Wicked Knight (22 page)

With malice written all over his face, Sebastian unrolled the picture.

“What the fuck!” Bors roared. “Where the fuck did you get that, huh? I'm going to wring your fucking fat neck, Sebastian.”

“Take it easy, bro. You know about this, Tristan?” Gawain asked. His breathing was fast, obviously trying to contain the urge to leap at Sebastian.

“Yes. I want everyone to see it.”

Julie's head whipped around to look at Tristan. He wasn't looking at her, but at Marla. What was he doing? The soft squeeze he gave Julie told her he was planning something.

Marla laughed, sounding like a shopping cart with a broken wheel. “You are so stupid. Here you are, announcing you two are getting married and he just sold you to everyone here, including his brothers. If this man loves you, he wouldn't want everyone to see your picture. Pathetic.”

Julie forced herself not to stomp her foot. “I'm not stupid.”

The front door opened. Kirsten came walking in and stopped dead in her tracks. Katherine and Arthur following her stopped, too. “Oh my God. Julie?”

“What the hell is this? Take that picture down,” Arthur ordered.

“No. So are these your future in-laws, huh, Julie? Well, take a good look, Julie's future in-laws. This is the kind of woman your son plans to marry. She's as good as a whore.”

“Excuse me! Don't talk to Julie like that,” Kirsten yelled.

“Why not? It's about time you learn what she truly is.”

“You are Marla, right?” Arthur stepped forward. “And you are Attorney Smith.”

“Right,” answered Smith. “And you are? Oh! Judge Knight?”

Julie couldn't believe it. Smith's jaw dropped. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

“Yes.”

“The Judge Arthur Knight.”

“Last time I checked. You know another one?”

“No, sir.”

“This kind of picture is not what a father in-law wants to see. It's definitely inappropriate and obscene, but we are not going to turn our backs on one of us because she made a mistake. Julie
is
one of us. Through laughter and hardships we are going to stand by her.”

Julie felt hot tears run down her cheeks. She looked at Arthur without bothering to wipe her tears and gave him a big hug. “Thank you.”

“Touching. Well, you go on ahead and stick together. I don't care. The reason why I am here is to claim what belongs to Paul.”

“Julie,” Weatherholt started. “I—”

“That picture is a fake.”

* * * *

Tristan had enough. He thought maybe there was a way to avoid this, but he just couldn't stand Marla anymore. For sure, Julie would be embarrassed with what he was about to do, considering his whole family was here watching the whole scene. Although they would never hate Julie—they loved her too much to feel that way—he knew his brothers would never leave him and Julie alone.

Should he do this? Should he point out what was missing in the picture? Tristan weighed his options.

“My brother is a computer graphic artist and analyst for the government. He could tell me if this is a real picture or a computer simulated one. If this is a fake, Percival will be able to trace who made this. It's a crime, I'm sure you all know. And we'll make sure the person who did this spends time in jail.” He watched Marla's face turn ashen. Now he had the upper hand and snow would cover hell before he gave them any chance of getting away with this preposterous accusation.

“Of course it is not a fake. Julie's manager gave this copy to me. And didn't Julie say she remembered posing like this?”

Smith cleared his throat. Marla immediately stopped talking to look at him. If Tristan wasn't looking at Marla, he would have missed the look she gave him. The kind one would give to her lover.
Son of a bitch
.

“As Marla's lawyer, I would like to say that it is clear Julie has lost all her rights to Laura's properties.”

“Fortune,” Marla corrected.

Smith's nostrils flared. Evidently he didn't like to be corrected. He pasted on a smile and then continued, “Yes, fortune. With this evidence,” he pointed at the picture, “as you all can see, I say we end this conversation so Weatherholt and I can proceed to transferring everything to Julie's father, Paul.”

“Not so fast, Smith. Son,” Arthur turned to look at Tristan, “what made you think the picture is a fake?”

“Marla, you said you got this picture from Julie's manager. Did you pay him?” Tristan's voice was controlled, even though inside he was fuming. This was it. Julie would just have to face everyone.

