Page 2 of Her Wicked Husband (The Huxleys #2)

Fiona

–two months earlier

The SoCal sky is an immaculate blue as the dark mahogany coffin with copper details is lowered into the ground. Only the best for my adoptive father, Zachary Oberman, even in death.

People in black circle around, wearing somber faces and expensive perfumes. A few women let out muffled sobs and sniffles. My eyes remain dry as I stare at the fresh red roses falling on the top of the coffin. I’m not sure what I’m feeling right now, but it isn’t mere grief.

We weren’t close. He only adopted me because his wife couldn’t cope with losing their seven-year-old daughter Finley in a drowning accident, even after a year had passed, and other options weren’t effective. Zachary considered therapy bullshit—a waste of time.

He assessed my frame, coloring and features to make sure they matched Finley’s as closely as possible. He had me sing to make sure I could carry a tune, then instructed an assistant to facilitate the adoption.

He also gave me a long list of things I could and couldn’t do, the most important one being that I must answer to Finley or Finn, whichever his wife preferred, even though he allowed me to keep my given name on paper.

In addition, I was to behave like an angel, just like Finley. I had to act sweet and cute around Sherry, control my attitude and words, study hard so I didn’t bring home bad grades, and never let her worry about me.

Not only that, everything Finley did, I had to do as well, including the violin.

She was almost a prodigy, and Sherry had been proud.

If I couldn’t play, that wouldn’t do for Zachary.

But without Finley’s talent, I had to make up for it with persistence and effort.

Zachary said he’d provide the best of instruction to mold me—and then delivered exactly that.

I strove to meet every demand, terrified of coming up short and understanding that if I didn’t pass muster, I’d be sent back.

I’d overheard too many adults’ careless whispers and realized that, at the age of seven, I was too old to be desirable for adoption.

People want cute babies, not skinny, awkward girls.

I didn’t want to be sent back again, like some mistaken online purchase, and was terrified at the prospect of being passed around among foster homes.

The one that took me in after my first adoption failed was awful, with a man who often drank too much and lost his temper.

He never hit me or the other kids, but he would curse, call us “stupid dogs” and frequently forgot to feed us.

I never complained because the next home might have been worse.

I could never forget what my first adoptive mom whispered when she thought I was asleep.

“I feel so bad about sending her back,” she’d said to her husband. “What if she ends up with someone like that man…? You know, the one in Lancaster County who beat his foster kids?”

“Yeah, but we can’t keep her. We only have so much energy and money, and the baby in your belly is the priority,” he’d said.

Now that I’m older, I realize most foster parents are good, well-meaning people. But I was too young and too scared.

I drop a rose into the grave. Goodbye, Zachary . Although he only saw me as a tool, I’m grateful in a way. After all, he was never stingy with me, always the nicest clothes, best private schools and extracurriculars. I even had a pony. He did all that to soothe his wife, but I benefited greatly.

Sherry grips my forearm, her eyes wet with tears, and looks up at me.

I’m still not sure if she sees me or the shadow of Finley.

The moment I entered the Obermans’ household, Zachary hugged me, calling me Finn.

Sherry followed suit, then held me at arm’s length and laughed like she couldn’t have been happier.

There were tears in her eyes. “My Finn, welcome home!”

The way Sherry looks at me dismays me from time to time.

I can’t decide if what I’ve done has helped or hurt.

It might’ve been better for her to face the reality that her daughter died a long time ago.

From what I understand, Sherry became a Buddhist after Finley’s death because she needed to believe that good karma would reincarnate Finley into a better life.

Shifting my weight awkwardly, I look away. Zachary would probably call me ungrateful if he knew my inner conflict. But it’s exhausting to be a stand-in or a tool. Sometimes I just want to be me—Fiona, not Finn.

Where’s Aaron? He was standing next to Sherry only moments ago, but now he’s nowhere to be seen.

But then, he’s been distracted and even a little anxious since the funeral started.

He’s also been giving me a death glare every time he notices me.

Not sure why his hostility has grown even more intense.

The entire estate will go to him. Zachary told me upon my graduation from Harvard that he wasn’t leaving me a penny.

Apparently, the family legacy belongs to a real Oberman.

