She sighed. “I hate hospitals. The last time I was in one . . . well, it’s just a place people go to die. Or at least for me it is. My mom spent the last week of her life in a hospital, and before that, I had to go to the hospital to identify my dad, so . . .”
“Brette, I’m so sorry. How did they die?”
“My mom had cancer. My dad . . .” She swallowed. “He took his life.”
He stilled, his throat suddenly thick.
She seemed to sense his discomfort. “He lost everything in the Taggert fraud.”
Oh no. That, he didn’t see coming. Because, yes, he knew about the Taggert scandal, but only from Jess’s point of view.
And of course, from the conversation around the Remington dinner table, the words of his father, who was grateful he’d never invested with any of his friend Damien’s companies.
Brette might have mistaken Ty’s silence for confusion, however, because she went on. “It was a big Ponzi scheme out east with an international investment firm—Taggert Financial, run by Damien B. Taggert. Basically, Damien rooked hardworking people like my parents out of everything they had by getting them to invest with his fraudulent company.”
She eased herself onto her back. “My dad was a plumber, my mom a housekeeper. Damien Taggert was a friend of one of my mother’s employers, and they entrusted him with their entire retirement savings. When the scheme was discovered, it was right after my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. My dad tried to pull the funds out, but it was too late. There was nothing—it was all just on paper. I’m not sure if it was panic or just despair, but we found my dad in the car in the garage one Sunday night, not long after.”
She wiped her cheek. “Maybe he thought the life insurance would see it as an accident. But they didn’t . . . My mom declared bankruptcy when she got the medical bills. She lost their home and moved into my tiny apartment. But by then, the cancer had progressed so far, it didn’t matter.” She sighed again. “At least I got to be with her at the end.”
The story slid into Ty, found his bones, and turned him cold.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“I can’t help but wonder if she’d had better medical care . . . or if my dad had been around . . . Anyway, I’m glad Damien Taggert got 150 years in prison, even if he’ll only live to do a fraction of that.”
Ty simply nodded, a fist closing around his chest.
Because, in that moment, her words at the house rushed back to him. Selene Jessica Taggert.
Oh no. But he didn’t move, didn’t let his face betray him. Maybe he’d imagined it . . .
“The thing is, Taggert was supposedly turned in by his own daughter, Selene. She even testified against him in a closed hearing. She joined him in court on the day of his sentencing, and then she vanished. Just walked away from her entire life—left her brother and mother to fend off the press. There’s a rumor out there that she testified to save herself from jail, but she ran before anyone could dig the evidence up.”
Ty had to clench his teeth to bite back a defense, an explanation. But that was for Jess to unravel.
“I can’t get it out of my head that if I could just corner her, ask her why, maybe even get an apology . . . I don’t know. Maybe I could let go of this darkness inside, find some peace.”
If that was all it took . . . a confession? An apology? This wasn’t exactly Jess’s fault, but Brette didn’t seem to think that way.
“You know what’s crazy?” Brette said then, finally looking at him again. “I thought, for a while there, that Jess Tagg was Selene Taggert, the missing heiress. I mean, she just looked so familiar to me. Long blonde hair, a sort of regal confidence about her, the look of someone raised in wealth.” She lifted a shoulder. “I think probably it was the pain going to my head.”
He raised an eyebrow, offered a nod, as if in agreement.
Let out a breath.
She had ahold of his hand, ran her thumb over it. “So, you see, Ella is all I have.”
“Not all you have,” Ty said quietly.
She smiled, and it made him ache. He reached out, pushed her hair from her face, let it fall, silky between his fingers. “You’re not alone. I’m not leaving you.”
She wrapped her hands around his, cradling it on her chest. “Thank you, Ty.”
Her tears welled again, and he touched his other hand to her cheek, wiping the wetness away with his thumb.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know why I keep crying.”
He shook his head. “It’s been a stressful couple of days.”
But she’d reached up and curled her hand behind his neck. Met his gaze.