Scandalous (24 page)

V
aughn scanned the typed pages of the file that Crystal had given her. Lucus Stone was involved in everything from ballot-tampering to extortion.

She closed the folder and slowly shook her head. It was still hard to believe. Well, she sighed, now she'd see how seriously Paul took his job as District Attorney.

She tucked the folder in her briefcase and prepared to leave. Her stomach seemed to tumble in slow motion every time she thought about her impending meeting with Paul. As much as she wanted him to confirm her suspicions about her father, a part of her didn't want to know that Lucus was capable of going to such lengths. Yet confirmation of her suspicions would vindicate Justin, something she desperately wanted. These past days of living with the thought of his betrayal, being alienated from him and pretending to be strong and indifferent to it all had been an endless trip to hell.

Now, what Paul would say would change the future course of her relationships with the two most important men in her life.

 

Paul was already seated at the restaurant when she arrived. He stood when he saw her enter, and waved her to his table. As she zig-zagged around the circular tables, she felt her heart thud and her pulse escalate. For an instant she had the juvenile notion to turn around and run. But her legs kept going until she was at the table and Paul was standing behind her, helping her to her seat.

“Do you want to order anything? I just ordered a salad,” he said casually, in what Vaughn knew was his attempt to ease the tension.

“Umm, I guess I'll just have iced tea,” she said evenly.

Paul signaled the waiter and gave him Vaughn's order. Once the waiter was gone, Paul looked down once at his folded hands and then across at Vaughn. Immediately, the look of regret in his eyes slammed into her. She felt her throat tighten.

She took a breath and tried to smile. “Why don't you just tell me, Paul—everything. I have to know.”

He nodded. Then, in a steady, even voice, Paul outlined how her father had coerced Justin into running against her, and how Elliott made Justin believe that if he didn't, damaging information about Vaughn would be released.

“Why? Why?” Her face was tight with incredulity. “What purpose would it serve for Justin to run against me? My father wanted
me
to win the election.”

Paul breathed heavily. He stretched his hand across the table and placed it atop both of hers. Her hands felt like blocks of ice and he tightened his hold. He looked steadily
into her eyes and knew that Vaughn could handle anything he told her.

“Vaughn, your father is a man whose power and influence has—has twisted him. Your father intended to control you, always. He wanted you to be so hurt and enraged by Justin's defection that you would throw yourself entirely into the campaign.” And that's exactly what she had done, she thought morosely. Paul continued, “He believed that Justin was a distraction to his plans for you.”

Her eyes were on fire, but she wouldn't cry. “Is that the same thing that happened to us?” she asked quietly. Paul nodded.

She chuckled—a hollow, tortured sound. “What if Justin won the run-off? What would dear daddy have done then?”

“Justin would have been forced to pull out,” Paul said slowly. “He never would have been allowed to get that far. And by that time your relationship would have been destroyed.”

“Allowed? Destroyed? Dear God what kind of monster is my father?” She pressed her fist to her mouth to keep from screaming. “Vaughn, I…”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “I'm fine.” She leaned over and took the folder from her briefcase. “Here.” She slapped it on the tabletop. “I'm sure there's something in there of interest,” she said woodenly. She stood and straightened her shoulders. “Thank you, Paul, for being honest with me. And as D.A. for the state, I believe that you should begin a thorough investigation into the activities of Judge Elliott Hamilton.” She picked up her briefcase and purse, gave Paul a parting look, and walked out of the restaurant.

 

If she didn't have a late afternoon meeting she would just keep driving. Her chest heaved in and out as she fought to control the wrenching sobs that shook her body. Her eyes blurred with tears and she swiped them away with the back of her hand.

Justin. Oh, God, Justin. What he'd done for her was something that only a person who truly loved another would do. She had to talk with him. She had to tell him how they'd both been used. She had to tell him how much she loved him and how wrong she was, and beg him to forgive her.

There was a gas station up ahead and she pulled in to use the phone. She dialed Justin's office.

“Montgomery, Phillips and Michaels,” Barbara answered crisply.

“Good afternoon. This is Vaughn Hamilton. Is Mr. Montgomery available?”

“No, he isn't,” Barbara replied tersely. “He's in court.”

“Oh, I see.” She took a breath. “Is he expected back at the office?” she plowed on, ignoring the chill that seeped through the phone lines.

“That's hard to say.”

Vaughn contained her annoyance. She understood that, under the circumstances, Barbara's distance was deserved. “Thank you,” she said finally and hung up the phone. She returned to her car and headed back to her office. She'd see Justin and they'd talk; she was determined.

 

Elaine had debated long and hard about what she should do. She'd given Melissa specific instructions; all of the information on the Simone Rivers' case was to be
channeled to her. This was a situation that she should handle. She'd gathered all of the data that she needed and her suspicions had been confirmed. Vaughn Hamilton was Simone's mother.

