Sins of Her Father by Kathleen Mix

Author:Kathleen Mix
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Entangled;Select;Suspense;romantic suspense;romance;revenge;corporate spy;opposites attract;playboy
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2015-08-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Monday morning, Faith resisted the urge to sit daydreaming about her weekend with Kent and focused all her attention on her goal. She phoned The Palm Beach Examiner and asked to speak with Leesa St. James.

“St. James.”

“Good morning, Ms. St. James. I have an explosive story I believe you’ll be interested in hearing. Is there a possibility you could meet me for lunch?”

At the stroke of noon, Leesa St. James walked into the restaurant. Faith signaled her, and the reporter sat.

“Sorry, but I can’t stay long enough to eat. You said you wanted to discuss an explosive story.”

Her spirit buoyed by hope, Faith crossed her fingers in her lap and pulled in a deep breath. “Would you be interested in writing an article about a prominent Palm Beach businessman who is actually a rapist and has gotten away with his crime?”

“That depends. Who is he? And do you have proof?”

“Victor Telemann, CEO of Emmeline’s Department Store chain. Yes, I have proof.”

Leesa pulled a pen and notebook from her shoulder bag, placed them on the table, and sat forward. “Telemann. Rape. Hm…what kind of proof do you have?”

“My mother’s diary, and the page from the night that he raped her.”

“Will your mother swear an affidavit that her claim of rape is true?”

“She can’t, she’s dead.”

Leesa twisted her mouth and shook her head. “Then you don’t even have proof a rape occurred?”

“I’m sitting here. I was conceived that night.”

“It’s an interesting angle, but I can’t print an unsubstantiated accusation. I’d need DNA to prove he’s your father, and an expert’s opinion that the diary is—how old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“— at least twenty-five years and nine months old and not in your handwriting. Were there any witnesses? Police reports? Any proof you’re not being spiteful and making this up?”

Faith’s hope began to fizzle. “No.”

Leesa sighed and put away her notebook. “I hate to see criminals escape punishment. If you can get me something with more teeth in it, I’ll be happy to write the story, but I can’t do much with the little that you’ve told me. I’d be slapped with a libel suit, and my editor would kill me.”

“I understand. I’ve been trying to find more proof, and I’m not giving up until I do.”

Leesa handed Faith her business card. “That’s the spirit. You never know when you’ll find the key piece of information and the situation will burst wide open. That’s my private cell number and email. If you get anything else, call me right away.”

“I will.”

Faith sighed and watched the reporter walk away. Plan C wasn’t a complete bust yet, but neither was it looking good.

…

On Wednesday, Faith reviewed her latest download of Victor’s emails. The first two were the online equivalent of phone sex, pornographic invitations from his mistress that she closed quickly after reading the first sentences.

She thought of making love to Kent and how much she wanted his hands on her body again. Desire quivered low in her abdomen and her cheeks burned hotter. How pathetic could she get? Her inexperience had probably killed his interest.

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