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As she met his eyes, he smiled.
Madeline’s knees gave. She sank to the floor, clutching Grace tightly to her chest. She shook, but not with fear. With the truth.
Griffen meant his sister harm.
Grace would never be safe around him. Never.
Chapter Two
1976
Madeline stood at her bedroom window, heart pounding, mouth dry with fear. She watched Pierce and Adam, engaged in conversation in the driveway below. Both men were dressed for a day of business; they had been standing in the driveway, their cars idling, for just over ten minutes.
Madeline checked her watch again, swore softly, then returned her gaze to her husband and father-in-law. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed the men to finish their discussion and go.
Her silent plea didn’t move them, and she flexed her fingers, frustrated. Anxious. Why had they chosen today for a lengthy chat? Why today, when every minute counted? Every second?
She had everything planned. Adam was leaving for a buying trip; in moments Pierce would head to work; he had a cocktail reception to attend tonight and a racquetball match after that. The housekeeper did the marketing on Wednesdays, it was Nanny’s day off. Grandmother Monarch was quite ill and hardly ever emerged from her suite of rooms. Griffen was in school.
Today was the perfect day to run away.
Her stomach fluttered. Nerves. Disappointment. In herself, in her husband. He refused to see the truth about Griffen, about the boy’s intentions toward Grace. In the five years since the incident in the nursery, Madeline had countless times shared her fears, her premonitions about Griffen, with her husband and father-in-law. They had called her excitable. She was overreacting, they’d said. She was a neurotic, hysterical mother. They had even suggested that she was jealous of the boy.
Jealous! Of Griffen? Of the time he spent with Grace? It was worse than ridiculous. It was insulting.
Without support from the family, she had been forced to watch Griffen’s bizarre attachment to his sister grow. He became alarmingly jealous when she ignored him or chose to play with another child, or even a toy, or pet. He followed Grace; he was possessive of her time, her attention. Madeline had caught him gazing with pure hatred at other children, at Nanny, at her, for heaven’s sake.
But those had been nothing compared to what had come next.
Grace’s favorite toys destroyed, sometimes mutilated. Her kitten bludgeoned to death.
Griffen on top of Grace, holding her down, one hand covering her mouth, the other up her dress.
Even now, months later, the horror of what she had stumbled upon, caused her stomach to turn. He had not been playing a guileless child’s game with his sister. They had not been wrestling, as he had claimed with an innocent, beautiful smile.
Madeline had gone to her husband and her father-in-law; she had told them what she’d seen. She had begged them to believe her, had pleaded with them to trust her. Not only for Grace’s sake, but for Griffen’s, too. The child needed counseling.
Not only had they not believed her, her father-in-law had threatened her. If she didn’t cease this madness, Adam had warned, he would take Grace away from her. She was unbalanced, he had told her. Her delusions about Griffen, about being able to see the future, were unhealthy for the youngster. Any judge would see that.
Adam had struck her then, sharply, across the mouth. The force of the blow had sent her reeling backward, into a wall. Pierce had stood silently by, watching his father, allowing it to happen without even a murmur of protest.
Madeline brought a hand to her mouth, remembering, holding back a sound of pain. Any affection, any last, lingering warmth she had felt for her husband had died in that moment. And in that moment, she had begun hating him. Hating him so much, so ferociously, that she had been able to taste the emotion.
It had tasted like acid. It had eaten at her like acid.
It still did.
All these months, she had controlled her feelings. Because she’d known she couldn’t afford another of her “mistakes,” because she’d understood that this time it was Grace’s life at stake. Grace’s well-being.
With the Monarch power, money and connections, Adam could make good his threat to take Grace away from her. He could do it without even breaking a sweat.
Then her daughter would have no one to protect her. No one who saw the truth about Griffen.
So Madeline had begun the elaborate charade—pretending to be smitten with her husband, acting the part of devoted, adoring wife, the part of the perfect Monarch daughter-in-law. She had claimed to both men that she’d had a sort of epiphany, telling them that they had been right—she had been overreacting about Griffen.
She didn’t know what had gotten into her, she’d told them. She didn’t know why she had been so excitable. She had told them she was sorry, that she was embarrassed by her behavior.
Pierce had fallen for it right away; Adam had taken longer.
She had begun planning her and Grace’s escape.
Pierce looked up suddenly, catching her staring at him. He narrowed his eyes—with suspicion, with realization. Her heart stopped, then started again, thundering in her chest until she had to fight to catch her breath. He knew, she thought, completely panicked. Dear God…he had found her out.
What did she do now?