“I didn't pay Rick. He was more than willing to give me this copy. Apparently, Julie brushed his proposal aside and hurt his ego. So he wanted to get even.”

“What a prick,” Julie mumbled low, but Tristan heard her.

“Who is this Rick, Julie?”

“Mom, he's Julie's manager and photographer at
Gap
. He's also the reason why Julie quit modeling for that company,” Kirsten answered Katherine.

“Rick is a photographer. He must be good in computer graphics also. All he needed was a program and he could put Julie's headshot on someone else's body. The result would be that.”

“I don't see any sign that the body doesn't belong to Julie,” Marla huffed. Although her voice missed a little bit of its bite.

“Well, Doctor Knight. To end this lunacy, why don't you tell us what you saw in this picture to doubt its authenticity?”

“It's not what I saw, but what I am not seeing.”

He heard Julie's indrawn breath. She finally caught on. She knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Well, what aren't we seeing here?” Marla snapped.

“A birthmark.”

Julie groaned beside him. He hoped she'd forgive him for letting the leaches know—especially Sebastian—about her mark. Damn, it would have been easier for him to tell them about it if the mark was somewhere lower. Above her knees or in the middle of her thigh. Sadly the seahorse-shaped mark wasn't.

“If you look below her Tensor Fasciae Latae, you'll see the femoral triangle. Below that is Sartorius. On the right side of the Sartorius is Adductores. Move up a bit and there should be a birthmark.”

It took a few minute before everyone started talking at once. Julie looked up at him and he thought he glimpsed a smile. Using the scientific term for the parts of her thigh was all he could do to soften the blow of her embarrassment.

“Could you tell us again where this birthmark should be?” Smith asked, smiling as if he knew exactly where the birthmark was and why he avoided saying the exact location in layman's terms.

“Where exactly the location of the mark is, is not important here, but the fact that this body is not Julie's. She will prove it if necessary.”

“Show it to me,” Marla demanded.

“Only if there's a request from court will I only show you my birthmark. How dare you come here accusing me of posing nude? Will nothing stop you from going after my mother's money? You are one greedy, shameless bitch, Marla.”

“Ha! Me? Whose picture is that? You are the fucking bitch, just like your mother.”

Slap!
Marla staggered backward from the blow. She looked at her lawyer, but he seemed unconcerned about Marla.

“Don't you ever talk about my mother again! You don't even deserve to say her name. Next time, I'll pull your hairpiece out and burn it in the fireplace.”

Priceless, Tristan thought. His Julie Strawberry, standing tall and determined, made him so proud.
His
Julie. Man, this feels good, he thought.

“Smith,” Arthur started. “I am sure you are aware of defamation, libel, and slander law?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Well, you'd better brief your client because you'll face me—us, in court.”

“Fine. Sue me. I will make your life miserable, Julie. You will never get a penny when I am done with you. I don't care if your mother—Nooo!” Marla's cry echoed around the house. She was looking at her hairpiece Julie was holding with a shocked looked on her face.

“I warned you, bitch.”

“Yeah, I am shameless greedy bitch and you can't do anything about it.”

“But I can.”

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Chapter Fifteen

* * * *

Everyone turned to look at the man standing by the door except for Julie. It had been eight months since she'd heard his voice. Rough and ravaged by long years from drinking, Julie would recognize that voice anywhere, anytime. What was her father doing here? Julie forced herself to look where her father stood. Paul wasn't looking at her, but around the house, most likely taking inventory of what would be his or he wished would be his.

But when he spoke, Julie thought she was looking at a totally different man. She blinked but Paul was still there. The man who tormented her mother emotionally by coming home covered with the scent of a woman's perfume. The man who was short-tempered and quick to land a blow on her mother's body whenever she asked him about where he had been. The man Julie couldn't recall giving her a hug instead of a sneer. The man who never paid attention to her, except when he needed her to get his bottle of whiskey because he was too drunk to get up from his chair.

He aged, Julie thought. He wasn't the handsome womanizer anymore. Dark bags under his eyes made him look older. His cheeks were gaunt and his hair thin.