She'd wanted to discuss with Melissa a plan of action on how they would proceed, but Melissa had called in sick.

Elaine reached for her phone and dialed Richmond information.

 

Vaughn returned to work, hoping that she could catch Crystal before she left for the weekend.

“Has Crystal left yet?” Vaughn asked Tess, as she briskly walked down the hall to her office.

“About ten minutes ago. She had that meeting at City Hall.”

“Right, I'd completely forgotten.” Vaughn opened the door to her office and stepped inside. Moments later her intercom buzzed.

“Yes, Tess,” she responded, leaning over the phone.

“There's an Elaine Carlyle on line two.”

Vaughn frowned. “Who is she? If it's some committee meeting, tell her she needs to be put on the schedule.”

“She says she's from Child-Link and that it's important.”

Vaughn's frown deepened and her heart started to race. “Put her through.”

Vaughn pressed down the flashing light. “Yes. This is Vaughn Hamilton. May I help you?” she asked, using her professional front, trying to ward off the terror that raced through her.

“I don't know quite how to put this, and I realize the high profile position you're in and what the news of something like this could do…”

“Please, Ms. Carlyle,” Vaughn interrupted, barely able to contain her growing alarm, “just say whatever it is that's on your mind.”

“Very well. Several months ago, a young woman called us requesting that we help her locate her natural parents.”

Vaughn could hardly breath. “Yes…”

“Well, Ms. Hamilton, we've traced her parentage to you.”

A swift heat whipped through Vaughn, making her feel suddenly light-headed. “You must be mistaken. That's impossible,” she whispered, gripping the phone to keep her hand from shaking.

“Ms. Hamilton, believe me, if I weren't 100 percent certain I never would have made this call,” Elaine said with assurance. “Under normal circumstances we contact the client first and advise them of our findings.” She cleared her throat. “However, in this case, with you being a public figure and running for office, I felt that it was best to notify you.” She waited for a response but only heard Vaughn's heavy breathing. “Ms. Hamilton, this is highly irregular but if you wish, I can tell my client that you do not wish to be contacted by her. I know this comes as a shock and you probably need time to digest it all and think it over. Let me give you my number and you can call me with your decision on Monday.”

Vaughn mechanically wrote down the number.

“Ms. Hamilton…?”

“Yes,” Vaughn said blankly, “I understand.” In a daze she hung up the phone. But once she did, she realized that she'd hadn't asked the woman for the name of the girl who might be her daughter. But deep inside she knew that there was no need. She already knew. And with that came the
knowledge of years of deception. Deception so deep and pervasive that acknowledging it crumbled the last remnants of the foundation upon which she'd built her life.

 

Justin exited the courtroom during the brief recess and went directly to the bank of pay phones down the corridor. Pulling the business card for Child-Link out of his breast pocket he dialed the number. After being kept on hold for several minutes, he heard Elaine Carlyle come on the line.

“Yes, Mr. Montgomery, this is Elaine.”

“I want to know what you've found out,” he replied without preamble. Elaine hesitated.

“Well?”

“Mr. Montgomery, all I'm free to say about this case is that you are not Simone Rivers's father.”

“That much I've figured out myself,” he admitted with regret. He took a deep breath. “Did you find her parents?”

“Yes, we did, but I really…”

“Is Vaughn Hamilton Simone's mother?” he demanded. Elaine hesitated a moment too long. “Thank you Elaine, you've just answered my question.”

V
aughn went through the mechanics of her meeting. She smiled, nodded, and made all of the appropriate noises in all of the appropriate places. But her mind was racing to the confrontation that was ahead.

The implications of what had been done was enough to swallow her whole. She felt herself sinking into the quicksand of her father's malicious manipulations. But it was over now. It was over.

Mercifully, the meeting concluded, and Vaughn graciously begged off an invitation to accompany the group to dinner. She had to get to Norfolk.

 

It was already nightfall when Simone walked aimlessly through the streets, clutching the computer pages that spelled out her life.

At first Simone felt a surge of elation when she was told that Vaughn—the woman who she'd admired from afar
for years—was her mother. But then the cold reality of her situation loomed before her. Vaughn Hamilton and her family were wealthy and powerful. Vaughn had grown up with the best of everything. Getting pregnant and keeping a baby was an inconvenience, an embarrassment. So the child had been disposed of. Vaughn went on with her life of luxury and privilege, while Simone's foster parents struggled to keep a roof over their heads. But what about the $250,000 in her account? Her foster parents had been vague in their explanation. Was it Vaughn's way of making restitution for the abandonment? Was she only worth $250,000?

