“Well, dear, one person would care,” Betty said.
“Who would find out?”
“He would,” Adrienne said. Cassie furrowed her brows. “You insisted on him seeing a doctor. They would need a complete family history, the blood types. He would find out he wasn’t Bradford’s son. Bradford and I are both O positive, and our son, Garett, is B positive. You left us with a predicament—and we needed you pregnant fast.”
Senator Bynum looked at her. “He’s my son.” Cassie lifted her cuffed hands over her mouth. “Adrienne and I had an affair six months before I met Betty. It was just one of those things. Bradford and I came together and made our pact based on our shared interests. Bradford forgave her. He saw the big picture, and we moved on. The judge, with his similar tastes, joined us a couple of years later.
“Garett told his mother you planned on sleeping with him. You were supposed to sleep through the procedure. When they were done with you, Garett would take you away; you’d elope and fuck. It didn’t help that Garett told you he was sterile, but we would’ve had the doctor say it wasn’t complete sterility but a low sperm count. The pregnancy would be a miracle.
“The plan was perfect until you woke up early. That first baby, you were never going to see it anyway. Your uterus was payment for our indiscretions. Little Irina, well, we played a bit too rough, and she got an infection. She was no longer able to have children.
“Mr. Sabitov promised very unappealing things unless Irina had a baby to love. You, my pretty little whore, were perfect—two solutions for the price of one. When you gave birth, we would knock you out and tell you the baby died.
“In spite of the sedation Joe Maddox gave, you kept mumbling, ‘Why?’”
“How did Maddox get involved?”
Adrienne huffed, “Naïve little girl, like Devereaux, the root of all evil: money. He had a nasty gambling habit. And damn you, you woke up. At that point, there was nothing we could do. Claudia, Betty, and I gave you away as a parting gift. It bought us some time with Sabitov.”
“Whose baby was it?”
“Mr. Sabitov’s assistant, David Sucov, brought the specimen from Vicktor Sabitov, Irina’s husband. But he saw you and wanted to have you. You took off like a scared squirrel and threw the painting.” Whitman said.
"The Adoration," Cassie said.
Marshall grinned. “Stunning. Terrible to need to fold the canvas.”
“Cheyenne was already pregnant by some Texas jock when she met Garett. When she needed an emergency C-section, fate was with us. We told her the baby died. We were able to borrow an infant from the morgue to let her mourn. Garett helped her through her tragedy, and they got married. She went on to give us two beautiful granddaughters and a soon-to-be grandson.”
Cassie said, “You stole her child? This is why Maddox tried to kill me in the hospital—you thought I knew?”
“Now you get it. The minute you were put in the ambulance, Claudia called the hospital to make sure you died. You are like a damn cat with nine lives. Today will be your last,” Adrienne pronounced.
Cassie grabbed a napkin, placed it over her mouth, and became ill again.
* * *
Martin and Tate each grabbed a tray. With weapons secured to their ankles and under napkins, they entered the ballroom in time to observe Monte inject Cassie with some substance. Tate and Martin approached to clear the table. “Is something wrong, sir?” Tate asked.
Senator Bynum smiled. “Thank you for asking, young man. My aide is taking the young woman home. She’s not feeling well.”
Martin crouched in front of Cassie, “Ma’am, are you all right?” Cassie blinked, her pupils black saucers. She showed no indication she recognized him.
Hiding his gun and covering her hands, Monte pushed her toward the open door. “She’s fine. I’ll take care of her.” He offered a perverse smile.
Martin and Tate moved around the table to give themselves a tactical advantage. Before Monte reached the door, a squawk outside the room from a radio spooked him. When his arm pressed across Cassie’s throat, Martin dropped his tray and pointed his weapon at him. “You have nowhere to go. Release her.”
“Not quite.” The bald aide dragged Cassie along the carpet. “Move any closer—and I snap her neck.”
Cassie kicked off her shoes to gain traction, then kicked at his legs. Monte tightened his left arm across her throat, choking her close to unconsciousness.
The second-floor hallway seemed to go on forever. Cassie clawed at his hands while the faces in the hallway’s portraits contorted into ghoulish apparitions. As they approached the top of the steps across from the lounge, Monte pulled his gun and backed along the wrought iron railing overlooking the lobby. “We’re walking out of here.”
Ian stepped out from the lounge doorway. “You’re not going anywhere with her. You have no place to go. Look around you.”
Cassie faced whom she thought was Ian. Her vision was blurred, the room spinning like a top, but his familiar scent settled her. In Monte's left hand, the spring from a stiletto switchblade firing near her ear made her jump. A brief moment of awareness struck her.
Cassie mouthed, “I love you.” In spite of a tearing sensation in her leg, she shifted her weight and jammed her foot between two balustrades.
