The Emerald Ring Read online

  The Emerald Ring

  Dara Girard

  Contents

  The Emerald Ring

  Prologue

  The Present

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  The Past

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  The Present

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Epilogue

  Also Available

  About the Author

  Copyright Information

  The Emerald Ring

  Dara Girard

  * * *

  Published by ILORI PRESS BOOKS LLC

  www.iloripressbooks.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Author.

  * * *

  About the book

  Successful business woman, Michelle Clifton, knows the pain of loss. She lost her parents to illness and the man she loved left her. Now she may lose the one thing she holds dear: her business.

  When Michelle receives a notice that her lease won’t be renewed, she fears that her wealthy and powerful estranged husband, James Winfield, may be behind the threat. However, she won’t go down without a fight, even if that means facing him again.

  And the secrets they shared.

  Dark secrets that will either come to light or destroy the love they’d once had, tearing them apart—forever.

  The thrilling conclusion to the Clifton Sisters trilogy.

  Prologue

  Delaware early 1900s

  The pain came as a surprise, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Wynette Clarise Martin winced and shifted her position on the hard wooden chair knowing she’d find no comfort no matter what position she eventually found. She hadn’t known she was pregnant when she left her husband seven months ago for an amazing deal her uncle (she was never sure that there was any real blood relations between her mother and this man, but called him Uncle just the same) had told her about. Her husband had been wary, but Wynette had seen no other way they could make it to America. She dreamed of finding a place for them and starting a new life. Although she had attended school, she did not finish and dropped out at fifteen. She began working full-time with her mother who made her living as a seamstress. Her uncle told her that with her sewing skills, (she had acquired her mother’s exceptional skill at being able to sew anything she saw perfectly) she could make a good living in America and that he had a contact. Wynette agreed to going to America and her uncle made all the travel arrangements.

  She’d arrived in Miami, Florida in the spring, and was met by a woman, whose name was given to her by her uncle. The woman took her to a small hotel, and told her that her employer would be coming for her in a couple of days. She had no way to send news to her husband. Over the next several weeks, Wynette found herself working in dingy basements, backrooms, and other hovels, all the while having to work on various garments given to her. She spent most of her time sewing different items, from dresses to shirts to trousers, and getting paid ‘piece meal’ wages per item. She kept the money hidden by sewing them into her personal undergarments, which she wore at all times. They offered to keep her wages for her, but she didn’t trust them.

  Then one morning, without any warning, she was awaken early, before light, and bundled up into a van along with several other women. She was driven several miles, the journey taking more than a day, and ended up being left with a family and told that they were now her new employers. A finely dressed couple, Mr. and Mrs. Emery who had smiling faces, skin the color of chocolate milk and cold eyes.

  Mr. Emery showed her a piece of paper, while his hand tried to wander where it shouldn’t, and said that she owed them for her transportation and room and board, and would have to work for them for at least ten years. Although Wynette could read, she did not understand all that was written on the paper, and when she asked for a copy, Mr. Emery said she would get it when her contract was up. It was soon after that Wynette found out she was pregnant. Delighted by the news she eagerly told her new employers, hoping it would soften their hearts or at least give her a reprieve to return home, even briefly, but she’d been wrong. Instead Mrs. Emery’s eyes turned even colder and Wynette’s work load increased.

  With the precious spare moments she could find, hidden away in the basement of the Emery’s house, Wynette wrote many letters. First to her uncle (hoping he could help her) and then to her husband (desperate to share the news of their baby), but as the months passed with no reply from either of them, Wynette knew the letters had never been sent or had been intercepted. And she feared she’d never see the sweet face of her husband ever again. He’d been right to be wary and she wished she’d listened to him. But, as if he’d known they’d be parted, he’d left her with a piece of himself and it helped her to endure. In the day she thought of him and at night she imagined his hands touching her arms, touching her belly with a smile dancing on his lips; she imagined his arms wrapped around her, keeping her safe in the shelter of his embrace as they lay together in bed. At times it felt as if he were there as if she could hear his voice. For the past several months the days had been filled with waiting. Waiting to see him again, waiting for the baby to come.

