The Deception (Filthy Rich Americans 3)

If I wasn’t so miserable, I might have laughed. I’d been poisoned by my future stepmother-in-law, and with Macalister’s relentless gaze on me, I felt anything but lucky.

I’d barely been settled into the enormous private suite before Macalister’s sharp order punched through the air, disrupting the quiet. “Clear the room.”

The nurse, who’d been writing her name on the dry-erase board, froze mid-scribble. “I’m sorry?”

It carried the same weight as if he’d told her to fuck off. “Out.”

She stiffened, capped her marker, and set it on the rest before hustling from the room.

He turned his sneering expression toward his son, who sat in the chair closest to my bedside. “That includes you, Royce.”

The sun had begun to rise outside, painfully reminding me we’d been up all night. I was as exhausted as Philippides after he’d run the fabled twenty-six miles from Marathon to Athens to declare victory. My fiancé likely felt the same, judging by his heavy, red-rimmed eyes. His bowtie was undone, as were the top buttons of his white dress shirt, and his hair was ruffled from hands he’d raked through it countless times.

It did nothing to diminish his attractiveness.

As he rose deliberately to his feet, his exhaustion faded, and Ares came out, preparing for battle. He clasped a hand on my bedrail, not for support, but to assume a defiant stance. It communicated he wasn’t going anywhere, and my gaze couldn’t help but trace his long fingers or the muscles twisting along his forearm and disappearing beneath his rolled-back sleeve.

Jesus. He should have been an artist instead of a banker, because he had such beautiful hands.

“If anyone’s leaving,” Royce’s tone hinted he was barely restraining his fury, “it’s you.”

Macalister lifted his chin like Royce had taken a swing at him and just missed landing the blow. His eyes were shrewd. “Marist and I need to discuss a personal matter.”

He spoke so professionally, but my heart thudded inside my body, searching for ways to escape. The personal matter had to be what I’d mistakenly said on the stairs. I despised how weak I sounded, but I was frayed to the point of breaking. “No. Royce stays, and we have nothing to discuss.”

How things had changed. When I’d first moved into the Hale house, Royce had been the enemy, and I had eagerly withheld information as he’d done to me. I’d cut him out and gone to Macalister alone. But nearly dying had given me a new perspective, and I knew who the real enemy was now.

I drew in a deep breath. “What I said when you found me—”

“I’m not interested in that at this time.” Macalister waved his hand, brushing my statement aside. “The more pressing issue is Alice.”

Words failed me, but the tendons in Royce’s arm flexed and his knuckles went pale as he squeezed the railing. “You’re fucking worried about her? After what she did?”

Macalister’s stone-cold gaze swept from me to his son. “To say I’m disappointed in her would be a grave understatement, but no, the only concern I hold for her is how her actions will reflect on the Hale name.”

Now it was Royce’s turn to be speechless.

In an instant, I understood with terrible clarity what Macalister desired. Status held the utmost value to him, and he’d do everything in his considerable power to stay scandal-free. My gaze dropped to the blanket stretched across my lap. “You can’t have a Hale go to prison.”

Royce’s tone was begrudging. “Like that would even happen.”

“No,” Macalister agreed, “I’m confident our lawyers would prevent that.” His focus shifted back to me. “But it cannot get that far. Do you understand how disastrous the optics would be? My wife arrested for poisoning my future daughter-in-law. The media would be all over us, in every facet of our lives. Imagine how low the stock will drop when the story comes out. We’d have to put everything on hold, and table the takeover attempt of Ascension we voted to make.”

Royce stiffened.

My body went cold as I asked the question I already knew the answer to. “What are you saying?”

“You agreed to protect both the Hale name and my company, Marist.” Macalister grasped the edges of his tuxedo jacket and straightened it to hang properly on his broad shoulders. “I’m aware it’s not an easy thing you’re required to do, but you will do it regardless, because you are a part of this family now.”

Not legally yet, but it didn’t matter. I was bound to them both financially and with my word.

“When the time comes,” he continued, “you’ll explain that you made a mistake. A misidentified plant with unfortunate side effects. You didn’t speak to Alice last night. She wasn’t involved in any way.”

All the breath left my body. “You want me to lie.”

His tone was absolute, a direct order from the king. “To save the reputation of our family, yes. You will.”