Madeline fought her panic. He didn’t know. He couldn’t. He didn’t even suspect. She had been very careful. That morning, as a bit of insurance, she’d even submitted to his hands and mouth, she had submitted to his every demand, no matter how abhorrent to her. She had moaned and writhed and sighed, knowing that he would go off to work content and cocky. Knowing that he wouldn’t give her another thought all day. All the while she had wanted to wretch; her skin had crawled at his touch.
But she would do anything to protect her daughter. Anything. This plan had to work. It had to.
Madeline forced an adoring smile and waved. Then for good measure, she blew him a kiss. He smiled, the curving of his lips confident to the point of arrogance, then returned to his conversation.
She backed away from the window, relief flooding her. He didn’t know. Neither did Adam. She and Grace were safe.
For now.
Madeline spun around, thinking of the past months. She had lived in fear, she had spent every waking moment walking a tightrope between acting as if nothing was wrong and protecting Grace, between appearing unconcerned about Griffen and being too terrified even to sleep, lest he use that opportunity to sneak into Grace’s room and violate her.
Living that way had taken its toll. She was tired and on edge. She had lost weight, so much that people had begun to comment. There had been times, as she paced the floor during the middle of the night, that she had wondered if she was crazy. If she was delusional, as Pierce had said.
But those times were few; they didn’t last long. She would recall Griffen’s expression when he looked at Grace, would recall the coldness of his eyes, the cunning of his smile, and she would know she wasn’t crazy.
Everyone else was blind.
Madeline crossed to the bed, bent and peered underneath—her suitcases were there, where she had left them, waiting. Hers was packed, Grace’s empty. As soon as Pierce was gone, she would remedy that.
Madeline stood, glanced around the room, mentally ticking off her few options, reassessing her decision. She had no family to go to and had lost touch with all her old friends. Even her once–best friend, Susan, who she had been so close to that she had believed them soul mates, had slipped out of her life. She had no nest egg to fall back on and no means to support her and Grace. Pierce had seen to it that she had no financial independence; everything she had, Pierce either gave her or she signed for.
Adam’s sister, Dorothy, was sympathetic, but only to a point. Dorothy’s allegiance would always be first and foremost to the Monarch family and the family business. And Dorothy, like the others, was obsessed with the notion that Grace had the gift, obsessed with the belief that Grace would one day succeed her as the artistic genius behind Monarch Design.
Having no other option, Madeline had pawned her engagement ring—Pierce thought she had taken it in for cleaning—and used the money to buy a car. A late-model Chevrolet, a junker compared to the Mercedes sedan she usually drove. But it had low mileage and the woman from whom she’d bought it had sworn it was absolutely dependable.
Madeline had parked it a dozen blocks away, in a transitional neighborhood where it wouldn’t scream that it didn’t belong. Everything was in place.
Madeline checked her watch, then twisted her fingers together. Dammit, when were they going to leave? Every moment counted. Because every moment meant another moment’s head start before Pierce and Adam realized what she had done.
As if in answer to her silent plea, Madeline heard the slam of car doors. She raced to the window in time to see Adam and Pierce drive off.
Finally! Heart in her throat, she flew to the door, into the hall and down the stairs. At the foyer she stopped, forcing herself to appear calm on the off chance someone was about. She made her way to the study, closing and locking the door behind her.
She leaned against the door, letting out a breath she hadn’t even realized she held. She drew another. Across the room hung a small, exquisitely rendered landscape. Behind it, a wall safe.
She stared at the painting, working up her courage. For four months she had used every excuse to be in here when Pierce opened the safe; she had even used an insatiable need for sex, all in an attempt to learn the combination. She had watched, she had listened and counted and prayed.
And she had learned it, number by excruciating number. Or she thought she had.
Dear God, please let me have the right numbers. Don’t let me be wrong.
Madeline crossed to the painting. She swung it away from the wall. Her hands shook. They were clammy, slick with sweat. She spun the wheel to the first number, then the next and next. She grasped the handle and pulled.
It didn’t open.
She almost cried out in disappointment, physically biting back the sound. Without money, she couldn’t go as far as the corner. Without money, there was no way she could get Grace away from here, no way she could hide and protect her.
Stay calm, Madeline. Take a deep breath and try again.
She did.
The safe opened.
Light-headed with fear and relief, she reached inside. She moved aside a black velvet pouch emblazoned with Monarch’s “M” logo, counted out five thousand dollars, enough, she thought, to get her and Grace far from here and settled, until she could find a job.
She stuffed the bills into one of her cardigan’s deep pockets, then moved the pouch back to its original position and started to close the safe door. Her gaze landed on that black velvet bag.
What was in it?
