Torn

By Yolanda Klem

The twists and turns in the plot kept me guessing. I love it when authors surprise me with an ending! Kate Wong

The past two years had been grueling on Maureen; her infant childs sudden death caused incredible strain on her marriage and her mind. A year later, her husband Patrick was missing, presumably dead, when his body was never recovered from a plane crash over the South African Atlantic Ocean. Now a widow, Maureen will have to wait eight years to find out why Patrick left his entire wealth to an undisclosed person and her flat broke in a last minute change to his will a week before his death. With her lawyer, Sally Burton, by her side, Maureen will dig for answers during a faceoff with the formidable Grace Monroe in a court battle that will surely shock them all.

"inventive, absorbing, surprising a lot of fun to read."
-Karen S. Davis, award-winning author of Santa Anita Morning Rhapsody

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468556391

Yolanda Klem

Yolanda Klem was born in Rochester, New York where she earned her degree in Criminal Justice. After living in Canada, where she obtained her teaching degree, she traveled the world as an International Teacher specializing in Business English before getting married and settling into life as a military wife and mother of two toddlers. When not writing, you can find her reading, gardening, or chasing her children. Vist her website www.yklem.com for her lastest information, books, and contact.

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© 2012 by Yolanda Klem. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/18/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-5641-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-5640-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-5639-1 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012903322

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Dedication

For my mother, who ingrained in me the wise saying, nothing beats a failure but a try. Words I’ve come to live by. Thank you, Mommy, for giving me the spirit of optimism in everything I do.

Chapter One

It had been seven long years since Patrick’s disappearance. Death in absentia was what the court called it. Maureen called it freedom.

Getting him declared legally dead had been no walk in the park. Sure, it was hell going through hearing after hearing, trying to prove there was no way her husband was ever coming back, fighting through the fake tears of a widow to retell the story of how their last fight left her brokenhearted. None of it made any impression on the court.

Maureen was specific about why she believed her missing husband dead—everything from his plane crashing on the Africa coast to the African government’s inability to identify her husband’s remains from the many that were found. The court listened to every argument, every detail she and her attorney could provide. Each time it ruled against them. There was no proof of his plane ever having been in the vicinity of the tsunami that hit Port Elizabeth all those years ago. And, because the plane was presumed downed in international waters, there was an issue of jurisdiction. The deck was stacked against Maureen. The court found no basis to believe Patrick’s plane had been in imminent peril. With no proof of peril, no evidence of a plane crash, and no bodies to identify, there was little to do but wait.

The law was clear on this issue: only after a person had been declared missing for seven years could he be declared legally dead. Even after the new 9/11 law took effect that allowed the governing mediator and judge to move the mandatory wait time from seven years to three, the court was unwilling to listen to her until seven years had passed. When the mandatory time elapsed, the court would entertain her petition.

Part of the reason for this, besides the absence of bodies or plane parts, was the rather handsome $4.5 million life insurance policy she would receive, not to mention a substantial estate. Not bad for only four years of marriage.

Maureen knew the first day she laid eyes on Patrick that she had an all-day sucker who would do any and everything to keep her happy, in life and in death. All she had to do was fake a few orgasms, pop out a child, and pretend to be the perfect wife for six months each year. Six months was the total amount of time Patrick was home in a year—never consecutively, of course, but it gave her brief periods of reprieve from her wifely duties. When she became pregnant with Lily, Patrick showered Maureen with diamonds, pearls, the finest maternity clothing, a new car with a chauffeur, and an in-house chef to ensure proper nutrition for mother and child. She was treated like a queen and felt like one.

Patrick made a point to be home more often so he could pamper his wife, the mother of his child, during these once-in-a-lifetime days. He would rub her down from head to foot. Often he would lay his face on her ballooning stomach to catch the faint kicks of the unborn child. He read stories to her belly and put an extra blanket over her to make sure the baby was warm enough. Maureen couldn’t have anticipated how things would change between her and Patrick after Lily was born.

It was almost as if Maureen were not there. Patrick came home from his business trips and went straight to the baby’s room, often sleeping in the room with the child in his arms. He made love to Maureen only once in the year following Lily’s birth, and that was nothing to call out God’s name about. When Lily became sick, Patrick was home too often. For the next six months, he never left her side, except to shower and check his emails. He slept, ate, and watched television in Lily’s bedroom. After the baby’s death, Patrick all but disappeared from the face of the earth. He rarely came home, except for religious holidays.

