Page 114 of Collateral Claim

Charlotte’s eyes are saucers.

“Your turn. Hurry up before we lose courage.”

“A fling I had the summer Mom told me that Josh came to ask for my hand in marriage.”

“You mean you slept with someone as an act of rebellion?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you mean to get pregnant?”

Charlotte shrugs. “I didn’t think about pregnancy. He was hot. I knew him from before, from the beach. They would never let me marry him. Besides, the guy sailed off somewhere, so I was his farewell fuck.” She gets a wistful look. “I wonder what would have happened if I’d stayed with him. I wonder if I would be happy.”

“Are you not happy?”

“Beatrice is happy,” she says. “She has access to the best schools.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I want to know whathedid to you.”

I shake my head. I can’t talk about Endo, or I’ll run from the deal I made with Wilfred. My life is at stake here, and nowCharlotte is involved, and there is no way I’ll put her in harm’s way if Wilfred takes a hostage to get me back to the altar.

He wants my father’s fortune. He wants the criminal empire my father built. He’s not a good man, but he didn’t force himself on me once he secured the deal, so I want to keep it that way. I want him to feel secure in his position. We are getting married. He will inherit all the wealth he wants.

Tears now pour out of my eyes, but I anticipated this, so I wore waterproof mascara. Even so, smears appear under my eyes.

“Your makeup is melting.” Charlotte dabs my face with a tissue.

“What was his name?” I ask. I want to know if time heals. I want to know if, after almost a decade, Charlotte can say his name without having to call himhim. I want to know if she can say it without crying or regret. If she can be happy just for the memories they shared.

She pauses. “Lenny. It was Lenny.”

My sister never got over that guy. Great. I cry harder.

Chapter 47

The wedding

Scarlett

Wilfred and my dad organized the wedding, which will be held on a private island in the Mediterranean. Five hundred people are in attendance. Most of them arrived with armed guards, gossiping about me marring Wilfried instead of Endo.

The women who planned the event seemed terrified to make a mistake. One of them sweated profusely every time we spoke, while I suppressed the urge to ask her if she had any medical conditions we could discuss.

Many times during our conversations, I remembered the failed attempt at the wedding plans between Fiada and me. I asked for the limited things I remembered Fiada and I talking about. The flower arrangements, for example. It’s a perfectly traditional wedding with beautiful flowers. Smiling people expect my father to walk me down the aisle.

Nobody expects a bride wearing a mourning gown and a black veil.

I step out of the dressing room and walk toward my father, who’s waiting for me on the other side of the path. We should meet in the middle and walk toward Wilfred, who stands at the altar, along with the priest, who my dad or one of his guests blackmailed into presiding over my wedding.

The priest sweats as profusely as my wedding planner. If he overheats during the ceremony, I could escort him to the nearest hospital, where I could attend to him for the duration of his stay.

My dad looks nice in a tuxedo. The moment he sees me and realizes it is actually me under the black veil, his eyes widen and his face pales. Since he’s still in shock as I approach him, I hug him.

“Surprise, surprise,” I say.

“What are you wearing?” he hisses in my ear.