much more than that. She unlocked the door and entered the space that was strictly her own. At once, the serene interior calmed her. She loved this room and all it contained. There was no clutter, nothing out of place. Every item had been carefully chosen by her, and it was the one room in the house where she felt most herself. Her books covered an entire wall from floor to ceiling. After years of having to borrow books from the library, the thrill of being able to buy any book she wanted never dulled for her. She made notes in their margins, underlined passages, inked her name inside each cover. They were her treasure…and her passport to the world.

The art in the room was simple and chosen for the artists, not the art itself. Women who were self-taught, like élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun and Augusta Savage, who'd had to fight for recognition and admission to academies and art societies. They were a source of encouragement to Amber to keep striving despite setbacks and roadblocks. The entire room was a paean to talent, intellect, and determination.

Sitting at her desk, she breathed in the soothing scent of sandalwood and oud, smiling to herself. Who would have thought it would be so easy? Mr. Stones had been a bit of a challenge, but the rest had been smooth sailing. Her next step had been deciding where to go. Definitely out of the country, definitely Europe, but where? She finally decided that the best—and most fun—plan would be to figure that out once she'd traveled around the continent a bit, and so she'd booked a first-class ticket to Paris. She'd start there, visit a few luxury fashion houses, and dine on the Seine. One entire week would be dedicated to visiting the Louvre, and perhaps she would be there in time to see Delacroix's famous Liberty Leading the People before its removal for restoration. Just the thought of it made her shiver with delight. All her travel documents were in order, and the only thing left was composing a note she would leave for Jackson. She picked up the pen, thought for a minute, and then began to write the letter she would leave on their bed.

Jackson,

If you are reading this, you have already been told or gleaned the fact that I am gone. I'm sure you're as elated as I am that we are no longer together. Of course, your elation will be short-lived when you discover that your little horde of diamonds was used to finance my new life far away from you and Bishops Harbor. How kind and thoughtful of you to provide me with such a wonderful parting gift. In exchange for your generosity, I leave you little Jax.

I know your first instinct will be to go into search and destroy mode, but you would be wise to think twice about trying to find me. Don't forget that I know about the lies you told and who you paid to have Daphne committed all those years ago. It would be a shame if you forced me to come back and divulge that information. Unless, of course, you're missing life in prison.

So, that's it. Thanks again. You've been a real gem!

Amber

She slid the folded letter into an envelope, sealed it, and wrote Jackson's name on the front, then rose from her desk and left the room.

The nanny, Chloe, was sitting at the kitchen table feeding Jax, who was now awake and in his high chair.

"Good morning." Amber went to her son and kissed the top of his head. "How's my sweet boy this morning?"

He giggled, tapping the tray with the palm of his hand. "Mama."

She ruffled his hair and turned to Chloe. "I have a few errands to run this morning. I shouldn't be too long."

"Okay. I'll take Jax for a walk in a little while and then put him down for a nap later," Chloe said.

"Great." Amber nodded absently as she picked up her handbag and went to the garage. Her flight was in just two days and there were a few last-minute things she still needed to take care of. Her first stop was the bank where she exchanged dollars for euros, enough to see her through the airports, ground transportation, and tips. Once in France, of course, she would open an account there and transfer some of the Barbados money. She'd made a reservation at an Accor hotel, an anonymous and ubiquitous low-budget chain where Jackson would never think to look for her. She didn't love the idea of staying there until she got her bearings, but she reminded herself that she had the rest of her life to live in luxury.

From the bank she went to the private vault company where she'd rented a safe-deposit box that was accessible 24/7. Her cash would be safe there until she needed to grab it. Best of all, no keys that she would have to hide, but instead, a code to unlock it. Last, the photography studio to pick up the professional portrait she'd had done of herself with Jax. This would be put in a special album for him along with a letter from Amber to her son explaining why she was forced to leave his father. Something for him to remember her by. She knew Jackson would trash it before Jax was old enough to see and understand it, but she'd make sure to take her own photos of the album and her letter against the day Jax came looking for her. Then she would show him the proof of how excruciatingly heartbreaking it had been to leave him behind. It didn't occur to her to think too hard about why, in actuality, it was rather easy to leave him. After all, your feelings were your feelings and there was nothing you could do about it. Why feel guilty? Amber had never understood the sentimentality of motherhood. The only reason she'd even had Jax was to snare Jackson. Sure, he was a cute baby and she cared about him. But to give up everything she'd worked so hard for to stick around to change diapers and wipe his nose? No thank you. That's what nannies were for. When he was older, and capable of intelligent conversation, then she'd reconnect. Maybe take him on some trips with her. But for now, it wouldn't really matter to him anyhow. Kids didn't even remember anything before the age of five.

By the time Amber had finished everything on her list it was two o'clock and she headed home, satisfied that everything was in place.