“What are you doing here, Paul dear? I thought you were sick.”

Paul ignored Marla and walked straight until he was standing close to the poster size picture. “You did this.” He didn't asked Marla, but said the words as a matter of fact.

“Well...Paul, your daughter did this unspeakable thing. Not me. I just showed the proof of her indecency.”

“Stop, Marla. It's over.”

Paul shook his head with his shoulders slumped. A sign of resignation Tristan recognized right away.

“Dragging my daughter's name would be the last thing I wanted to happen.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you drunk again? Didn't you see what happened? Your daughter disrespected me.”

“Enough. No more of your lies, Marla. I've had enough of your evil tricks.” Paul shook his head from side to side, his face in obvious agony.

Tristan felt the bite of Julie's nails against his arm and hand. If the room temperature was below twenty degrees Fahrenheit, Tristan would understand why Julie was shaking so badly. But it wasn't. In fact, the room was warm, generated by everyone's body heat. He looked down at Julie and he understood why. She shook from controlling to show her emotions. She looked as stoic as a statue could be.

“You're drunk!”

“Shut up, Marla. I have had enough of you and your vile son, and your lawyer.”

“Don't shut me up, you imbecile. All I've been doing is help you get your hands on your dead wife's money and you're talking to me as if—”

“You're doing more than chasing after Laura's money. I know about you and Smith.”

Marla sputtered. Smith's face turned blotchy. He suddenly looked like he was suffering from some kind of a bad allergic reaction. Julie didn't move from where she stood. The Knights still flanked her and they were all quiet. She'd never been around the Knights so quiet like this.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Paul. You're sick and shouldn't have left the house. My, you're probably hallucinating. You should go home.”

“I will, as soon as I settle this issue once and for all. You and your son though, aren't stepping back in my house.”

“The hell I can't. Your house—”

“Is
mine.
And what's Julie's will remain hers.”

“Not until she gets married. Until then, you and I have the right to—”

“Not anymore. I am filing for a divorce.”

Marla squeaked the word
what
. She looked at Smith, obviously waiting for his help, but the lawyer simply shrugged his shoulders. “Imbecile!” She snatched her bag, then snapped her fingers. “Let's go, Sebastian. We are not over, Paul. As your wife, I am entitled to get half of everything. Make no mistake, I will make your life a living hell unless I get what I want.”

Teta had already opened the door for Marla, Sebastian and Smith. Marla was still yelling something to Paul when Teta slammed the door in her face. Teta smiled big.

Without Marla yakking about, the house fell silent again. Julie broke the silence. “I didn't expect you here.”

“Why would you?”

“How did you know Marla was here and what she was up to?”

“Weatherholt told me.” Paul ran his fingers through his graying thin hair. His fingers shook. “Julie, I know what I've done to you and your mother is unforgivable. Nothing I could say or do right now will make things right. I was never a father to you. Probably for as far as you could remember, I was just a figure in the house. And you have the right to think that way. I have no right to you as your father and I have no right to your mother's fortune as her husband, but we cannot change the fact that I am your father. As one, I want to exercise my right to intervene.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know about your plan to marry to stop Marla from coming after you. You don't have to do it now. Julie, you have another way to sever the will's binding.”

“What?”

“Yes. I kept it to myself because truthfully I want what Marla wants.” Paul coughed. The sound told Julie her father was sick. It was an ugly sound, almost like a thunder inside his chest.

Julie waited until her father's hacking cough stopped. “Why now, Dad?”

Paul shook his head. His face had gone bright red from the exertion. “The whys don't matter, Julie. What's important is that no one would bother you now, married or not. I signed the papers relinquishing everything to you and ending the will's condition.”

“You are my other out.”

“Yes. You're not the only one your mother put to test when she added the stipulation on the will. She knew that someday I would step in as a father should to help his daughter. Weatherholt will give you the papers.” Paul looked at the Knights surrounding her.

“Sir, my name is Tristan Knight, and this is my family.”

“Paul Rhodes. Julie's father.” He extended his hand.

The men shook hands. “Glad to meet you, sir.”