Blaine had been nervous when he called the mental hospital to ask about Serena Barrett, but the receptionist had given him good news. They couldn't tell him anything about her condition or how well she would be able to answer his questions, but they did tell him that she was allowed to have visitors during the appointed hours. Blaine would have to cut class if he was going to make the visiting hours, but if Serena could give him any information on her ex-husband, it would definitely be worth it.
When Blaine arrived at the hospital he was asked to take a seat in the lounge. An orderly would tell Mrs. Barrett that he was there and if she was willing to see him, she would come out to him. Blaine waited anxiously, hoping that she would agree to see him.
A few moments later, the orderly returned with an attractive woman who looked to be in her mid to late thirties. She was much younger than Blaine had expected. He stood up to greet her.
"I'm sorry I'm not dressed for company," Serena apologized. When she spoke, her voice was very soft, with an almost airy quality to it. "I wasn't expecting a visitor. I haven't had one in all the nine years I've been here."
When she took a seat in a nearby chair, Blaine did as well.
"Really?" he asked with surprise. "Not even your daughters?"
"No," Serena said sadly. "I haven't seen them since they were 10 and they must be 19 by now. Have you met them?"
"Very briefly," Blaine answered."
"How are they?"
"They seemed well."
"I think about them every day," Serena sighed. "I wish I could see them again, even if in a photograph. But their father wouldn't allow it. I know he's kept them from me." Her face seemed to light up for a moment and she smiled eagerly at Blaine. "Of course. That's why you're here, to ask about my ex-husband."
Blaine looked surprised. "How'd you know that?"
Serena grinned wryly, "It's part of my mental condition . . . Where should I start? What do you want to know?"
"Everything. I've tried looking up information on him, but I can't find anything before the time that he married you."
"Then I'll start at the beginning," Serena said, leaning back more comfortably in her chair.
"I met my ex-husband when I was 17 and he breezed into town, out on holiday with his rich playboy friends. When I met him . . .I thought it was love at first sight. I knew almost nothing about him, but that didn't stop me from falling for him completely.
"I was young and he was handsome and exciting and our relationship moved very quickly. I was convinced that we were meant to be, but when the summer was over, he left without saying goodbye. I was heartbroken.
"Then, just when I thought I couldn't feel any worse, I found out Cassandra and Zara were on the way. Sebastian was gone and I had no idea how to find him. All I knew was his first name and I wasn't convinced that was his real name."
Serena paused in her story, "But you don't want to hear about me." Blaine started to protest, but Serena shushed him. "You don't have to pretend that you do. I want to tell the truth about him as much as you want to hear it, so I'll skip ahead."
"Years passed before I saw him again. I told him about the girls and even brought him to meet them. He came around after that and helped us out financially, but he never stayed for very long.
"When the girls were about 8 years old, he said he was ready to settle down and be a family with us. We got married and moved to a different town. Everything was good, for awhile anyway.
"Maybe I knew all along that something was wrong, but I wanted so much to have my happy ending that I didn't listen to that little voice inside my head. After about a year and a half I couldn't ignore it any more. I knew. I knew and I couldn't hide it. When I confronted him, I basically had a nervous breakdown and he had me committed here. But he didn't deny it."
"Didn't deny what? What did you know?" Blaine was on the edge of his seat.
"He wasn't who he said he was," Serena said, deathly calm. "He didn't decide to be with us for the reasons he said he did. He was just trying to run away from the awful problems he had gotten himself into."
Sebastian stood in front of Vanessa and looked her directly in the eye. "I'm not who you think I am."
Vanessa blinked dumbly. She wasn't sure what he meant by that comment and she was almost afraid to find out, but she had to know. When she started to speak, her mouth felt dry, "Who are you?"
"My name isn't Sebastian Barrett. My real name is Silas Rochester."
Vanessa frowned. That name meant nothing to her. "But why did you lie about that?"
"Because, according to the rest of the world, Silas Rochester is dead. May he rest in peace," he laughed coldly and started to pace the floor.
Vanessa sank slowly into a nearby chair. "Tell me," she said with firm resolve. "Tell me all of it."