Amber didn't hear any annoying baby talk coming from the kitchen so Jax must still be napping. She climbed the stairs to the bedroom carrying all her packages. When she opened the door to the room, she gasped and took a step back. Jackson! Sitting on the bed, smiling, leaning against the headboard with his arms clasped behind his head. Her note was crumpled in a ball on the floor.

"Just read your little love letter. I'm so glad I was able to come say goodbye in person." His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled in a snarl.

"Jackson…? How are you here?" She dropped the bags. Her panic was so acute that it was difficult for her to breathe.

"Early release for good behavior, my dear. But you don't seem very happy to see me."

"Of course I'm glad for you. I know you hated it there. So, you came from the prison straight to the house? The note was just a joke. I thought you'd find it amusing." She struggled to come up with something, anything, to make him believe her, but came up short.

Jackson flew up from the bed and stormed toward her until he was just inches from her face. "Do you think I'm fucking stupid? I saw the greedy look on your face that day you visited. You couldn't get out of there fast enough to get to that boat and see what was hiding there." Now his face was almost touching hers, one hand around her throat. "I found your travel documents. I guess the party I wanted is off the table. You planning a little trip?"

"Jackson, you're hurting me." She tugged at his wrist.

"You're going to hurt a lot more if you don't produce those diamonds right now," he hissed, his grip tightening.

When she started to choke, he finally let go. "Where are they?" he said.

"They're safe, okay?"

"Where the hell are they?"

"Where did you get them?" She was stalling for time.

"None of your damn business. They belong to me. Now tell me where they are."

"I sold them," she said.

"You what?" he screamed at her.

"I sold them to a broker in New York. I was paid well. Just a speck more than fourteen million. More than I'd anticipated. Apparently, there was a bidding war over the Fancy Intense blue diamond from South Africa. Extremely rare. But you probably knew that, yes?"

All the color drained from his face, and he said nothing, just staring at her, his eyes glassy. He dropped onto a chair, his left hand cradling his head. "You greedy bitch! You have no idea what you've done," he hissed.

When he finally looked up at her, Amber was shocked. She'd never seen fear etched so intensely across Jackson's face. "What do you mean?"

His expression changed to one of undisguised fury. "Never mind. Where's the money, Amber?"

"It's very safe and offshore. No one will find out about it."

He exhaled. "I want the account number. Now."

She tilted her head, suddenly feeling her courage return. "And why, exactly, would I give that to you? I can cut you in, though."

"What the hell do you mean you'll cut me in? Enough of this stupid game, Amber. The money belongs to me." Jackson's fists were balled so tight that his knuckles were white. She was amused at his struggle to remain calm.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong. Finders keepers. Possession is…well, you know how the rest of it goes."

He sprang from the chair and lunged at her again, his eyes bulging and his hands once more around her neck. "I'll fucking kill you."

Amber began to cough, trying to get air as she pushed against him. She kneed him in the groin, and suddenly he letgo.

She bent over, trying to catch her breath. When she was able to speak again, she glared at him. "If I die, those numbers die with me."

Jackson was delusional if he thought he'd ever get his hands on her money. He could examine every piece of paper in the house, search her phone, and explore her computer. The numbers existed only in her head. It was during the period when Amber had studied the works of ancient Greek playwrights and philosophers that she'd discovered Simonides, a Greek lyric poet born in 556 BC, who developed a memory technique that has come to be called the Method of Loci or the "Memory Palace," an effective method of information memorization and retention. You visualize a specific location in a physical space, like a house, and put a piece of information in each room. Then when you need to recall, you "walk" through the house and retrieve the information. She'd used this process often, and now, with the account and box numbers memorized, the "word house" would shield her money from Jackson's grasping hands.

Jackson gave her a scorching look. "This is not finished. And you're not going anywhere. I took your passport. And don't forget, one call to the Missouri police department and your ass will be arrested."

"You do that, and every lie you told about Daphne and every doctor and judge you paid off will be made public. Not to mention the little video I took that night you attacked me. You'll be back in prison so fast your head will spin." She returned his look with a defiant one. "Looks like we're at a stalemate."

It was time to change tactics. She softened her voice. "Okay, look. We're both reasonable people here. I'm sure we can plan to work this out in a way that's agreeable to both of us."

"What do you suggest?"

"Let's split the money and go our separate ways. Think of it as a severance package for me."

He was quiet for a long moment. "Here's the deal. You stay and throw me a welcome home party. I need to reestablish my presence here. I'll let you go but not yet. I'm sick of being married to you anyway. But…you're going to help me get Daphne back. It's time for her little idyll in California to come to an end."

Her mouth dropped open. "Daphne? What the hell are you talking about?"

He smiled. "Sit down. I'll fill you in."