I shook my head. “Then why didn’t I know?”

“Mr. Harrington took care of everything. He made sure with his deals that you would remain safe, as long as he—”

“Shared me?” I interrupted.

Travis nodded. “That was part of it. There’s more, but it’s a lot to swallow at one time.” His eyebrow twitched, and his lips snaked into a grin. “But you can probably handle it.”

I fucking hated this man!

“Tell me who: who knew of me before I married Stewart. Who first mentioned me to Randall?”

Travis looked toward me, eyeing my seatbelt, and put the SUV back into drive. As we eased onto the interstate, he said, “Tell me who just fucked you.”

“I asked you a question first.”

“You did, but I need to know if you trust me.”

I shifted slightly in the seat and remembered Brody’s words: I’m with you. It’s my come inside of you. “Do you know who I was with?”

His dark eyes once again focused on the road, as he confirmed, “Yes, Mrs. Harrington, I’ll know if you’re lying to me.”

I considered my answer while Travis made his way through the growing morning traffic. As we approached the apartment and I watched the scenery, I realized that I’d never sat in the passenger seat of this SUV. I’d always ridden in the backseat.

When I didn’t respond, Travis nodded. “Very well. Did you talk to Dr. Conway?”

“I did.” My head snapped to the left. “Who was it? Who came to her apartment?” I considered the description. “Was it Parker?”

“No.”

Dark hair with gray, tall… who? “Are you going to tell me?” I asked.

Travis shrugged his massive shoulders. “I’m waiting for my answer, Mrs. Harrington.”

THE FUNERAL PASSED by in a blur. Though I appeared the mourning widow, in actuality I was listening, dissecting, and inhaling everyone around me. As I scanned the large crowd that overfilled the church, I wondered if the people Travis knew, the ones he believed were threatening me, were among the mourners. Were Stewart’s friends in attendance? Could they be wearing a mask of compassion, when in actuality they had other plans: plans that involved an extension on my personal hell?

My mother, Marcus, and Lyle were seated directly behind Val and me during the service. I hadn’t spoken to her since before Stewart’s death, though her sufficiently red eyes and blotchy face made for the perfect distraught mother-in-law. Why was I even surprised? I was sure she welcomed the chance to be seen at such a high-profile occasion, even if it did mean being seen in less than perfect condition. Marilyn nodded sympathetically as Val and I took our seats. My unsmiling-bitch-face worked as well as my smiling one.

During the service I wondered about Brody. Was he there as he’d promised? As I’d left the motel this morning, he was getting into the shower. Had he seen Travis with me outside the motel room? I hadn’t heard from him since I left. Perhaps he didn’t know that my bodyguard had practically accosted me. But then again, was it accosting when Travis claimed to be concerned about my best interests? Was it even possible that he had been protecting me all of these years? Or Stewart?

I refused to entertain the idea. Given my situation and the same opportunity, I’d do what I did. I’d place those pellets in his chair again. As I worried about the idea that my contract could go to anyone else, I wished I still had the pellets; however, from what I knew, their half-life had been exceeded. That meant they were no longer potent enough for therapeutic treatment. Of course, my use wasn’t therapeutic. All I could hope was that the chair was still radioactive. Perhaps if anyone else spent enough time there, they too would suffer Stewart’s fate.

After the service, Val led me by the elbow as we made our way out of the church and into the finally cooler autumn air. Thankfully, I’d been too lost in my own thoughts to listen to the eulogy. Instead of concentrating on Stewart Harrington’s stellar qualities, my mind was filled with questions.

Brody and I had only scratched the surface of the papers Parker wanted me to sign. They weren’t a request to bequeath my contract to Parker. It was a rephrasing of the original contract, one that gave Parker Craven dictatorial power over my activities described as payment in exchange for Stewart’s withholdings. Those debts were poorly defined, making repayment seem unattainable.

In essence, his new contract pulled me back into the role I’d played for too long with no hope of getting out. What neither Brody nor I could surmise from the new documents, was what I was supposed to reap? As I glanced into Val’s steel-gray eyes, I knew what I’d gained from the original contract. I’d lost my body and soul, but I’d secured my sister’s future, and together we’d helped thousands of people with more to come. Could any of that—Val, her work, the clinics—be at stake?

“Victoria, dear,” Marilyn Sound sighed, as she quickened her pace to walk beside me. I glanced first toward Val, who remained stoic. It was then that my gaze fell on Travis. I saw his first hint of humor as his brows arched and forehead furrowed. He’d just asked me an unspoken question, yet I heard it as plain as if he’d said it out loud: Mrs. Harrington, would you like me to escort Mrs. Sound away?

The slight grin that came to my lips was instantly misinterpreted by my mother as she reached her arm around my shoulder. “My dear, I know what it’s like to lose a husband. I’m here for you. I want you to know that.”