"When I was young. I lived only to please myself. I was out every night partying, drinking, and gambling. I gambled away every cent I could get from my parents, which was plenty. They were wealthy and they let their children have whatever they wanted. When my parents died, my sister and her husband took over the estate, suddenly the bank was closed and I thought my fun times were over."
"My sister was good to me though. She tried to help me out, when her husband didn't get in the way. But it wasn't enough. I started borrowing money to keep up my habits and when I couldn't pay it back, the loan sharks sent their hit men after me.
"Then my sister and brother-in-law were killed unexpectedly and everything was mine. I paid back my debts and I was safe for awhile, until that money was all gone too. I was a stupid kid and didn't learn anything. I fell right back into the same trap again. Another hit was put out on me, but it missed me again. Luckily, they thought the guy they got was me and I was off the hook. I had to change my name and lie low for awhile. But I've been safe . . .until now."
"So there's a hit man after you?" Vanessa cried out.
"No. Well, maybe. If I don't go back into hiding there certainly will be," Sebastian replied. "It's my nephew. Those people who gave me that story about you getting an inheritance work for him. I saw them together. He's after his inheritance, but I spent it all years ago when he was just a kid, away at boarding school." Sebastian paused, his brows furrowed in a frown. "I don't know how far he'll go to get it back and I don't want to find out the hard way."
Vanessa closed her eyes and reminded herself to breathe. This story was overwhelming. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her husband was a fraud. Her entire marriage, a lie. She rose from her seat and walked over to the window. She kept her back to her husband and stared outside. She didn't want to look at him.
"I've kept this a secret for too long to be caught now," he was so caught up in his own worries, that it was awhile before he noticed that Vanessa seemed pale and shaking. "Vanessa . . ."
"I can't talk to you right now. . ." she paused. She didn't even know what name to call him by. Her voice started to waver, but she held it steady. "I need a minute to let this soak in."
"Take your time," Sebastian said slowly. "I'll be downstairs." He hoped the past wasn't repeating itself again. He thought to himself, "Don't betray me, Vanessa. I don't want you to end up like Serena."
Eileen stood outside Lawrence's apartment. She remembered coming here once before. She had been so embarrassed by the way that he lived, that she had turned around and left without even knocking. Soon after that she agreed to marry Hector.
She felt so stupid now about that now and she hated to come back, but she didn't know where else to go. She needed help and Lawrence was the only one she could talk to.
She took a deep breath and knocked quickly.
When Lawrence opened the door he was stunned to see Eileen standing on the other side. "Eileen."
"I'm so sorry to bother you," she said as she walked into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. "I need someone to talk to. You're the only person I could think of and I couldn't just drop by the office, not for this."
Eileen spoke too quickly for Lawrence to get a word in. But as it was, he was too surprised to even think of speaking. Once the initial surprise started to wear off, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. He didn't want Eileen to know that he lived like this.
"So will you help me?" she asked.
When Lawrence looked into her pleading eyes, he forgot all about his embarrassment about his shabby apartment. "Help you with what?"
"I'm not sure how to say this . . .I need to ask you about Hector. What do you know about him? What do you think he's . . .capable of?"
Lawrence thought for a moment. "I'm not sure how to answer that. I'm not sure what you mean."
"Do you think he could kill someone?" Eileen asked in a whisper.
"Why would you ask that?" he asked with concern.
"I think he might have murdered Clifford," Eileen said calmly. "Tell me if I'm crazy, but so many things are pointing to him. He and Clifford never got along. Then the day of the funeral Hector told me he visited Clifford the morning he died, but Lucy said no one had been to see him that morning. Then there was the nurse that he tried to set you up with, who said he had been asking her questions." She paused, but when Lawrence only replied with a thoughtful look, she continued. "I don't want to believe it. He couldn't be capable of murder, could he?"
"I couldn't say," Lawrence said slowly and Eileen's hope seemed to fade. "I know he's done dishonest things at work to get ahead. He's determined and he'd do almost anything. But murder . . .I couldn't say even he would go that far," Lawrence said doubtfully.
"Then you see my dilemma. It's too awful to admit it, but yet... it seems almost possible. I don't know what to do. But I have to find out the truth and I couldn't think of anyone else to go to."
"I'll do whatever I can to help," Lawrence promised.
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