We All Sleep Alone (Finley Creek #11) - Calle J. Brookes Page 0,51
a wheelchair in the hallway. It had been all that Jennifer could do to keep herself in check.
They’d ruined everything for her family.
Taken almost everything away from her.
Even the mayor had gotten a piece of the action. Damn him, that cocky, arrogant, spoiled little prick.
He’d destroyed her hopes of winning an election the instant he’d put out a press conference that Dennis Lee had been responsible for robbing the citizens of his beloved Finley Creek. Barratt had vowed that he would personally see to it that the entire city council was thoroughly investigated for possible corruption. That damned pretty little nurse fiancée had been at his side, a beautiful toddler on her hip, and two more boys playing at their feet. She’d still had bruises on her face that her concealer hadn’t fully hid.
The media had loved her. Loved them all. Damn them. Pretty little Miss Finley Creek now. Talk about having the key to the city.
Everyone had fallen for the spiel hook, line, and sinker. Hell, Turner Barratt was almost as well-loved as that prick Governor Marcus Deane and his own wife and picture-perfect children.
Even they were connected to those little bitches from the hospital and that W4HAV. Caine Alvaro was the governor’s brother-in-law, after all. That damned Nikkie Jean Netorre was making no secret of her new connection to the governor and his wife.
Jennifer couldn’t compete against that. No one mere mortal could.
Barratts and Deanes and Carringtons—the connections were inbred in the people she was competing against. She had her own uphill battle now.
That was nothing compared to what her son was going to have to deal with it. Jennifer exhaled again. She had to gain control of herself. Anger wasn’t productive. No matter what, she had to focus on Reggie’s needs now.
She had nothing of value to bring against those of that kind of privilege. Nothing had ever been given to her.
Not like them.
Everything she had, she had earned and built herself. Old inadequacies were about to rear their ugly heads and she knew it.
Jennifer had been plagued with them her entire adult life.
Yes, her marriage had helped, but if Jennifer hadn’t taken over, Wallace would have remained a no-name doctor practicing in the poorest hospital in Philly. They’d probably still be in the small, two-room apartment they’d shared when they’d first had Reggie.
Medical school had been expensive for her husband; scholarships hadn’t covered everything. Wallace had had to pay his way.
Nothing to show for all their hard work at all. Her hard work, at that. All those times she had had to push him just to get him even one step up the ladder. She’d manipulated and traded favors for years to get him hired on at the best hospital in the state. She’d banked on it paying off for him in the long run.
It had. Until the day Wallace had ruined everything.
Not that she had much now; not with Wallace rotting in jail.
Anger at what he’d done warred with primal fear for him.
She would always love him. Always. He…she had been able to count on him through everything. Except for his affairs. They were his fatal weakness and she knew that. All those women tempting him—he was so weak when it came to his dick.
She’d led him around by it for decades.
They’d created a life together. Thirty-five years. It would be thirty-five years next Thursday. Without him, she wouldn’t be where she was today, be as successful as she was.
She’d used him for that, and Jennifer knew it.
Other than the infidelity, he’d been the perfect husband. Kind and attentive to her every need, almost before she needed them.
That wasn’t anything to sneeze at.
Many women would have loved to have a man attuned to her that strongly.
Thirty of those years had been nothing but a lie.
Wallace had screwed around with a blond nurse not even five years after their wedding. Maybe earlier.
She wasn’t absolutely certain that damned Nikkie Jean Netorre wasn’t Wallace’s daughter, either. Wallace had always been so almost enthralled by Jordan Carrington’s family back then.
A child would be rather hard to forgive.
Especially a daughter. Affairs were bad enough, but an illegitimate child was something else she wouldn’t be able to handle.
She’d not gotten a close look at Dr. Netorre, but she didn’t look much like Darla or Jordan. The girl was a bit unremarkable and didn’t truly favor either parent over the other. There were common features with both her supposed parents. Enough to make Jennifer doubt.