On impulse, she opened the bag and dipped her hand inside—and pulled out a fistful of sparkling, fiery gems. Diamonds, rubies and sapphires. She caught her breath, stunned. By their beauty. By their heat. For even though they were cold against her palm, their fire made them hot.
What were they doing here? she wondered, selecting a particularly large, brilliant stone and holding it up to the light. Why weren’t they in the store’s vault, where they belonged? There they would be both safer and fully insured. It didn’t make sense. Adam and Pierce were nothing if not shrewd businessmen.
Madeline frowned at her own thoughts. She didn’t have time for this; what Pierce and Adam did with the store’s property wasn’t her concern. It never had been. She dropped the stones back into the bag, then shoved the bag back into the safe.
Take them.
The thought raced into her head, and with it a feeling, sharp, overwhelming—that she would need them, that Grace would need them. Madeline shook her head, denying the thought, the feeling. She was overwrought and anxious; she wasn’t thinking clearly. If she took the stones, Pierce and Adam would be that much more determined to find her. They would have that much more to hold against her in a court of law.
She swung the safe shut, made sure it was locked, turned and started out of the study. Halfway across the room she stopped, frozen, blinded by an indistinct but chilling image. She saw snow. And blood spilling across a gleaming floor. She saw the twinkle of gems and the glitter of ice. Her mouth went dry; sweat beaded on her upper lip. She saw dark water sucking someone down, swallowing them whole.
She began to shake. Take the gems. Take them now.
With a cry of pure terror, Madeline spun back to the safe, reopened it and grabbed the pouch. She slammed the safe shut and as quickly as she could, twisted the dial, then eased the painting into place.
She couldn’t turn back now.
Clutching the pouch to her chest, she ran from the library. Hysteria tugged at her; she fought it. She had to stay calm if she was to protect Grace. Today she was taking the first step, but every day after would prove as much of a challenge.
No one was about. Madeline supposed the housekeeper had already left. She made her way up to the nursery. She crossed to Grace’s bed.
“Baby,” she murmured, shaking her daughter gently, “sweetheart, it’s time to get up.”
Grace whimpered and rolled over, crushing her favorite teddy bear to her chest. Madeline shook her again. “Come on, sweetie, we’re going on a trip. Time to wake up.”
Grace yawned. She cracked open her eyes. Her lips curved up. “Hi, Mommy.”
Madeline’s heart turned over. She never got enough of hearing her daughter call her that, never got enough of that sweet, baby voice or the way the little girl looked at her—as if Madeline were the most important, the best, person in the world.
She loved Grace so much it terrified her. She prayed she was doing the right thing.
“I need you to dress, baby. Your clothes are right over there.” She pointed to the rocking chair, where she had laid out her daughter’s garments. She saw that her hand shook. “Can you do that for me?”
Grace nodded and sat up; she stuck her thumb in her mouth—a habit Pierce couldn’t abide—and eyed her mother. “Mommy’s upset.”
“No, honey. Just rushed.”
“Where are we going?”
Madeline hesitated. What could she tell her daughter? That she planned to drive until she could drive no more, her only goal to put as much distance between them and the Monarchs as possible? Hardly. Instead, she tapped Grace on the nose. “It’s going to be so much fun. Just you and me.”
“Not Daddy?”
Madeline shook her head. “He has to work.”
Grace accepted her explanation without question or murmur. The truth was, Grace and Pierce weren’t especially close; he was always busy, and when he did have time for Grace he was critical—she was too loud, too messy, she didn’t pronounce words correctly. He hardly ever hugged or kissed her; he always spoke of her in terms not of love but of value. To the family. To the business.
“Not Grandfather or Grandmother?”
Madeline shook her head. “Nope.”
Grace curved her arms around herself. “Not brother?”
“Not brother,” Madeline answered sharply. Never brother. “We’re going to have such fun, just you and me.”
“Okay.” Yawning again, Grace climbed out of bed. “Clothes over there?”
“That’s right, honey.” Madeline went to the nursery door, stopping when she reached it. “You get dressed. I’ll be right back, then I’ll help with your socks and shoes.”
“Thanks, Mommy.”
Madeline squatted and held out her arms. “I think I need a hug.”
Grace trotted over. She wrapped her chubby little arms around Madeline’s neck and squeezed. Madeline hugged her back, hard.
“I love you, sweetheart. More than anything. I always will.”
“Me, too. More than anything.”
Madeline kissed her, then stood. “I’ll be right back. Get dressed.”
Madeline ducked into the hall, glancing at her watch again as she did. Time was slipping by. Too much time. She had to put as much distance between her and this family as she could, as fast as she could. When Pierce and Adam realized what she had done, they would use their every resource to find her.