  Now the waiting was over, the arrival was imminent. Wynette glanced at the stack of dresses then looked at her watch. She was ahead of schedule but that didn’t mean she could be slack. She took a deep breath as another tinge of discomfort struck her, but she dealt with it as stoically as she’d dealt with everything in her nineteen years. Like leaving school to help her mother full-time with her many orders since her mother’s work kept them clothed and fed or handling her mother’s unexpected passing.

  At first she’d married her husband so she wouldn’t be alone. He’d seemed to appear just when she needed him with no one else from her parish knowing much about him or his people, but to her surprise she’d quickly grown to love him. But love was not enough to live on and life was hard and making a living wage a struggle, so she’d written to her uncle. She’d never dreamed that although she loved to sew she would be doing it for ten hours a day, six days a week, alone in a room with one window too high up to look through.

  Be calm. I am with you.

  Wynette ran the material through the sewing machine with a slight smile, feeling the comfort of her lover’s presence. She knew the sound of the machine would be what her baby knew. Its rhythmic motion like a lullaby.

/>   She quickly, but efficiently, finished her last task, beads of sweat pooling on her forehead from the present physical labor and the anticipation of the one to come.

  She lifted herself from the chair and walked over to the door, rubbing her back hoping to ease the tension, then knocked on the locked door, signaling that she was done.

  It wasn’t opened immediately as usual. Usually, Mr. or Mrs. Emery waited by the door at a certain hour ready to take the finished garments and leave. She feared that perhaps this time no one was there. She cast an eye on the old twin bed in the corner. She didn’t want to have her baby there. She knocked again.

  The door swung open. Mrs. Emery pursed her lips and said, “You’re finished already?”

  Wynette nodded and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Yes, and my time has come.”

  Mrs. Emery glanced down at Wynette’s swollen belly in disgust. Her disgust had been growing more evident each day, each month as the baby took hold of Wynette’s petite form and molded it into something new.

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded again. “Quite sure.”

  “Take a seat.” Mrs. Emery motioned to the only chair in the room, the one behind the sewing machine. “I’ll get you some water.”

  The last thing Wynette wanted was to be behind that wretched machine again. She took a deep breath, determined to keep her tone low and respectful. “Thank you, but I don’t need water right now. I need—”

  The door closed in her face. She heard the lock engage. Wynette rested a hand against the wall and lowered her head. She would not panic. She had time.

  But the glass of water did not come. And the pain increased. She banged on the door again.

  The door opened.

  Wynette took a deep breath, gasped between contractions and said, “Please, I need to go to the hospital.”

  “The doctor is on his way. You shouldn’t be standing up in your condition anyway. ” Mrs. Emery motioned to the bed. “You can rest there.” She walked past her and set the glass on the ground.

  Wynette didn’t argue, carefully lowering herself on the edge of the bed. “But—”

  “Has your water broken yet?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Have you wet yourself?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” She folded her arms. “Don’t look at me that way. You’re lucky I’m being as considerate as possible.” She narrowed her eyes. “I know what you are. I know what you did.”

  The woman was mad, paranoid. Wynette had suspected as much the first time she’d seen her but she knew it even more now. No matter how many times she’d repeated it over the past several months Mrs. Emery refused to believe her, but she would say it again until she did. “I was never with your husband.”

  “We will soon see the proof.”

  Don’t argue. Her husband’s voice said to her. I am with you. Focus on being a mother to our child now.

  A renewed strength filled her and almost without knowing what she was doing, as if she was being led, she moved to the side of the bed and got down on her knees.

  Good, breathe with each movement. Your body knows the rest.

  “What are you doing?” Mrs. Emery said.

  Wynette didn’t reply, she closed her eyes and centered herself, letting her body move with the waves of pain, letting it do its natural dance of bringing forth life.

  “At least get up in the bed, don’t just squat there.”

  Breathe, breathe, breathe.

  Wynette breathed and moaned; she breathed and groaned. She thought she screamed but she wasn’t sure, she focused on her husband—calling her, calming her, soothing her, loving her. She wasn’t alone. Waves and waves of pain—biting, agonizing, terrifying then....then relief.

  My brave darling.

  The baby was out. Alive and well. She wrapped him up, but before she could hold him close Mr. Emery arrived with another man behind him. She could tell by their expressions what they had in mind.

