Little Secrets:Unexpectedly Pregnant(32)

Only it hadn't been him. After that, her memories of the ordeal were  totally blurry. But she knew that day had been the beginning of a  months-long nightmare. She'd been kidnapped and held for a ransom Damon  never paid. He'd never informed her father at all. He hadn't even  reported her as missing; the story was absent from all the news sites  she'd scoured online.

Grinding her teeth together, she felt the old signs of fear and  claustrophobia, the racing heart and cold sweats. These were the  physical symptoms of panic attacks she'd been working for weeks to  overcome with the help of a good therapist. She still wasn't able to  shake the effect of weeks spent scared and alone, captive in a remote  village somewhere on the Baja Peninsula, with guards who treated her  humanely enough, but never let her forget that they would kidnap one of  her younger siblings, too, if she didn't do as she was told.

Thoughts of Damon rescuing her had gotten her through the nights. Along  with the comforting knowledge of their child growing inside her. A child  she hadn't even been able to tell him about before the

abduction.

"Ma'am?" A young man called to her through the wrought iron fence,  making Caroline jump back from the scrolled gate. "Can I help you? Is  the call button acting up out there or is the main house not answering?"

Her heart thumped so fast and so hard she couldn't speak for a moment.  Everything felt frozen while her pulse rate skyrocketed and the guy with  a man-bun, and carrying a pair of gardening clippers, came closer.

Who would ever believe she had graduated with honors from a prestigious  East Coast business program when she couldn't even find her tongue to  answer a simple question? Who would guess she'd helped her

investor father to make millions on the two other tech start-ups she'd recommended he buy, back before her life fell apart?

These days, Caroline didn't even trust her memory of what happened  yesterday, let alone last year. She'd been drugged a few times during  her captivity with roofie-style pills that made past events fuzzy.  Between that and vicious bouts of morning sickness, her health had been  in serious decline by the time her captors rowed her out to a remote  island and left her stocked with enough food for a month, unguarded and  alone. Thankfully, the drugs hadn't harmed her baby, but she'd been too  ill to try looking for help. When she'd regained enough strength to do  so, just two months before her due date, a fisherman had found her and  contacted her father.         

     



 

"Ma'am?" The gardener tossed aside a handful of dead roses and set down  his heavy trimmer. With just a tee on, he seemed oblivious to the chill  in the air. "If you go around to the back entrance, I can let you in the  service gate."

Caroline swallowed down the panic as she remembered her therapist's  affirming words. You are strong and capable. Trust your instincts.

"Is Mr. McNeill home?" She had to see Damon. To learn for herself if  he'd only married her to win a favorable review of his company for the  sake of the investors. Was it just to cling to his CEO position for  another year and keep control of Transparent?

Had her charismatic husband duped her completely, even going so far as to marry her for profit?

Or had her father been feeding her lies from the day he'd quietly  brought her back to one of the family homes in Vancouver to deliver her  baby? Damon had made it impossible for her to contact him directly-his  cell phone was disconnected and he wasn't responding to emails. Calls to  his office weren't returned, although she had been too afraid to leave  her real name, worried her father would find out she'd gone behind his  back and contacted her husband. All along, her father had insisted Damon  wanted nothing to do with her, and her internet searches seemed to  support that. Her father had shown her a tabloid article that speculated  about how Damon's grandfather had recently required his heirs be  married for one year to inherit a portion of the

McNeill legacy. Caroline hadn't even known Damon was related to those  McNeills, one of the richest families in New York, but now she wondered  if their marriage had been purely for business reasons.

But she'd certainly discovered a few disconcerting clues in the last two  weeks that made her think her father could be manipulating her.  Transparent had a board meeting one week from now, and she wanted to  learn the truth before her father maneuvered Damon out of his CEO  position.

"I think Mr. McNeill is here today, but you need an appointment to see  him." The gardener peered at her curiously, perhaps wondering why any  guest of a multi­millionaire tech genius would show up at the gate with  no vehicle and dressed more like domestic help.

She'd debated her strategy until she felt ill about it. But there was no  other way. Damon had abandoned the cell number she had for him and  wasn't responding to her other attempts to contact him. He hadn't  launched a public search for her or filed a missing person report. If it  was just about her and their marriage-maybe Caroline would simply walk  away and start over.

But she had their six-week-old son to think about. And if there was any  chance that what she and Damon had shared was real, she needed to  understand what happened. Why he was carrying on his life as if she'd  never existed.

"He'll want to see me." She hoped. She didn't have to fake the nervous  tremble of her fingers as she fumbled in the back pocket of faded jeans  and removed the tattered piece of paper her sister had found hidden in  their father's den. "I want to ask him about this."

The document looked like it had gone through the washer and dryer a few  times. Or maybe it had fallen into the Pacific with her once, when she'd  tried to escape her captors. Caroline genuinely didn't remember. She'd  suffered amnesia during the ordeal, but her memo­ries were coming back.

Not that Damon McNeill needed to know.

"A marriage certificate?" Squinting at the washed-out ink, the gardener  scratched the spot under the man-bun, shifting the dark hair  side-to-side. "For Mr. McNeill?"

"I'm Caroline Degraff." She pointed to the name on the second line,  trying to recapture the sense of shock she'd felt when her sister first  showed her the paper.

She hadn't recalled the marriage for weeks after her father rescued her,  yet he'd never mentioned it until she confronted him. He'd tried to  keep her isolated from her family so she wouldn't learn the truth. Her  mother was dead, her younger brothers at boarding school and her sister  had been at university in the States. What else had he kept from her  about her marriage? About Damon? Her therapist had gently suggested that  Caroline had been subjected to gaslighting.

The gardener's gaze flicked up from the paper. "You're Mr. McNeill's wife?"

Her throat went dry. She remembered enough about Damon to know he might  never forgive her for this deception she had planned. But if he'd been  the one tricking her into romance in the first place, what would it  matter?

She was going to fake amnesia to find out what he had to say about her  disappearance. She had to know for sure if her father had been lying to  her about her husband.         

     



 

"I'm honestly not sure." She allowed all the doubts and fears of the  last months to come through in her voice. That much was not an act.  "We'll have to ask him because … " She bit her lip and blinked back the  swell of emotion before she spilled out a lie that was crucial to  getting the answers she needed for her child. "I don't remember."

"What did you just say?" Damon McNeill pressed the pause button on the  video he'd been watching on the big screen in the downstairs media room.

He'd asked not to be disturbed while he watched a hacker's demonstration  of how to unlock the security on the software Damon's company was  bringing to market in the spring. The hacker had found legitimate issues  Damon's technical team would need to patch. If he asked his own staff  to troubleshoot, he would have gotten thirty-page reports that gave him  the all-clear to go into production. Ask a twenty-two-year-old who  busted complex digital coding for the thrills and the cash? He got  results in forty-eight hours.

Except he'd have to rewind the video to the start now, because he  couldn't keep his focus on the demonstration when he was getting calls  from the housekeeping service. Damn it. He'd only hired outside help to  get the house ready to put on the market since he didn't want to keep  the place he'd barely set foot in since construction had finished a year  ago.

Caroline had loved their Los Altos Hills home, spending weeks with the  architect to get the design just right. And yet she'd disappeared from  the property mere hours after setting foot in it for the first time  after it was completed. That was more than enough reason for him to want  the house gone from his life forever.

"Mr. McNeill, there's a woman at the gate." The head of the maid service  had arrived this morning to personally oversee the housecleaning and  stage photos for the Realtor. "She says she's your wife."