The tears started again, flowing heavily down her cheeks. She swore that her heart was breaking. Somehow she found her way back to the station, but she knew she didn't want to be alone. Not tonight. She found a phone and dialed Chad's home number.

“Hello,” came the deep voice.

“Rush,” she cried. “It's me, Simone.”

“Simone.” Rush sat up in his chair at the kitchen table instantly alert. “What is it? You sound like you're crying. What happened?”

“Everything. They…they found my mother,” she cried.

“What?”

“Y-es.”

“Simone where are you?”

“I'm at the train station. Can you meet me? My train is boarding.”

“Of course. I'll be there.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed.

“And Simone—everything is gonna be all right. Just keep it together, OK?”

“OK.”

 

The two hour drive seemed endless. As Vaughn drove through the darkened roads, she tried to formulate the words she would say when she confronted her father and mother. As much as she hated to believe it, she knew that her own mother was involved. That hurt most of all.

As she approached the turn onto the property, her heart sped off at an alarming rate. She willed herself to be calm and for several moments she sat motionless in the car, the magnitude of her disbelief rendering her incapable of movement.

Somehow, she called upon the remains of her strength and her determination. She knew that whatever lies were uncovered and laid to rest on the other side of that door, she could handle them.

Clinging to that realization, she got out of the car and rang the bell. Moments later her mother came to the door, exquisitely dressed as usual.

When Sheila saw Vaughn her face lit up, and she stepped across the threshold to embrace her daughter in a tight hug.

“Vaughn, sugah, why didn't you let us know you were coming?” Sheila quickly realized that Vaughn was stiff as a board. She took a step back and assessed her daughter. “What is it?” She put her arm around Vaughn's shoulder and ushered her inside.

“Where's my father?” Vaughn asked stiffly.

“He's in the den. Vaughn, what on earth is wrong?”

Vaughn walked down the hallway past her mother, and pushed open the door to the den, slamming it against the wall.

Elliott scrambled upright in his recliner. “What the…? Vaughn,” he sputtered, “have you lost your mind?”

“I thought I would when I received a phone call today,”
Vaughn said in a voice thick with emotion. She crossed the room in angry strides until she stood above him. “Why did you tell me my baby was dead?” she screamed.

“Oh, my God,” Sheila wailed.

“Tell me, damn you! What sick plan could have made you,” her voice broke, “tell a young girl, your own child, that her child was dead?” Tears streamed down her face and her body trembled with fury.

“Vaughn, please,” he began, his palms turned up in supplication. “You've got to understand that I did what I thought was best. You had a brilliant future ahead of you. I didn't want you to spend the rest of your life wondering—”

“No! You'd rather have me spend the rest of my life suffering and feeling guilty so that I'd continue to do your bidding! Did you know that every year on the date of my daughter's birth I go to a gravesite that I erected in her memory? Did you? Did you? And you were so hell-bent on your plans for me that you used the man that I love against me! Yes,” she said venomously, “I know about that too.” Then she rounded on her mother, who stood off to the side with her hands covering her mouth.

“And you,” she pointed an accusing finger. “You knew all along. My own mother,” Vaughn added sadly. “How could you do that to me?”

Sheila took a hesitant step forward. “Vaughn please. I—I didn't know what else to do. He's my husband. I had to stand by him.” Sheila's shoulders shook as she wept. “But I kept tabs on her for years. I've been sending money every month so that she would have something.”

“Does that somehow excuse you?” Vaughn asked icily.

Sheila shut her eyes and slowly shook her head.

Vaughn turned away, unable to bear the sight of either of them.

“Vaughn,” her father said quietly, “I was on the verge of a promising career. Word of your illegitimate pregnancy by the son of the former D.A. would have been disastrous for everyone.”

“Are you saying that Senator Willis was a part of this as well?” Vaughn asked, her disbelief kindled anew.

“Yes,” he muttered.

“Where does it end?” she screamed. “Where? How far are you willing to go with your twisted plans for me?” Vaughn took a deep, steadying breath. “I think you should know,” she said with an eerie calm, “that I've suggested to Paul Lawrence to begin a full investigation of you and your activities. My advice, since you're so concerned with scandal, is to submit your resignation the first thing Monday morning. And if I ever lay eyes on either of you again in this lifetime, it will be too soon.”

With that, she turned and ran from the room, ignoring her mother's frantic appeals.

 

Vaughn sat on the edge of her couch, staring sightlessly at the television, emotionally and physically spent. The scene with her parents played relentlessly in her mind. She wanted to talk to Justin. She needed to see Simone. But how could she ever find the words to explain the treachery that had colored their lives?

Somewhere on the fringes of her conscience, she heard a ringing. She tried to ignore it, but the insistent sound drew her to the door. She pulled the door open and Justin stood before her startled eyes.