  “No!”

  He snatched the baby from her arms while the other man placed something over her mouth.

  And once more she heard her love’s voice. Be strong my love. I will avenge you.

  The Present

  Chapter 1

  mid 2000s

  She wouldn’t tell anyone.

  Michelle Clifton stared at the notice in her left hand while drumming the fingers on her right against the impressive oak desk in her downtown office, searching her mind for the right response. She wanted to rip the certified letter into shreds. Crumple it into a ball, soak it with gasoline and torch it.

  But somehow that still didn’t feel good enough. Nothing seemed right to douse the rage she felt crawling over her skin, burning her heart. They were trying to ruin her.

  Michelle set the letter down on the desk and took a deep breath. No, a hot, reckless temper was her youngest sister Jessie’s territory. She was the cool one. The one who used her head, who’d learned the heart could be one’s greatest betrayer. No, she wouldn’t get angry and she wouldn’t tell anyone that she wasn’t getting her office lease renewed. No one needed to know that she may have to move her business elsewhere. No, no one needed to know because she wasn’t moving anywhere. They wouldn’t force her out.

  As the owner of the Clifton Center for Business and Enterprise—CCBE for short—the location in the exclusive Winfield Building and its fabulous view of the downtown area and Catlon Bay in Randall County, Maryland had been ideal not just for her image—it screamed wealth and success and had clients and customers flocking to her—but for the people she sought to help. Getting to the prime location by either car or public transport was a breeze. Finding another location with the same advantages wouldn’t be easy or as financially possible, but of course the Winfields knew that and didn’t care.

  No, she wouldn’t tell anyone that her in-laws were trying to force her out. The powerful Winfields were a worthy adversary. She felt almost flattered that they somehow still saw her as a threat. There was no other reason they wanted to get rid of her. They owned numerous real estate properties, a lucrative construction business both in the US and abroad, a distribution center, a fashion line and several warehouses. In comparison, she was as threatening as a mosquito on the ass of an elephant. But for some reason they didn’t think so.

  Michelle touched the corner of the letter and slowly spun the paper around, listening to the soft whisper of sound as it shifted on the desk. There was a hidden motive here. They had left her alone for years after James had left. What did they truly want? She stopped spinning the letter, folded it up and placed it back in its envelope. She would have to find out before another notice came. No one in her company needed to know about her in-law’s involvement, it would only cause them to worry. She was a single woman but all of her employees and contractors had families who depended on her. Depended on her to keep CCBE operating and profitable.

  She would handle this situation on her own just as she had everything else she’d faced in life. It was better that way. Less messy and emotional. It kept her in control and over the past several years she’d learned that control was everything. She would always control the story she told and if she couldn’t…she would leave blank spaces for speculation and never fill in the details. That had its power. Mystery was an excellent weapon.

  And she knew there was plenty of mystery that surrounded her. Nobody knew why her marriage had broken up or where her estranged husband, James, was. Nobody knew why she’d remained in the office complex on the eighth floor that he’d given her only a year after they’d married. “It’s yours,” she remembered him saying when he’d removed his hands from her eyes and shown her the sprawling office layout. Even when he’d left he’d promised that the space would always be hers.

  Clearly he’d lied.

  Michelle leaned back in her seat, briefly glancing out at a boat bobbing along the calm waters of the bay on that cool summer day. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. She’d spent too much of her
life building up her business and making it a success. The Winfields had not wanted her as an in-law and she’d dealt with their subtle insults both before and after her marriage, but she’d grown stronger since then.

  She’d lost her parents, her sisters had moved out and married, her husband had left her and all she had was her business. A cold smile filled with determination touched her lips. She’d hang on with bloody knuckles if need be. It was the principle of it. They didn’t need the space.

  They owed her. He owed her. She wouldn’t try to find him. She didn’t care where he was. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone. Besides, she wouldn’t stoop so low as to beg him to talk to his family to reverse this decision. She would face Martha Winfield herself. The woman who had once believed that Michelle was good enough for her grandson and now had changed her mind. Martha had been one of the few who’d been her champion, this notice felt like a betrayal. Now the Winfields could gloat that they’d been right all along. She wasn’t one of them. ‘Not quite their sort’.