Once the burial is over, Sherry leans on me, visibly wilting.

I take her to the long, winding path in the park next to the cemetery.

It’s beautifully maintained, with lush greenery and trellises covered with white jasmines, designed for people to take an emotional break.

The view should soothe her frazzled nerves and grief over losing her husband, who, despite his flaws, adored her.

“Do you have to go back to Wisconsin, Finn?” Sherry asks, after a while. “You’ve been away for so long.”

I squeeze her hand, hoping I’m giving her the comfort she needs.

Losing Zachary has to be devastating. He treated her like a hothouse flower and protected her from the ugliness of the world.

I can never repay the debt of gratitude for everything Sherry’s done for me.

Although Zachary treated me like a tool, she’s cared for me like her own flesh and blood.

She gave me a home when I had none, and provided me with the attention I needed as a young, insecure girl, from attending every school event to teaching me how to do makeup and bake a peach cobbler.

I doubt a kid abandoned by her birth mother would be able to speak three languages fluently or have a Harvard degree without Sherry.

“You have Aaron,” I say. He’s always loathed me for taking his sister’s place.

“You’re just a fucking fake, taking Finley’s place!

” he screamed within an hour of meeting me.

“A horrible, disgusting stand-in!” Zachary glared and had the butler “remove” him.

Although Zachary spoke to Aaron, the attitude hasn’t improved.

His hatred has only gotten worse over time.

Zachary protected me, but it wasn’t because he cared about me.

He needed to preserve Sherry’s fragile mental health.

“Sons are different,” she says with a sigh. “Do you have to work for that cheese company? That family can more than afford to take care of you. If you want to continue your career in marketing, there are so many companies in Los Angeles. I hear you’re good at your job.”

“I am, but the company needs me.” The owners treat me well, and I don’t want to leave them hanging. “I’ll be back for the holidays.”

“And for your birthday,” she says, her fingers tightening on my arm.

“I’ll see what I can do.” But I know I won’t be coming home for that.

The Obermans celebrate Finley’s birthday, which is also the day Zachary brought me into the Oberman household.

My real birthday is forgotten, and it’s a little awkward—even emotionally draining—to blow out candles on a cake with another girl’s name on it.

Besides, Aaron can’t stand celebrating anything about me.

“It’s been so lonely without you. Should I move to be with you, then?” Sherry looks contemplative. “I don’t want you to give up anything for me.”

Horror and guilt wind through my heart. I went to Monroe, Wisconsin specifically to see if I could heal from the trauma of the last two years of college because I knew I would never recover if I stayed in SoCal, where Bryce and Jude live.

In addition, I wanted to find a purpose and sense of belonging away from the Obermans.

Who knows how long the family’s going to need me to play the fake daughter?

Sherry shouldn’t abandon her real son and everyone she knows in SoCal to be with me in another state.

“Please. Mom.” I put a hand over hers. “I don’t want you to give up your friends and family in L.A. for me.”

“Your father’s gone now. What do I have left?” she says, looking down.

A huge lake appears to our right, and she switches places with me so she’s on that side of the path.

After Finley drowned, Zachary filled in the pool at the family mansion and turned it into a field of wisteria, the child’s favorite.

After I moved in with the Obermans, I discovered that I’m highly allergic to wisteria.

But Zachary gave me medication and instructed me not to mention it to Sherry, since it’d only distress her.

“This looks dangerous,” Sherry says. “Do you want to turn back?”

I don’t tell her I can swim, since Finn isn’t supposed to be able to swim. “No. It’s okay.” Turning back would mean possibly running into Aaron, and I don’t want to deal with his hostility. “Let’s walk a little more. I won’t trip and fall. I promise.” I give her a reassuring smile.

She looks at me for a moment, then finally nods. “True. You’re older now.”

We walk along the lake, the cool breeze toying with our hair.

I don’t say much, just listen to Sherry’s gossip about the people in her social circle.

It’s amazingly wide, and includes the Huxleys.

“Your father hired Bryce Huxley to take care of the estate. Can you believe it? He used to be so little. He’d come by to play when you two were young and toddling around.

” She laughs, apparently oblivious to the tension gripping me.