I knew before he spoke that something was wrong.
He extended his hand anyway.
“Grant Holloway.”
My heart began hammering.
“Evan's CEO?”
“For the moment, yes.”
Something about his wording made me stare.
Grant looked toward the party.
Then back at me.
“Mrs. Mercer, I need to ask you an extremely strange question.”
“Brooke.”
“All right. Brooke.”
He lowered his voice.
“Are you legally married to Evan?”
I actually laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the question was so absurd my brain didn't know what else to do.
“For eleven years.”
Grant's jaw tightened.
“We have a daughter.”
His face changed again.
I could almost see pieces connecting behind his eyes.
“Why are you asking me that?”
Grant glanced toward the check-in table.
“Because Evan arrived approximately forty minutes ago with a woman he introduced as his wife.”
Everything around me seemed to become distant.
The music.
The laughter.
The glasses clinking behind us.
“What did you say?”
“He introduced someone as Mrs. Mercer.”
My fingers tightened around my purse strap.
“Who?”
Grant didn't answer immediately.
And suddenly I realized he wasn't merely surprised.
He looked furious.
“Grant.”
He exhaled slowly.
“I think we need to determine exactly what's happening before anybody does something they'll regret.”
“I already know what's happening.”
“You might not.”
“My husband invented two different lies to keep me away from this party.”
Grant stared at me.
“What lies?”
“He told me the event had been postponed. Then he told me he had an emergency meeting tonight.”
Grant gave a short, humorless laugh.
“There is no emergency meeting.”
“I figured.”
For several seconds, we simply looked at each other.
Then I asked the only question that mattered.
“Where is he?”
Grant gestured toward the lawn behind the house.
“Somewhere near the water.”
I stepped forward.
He caught my elbow gently.
“Brooke.”
I turned.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
His eyes drifted toward the crowd.
“I'm not certain yet.”
“Certain about what?”
“I need five minutes.”
I almost pulled away.
Then I saw his face.
Whatever he suspected, it involved more than an employee embarrassing himself at a company event.
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn't,” he said. “You met me thirty seconds ago.”
That answer stopped me.
“But give me five minutes anyway.”
I folded my arms.
“Four.”
For the first time, Grant almost smiled.
“Fair enough.”
He didn't ask me to leave.
Instead, he led me onto the terrace and introduced me to two executives simply as “Brooke, a friend of mine.”
That was enough to let me move through the party without immediately causing a scene.
I searched every face.
No Evan.
Grant remained beside me, but his attention was elsewhere.
Then I spotted my husband.
He was near the dock.
He had one hand around a whiskey glass and was talking to two men from his department.
He looked relaxed.
Happy.
Free.
For one crazy second, I thought maybe the mystery woman had already left.
Then Evan glanced toward the upper terrace.
His expression softened.
I knew that look.
Once, years ago, it had belonged to me.
I followed his gaze.
A woman in a coral dress stood near the railing.
She looked about thirty.
Long dark hair.
Bare shoulders.
A slim gold bracelet catching the sunlight.
Evan smiled at her.
She smiled back.
And suddenly Grant beside me went completely still.
I turned toward him.
“You know her.”
His face had hardened.
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
Before he could answer, Evan saw me.
The color drained from his face.
His whiskey glass lowered.
He stared.
I stared back.
Then he started walking toward us.
Not casually.
Fast.
By the time he reached me, his jaw was clenched so tightly I could see the muscle jumping beside his ear.
“Brooke.”
I lifted my champagne glass.
“Hi, honey.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Enjoying the party that doesn't exist.”
His eyes flicked toward Grant.
Then back to me.
“Can we talk somewhere private?”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“Brooke, please.”
“I'm having a wonderful time.”
“Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“This isn't the place.”
I laughed quietly.
“Interesting. You seemed to think it was the perfect place to bring someone else as your wife.”
His face changed.
There it was.
Fear.
Not guilt.
Not shame.
Fear.
“Who told you that?”
“The man whose name is on the invitation.”
Evan looked at Grant.
“Sir, this is a misunderstanding.”
Grant's expression was unreadable.
“I'm looking forward to understanding it.”
Evan stepped closer to me.
“Go home. I'll explain everything later.”
“No.”
“Brooke—”
“No.”
For years, I had hated confrontation.
Evan knew it.
He was counting on the woman who apologized when waiters brought the wrong order.
The woman who avoided arguments in front of Sophie.
The woman who repeatedly told herself there must be another explanation.
That woman had driven to the lake.
She hadn't walked through the gate with me.
I looked across the lawn.
“Where is she?”
Evan said nothing.
“The woman you introduced as your wife.”
His lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Then Grant spoke.
“Evan.”
One word.
My husband turned.
Grant's voice remained calm.
“I suggest you answer her.”
Evan swallowed.
“It's complicated.”
I nodded.
“Of course it is.”
I started toward the upper terrace.
Evan stepped in front of me.
“Don't.”
That was the moment my remaining doubt disappeared.
“You lied about the party.”
“Brooke—”
“You lied about working tonight.”
“Listen to me.”
“You brought another woman here and called her your wife.”
“Lower your voice.”
I stared at him.
Then I smiled.
That frightened him more than yelling would have.
“You've spent months deciding exactly what I'm allowed to know. You don't get to decide anything else tonight.”
I moved around him.
Grant followed.
Evan stood frozen behind us.
We had taken maybe six steps when Grant spoke quietly.
“I know who she is.”
I stopped.
“Tell me.”
He looked directly at me.
“Her name is Paige.”
“All right.”
There was something in his face.
Something terrible.
“Paige Holloway.”
I stared at him.
The surname registered first.
Then the meaning.
“Holloway?”
Grant nodded once.
“My daughter.”
I actually forgot how to breathe.
“Your daughter?”
“She lives in Chicago. She told me she was visiting friends this weekend.”
I looked back at Evan.
He had not followed us.
He stood beside the dock watching.
His face was almost gray.
Grant saw him too.
And I understood something.
Evan hadn't merely brought his m.i.s.t.r.e.s.s to his boss's party.
He had been secretly seeing his boss's daughter.
And judging by his expression, he had no idea Grant was her father.
“Does she know he's married?” Grant asked.
“I don't know.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I'm about to find out.”
I caught his arm.
“Not yet.”
He looked at me.
“If she's your daughter, she deserves to hear the truth.”
“She does.”
“But if she didn't know about me, she's not the person who lied to me.”
Grant studied my face.
“What are you suggesting?”
I looked toward a small stage where a jazz trio had been performing earlier.
A microphone rested beside the keyboard.
For the first time that evening, my hands stopped shaking.
“I think Evan has had the advantage long enough.”
Twenty minutes later, Grant Holloway stepped onto the stage.
Someone lowered the music.
Employees began turning toward him.
Evan was still near the dock with Paige.
I stood at the edge of the crowd.
Grant tapped the microphone.
“Everyone, could I borrow your attention for a minute?”
Conversations faded.
“First, thank you for coming. Hartwell has had a demanding quarter, and I know your families have tolerated more late nights than they should.”
A few people laughed.
My eyes remained on Evan.
He wasn't laughing.
Grant continued.
“I normally save announcements for Monday mornings, but tonight has presented an unusual opportunity.”
Paige looked toward her father.
Her smile brightened.
“Dad?”
A ripple of surprise moved through the nearby employees.
Evan turned sharply toward her.
I watched confusion cross his face.
Grant smiled.