A devoted Mormon, Patrick insisted they attend all sacrament meetings, or church services to the rest of the world, together, as "a family. It wasn’t so bad being married to a Mormon. In fact, it was a piece of cake. Patrick didn’t drink alcohol or even coffee. No drugs. Not a single sordid thing that could defile His temple. The one thing that did bother Maureen about Patrick’s faith was the tithing. She just couldn’t understand who in his right mind would give the church—clearly a place not run by God—ten percent of his earnings. Often Patrick gave more.

Maureen was sure Patrick was in one of those heavens he’d always talked about reserved for the faithful and pious. He had been faithful to a fault, and definitely pious. He believed in giving back and urged Maureen to join a charitable organization, insisting she’d feel a love and joy she could never achieve through normal channels of self-gratification. Obviously Patrick had never heard of the Jack Rabbit, and the extreme female pleasure its thrusting and beaded massages have provided millions of women. Maureen’s rabbit had a position of honor in her bedroom and in her appointment book. A man may have invented the vibrator to relieve the carpal tunnel syndrome of Victorian doctors, but it was a woman who perfected the vibrator that hippy-hopped its way into the homes and hearts of all women. No amount of charitable work could ever compare to its joys, but Maureen gave it a try.

Now, more than seven years after the plane crash, years of litigation, and countless prayers (although in vain), Maureen was finally going to get what she deserved. The big pay-out. And that insurance check was just the tip of the iceberg. The first thing she would do would be to shop in Milan, then Paris, with a grand finale in NYC. Yes, her mother taught her well. Marry money and live happily ever after.

Mother was the epitome of marrying well. Four husbands, all dead, three of whom left over $2 million in life insurance, payable to the widow. With no children other than Maureen from her first marriage, Mother had no one with whom to split the inheritance. Mother was definitely Maureen’s inspiration.

Just one more week until her meeting with Grace, then payday, and all of Maureen’s cares would disappear. Maureen sat in front of the marble fireplace in her favorite oversized lounger, her long porcelain-white legs stretched out before her. She held her vodka tonic high in the air in a mock salute, the light from the fireplace causing a spectacular light show as it bounced around the room, refracted through her crystal glass. Thank you, Patrick. You were a devoted husband in life and death. To God be the glory.

Chapter Two

S on of a bitch!

Maureen whispered through clenched teeth as a river-blue vein appeared on the porcelain skin of her right temple. She was sitting in the pristine office of Grace Monroe, the high-powered attorney in charge of Patrick’s will and estate. The day had started out warm and bright, but as it wore on ominous clouds seemed to threaten a hurricane or some other natural disaster. Maureen had no idea how disastrous the day would be.

After the death of their child, Patrick had made some changes to his will and trust, and it no longer included Maureen. According to the will, since they had not produced any children as required by their prenuptial agreement, Maureen was not entitled to a red cent. Furthermore, Patrick had left all of their wealth—money, properties in four states and two countries, cars, clothing, furs, artwork, and God knows what else—to an undisclosed beneficiary.

How in hell could he do this without my knowledge? I was his wife, and two notarized signatures were required for all changes. Maureen spoke in a controlled fashion, careful not to allow the sudden hot feeling boiling up from the pit of her stomach to spew and burn up any chance of getting information that could help her. She brushed a stray lock of her ginger hair behind her right ear, allowing her hand to fall gracefully back to her lap. Breathe, Maureen. Breathe.

Calmly, authoritatively, Grace said simply, It was his prerogative. Once the prenuptial agreement was breeched, all other agreements defaulted and you no longer had any say on the wealth Patrick accumulated before, during, or after your marriage. She casually swiveled her chair to the side and crossed her legs at the knees, folding her hands in her lap tepee fashion.

Maureen blinked once without shifting in the hand-crafted Italian leather chair, although she really wanted to jump across the smooth, gleaming ebony desk that separated her from Grace and pummel that prim little priss into a bloody pulp. What about her interests? How was she supposed to survive—to live the life she’d become accustomed to? For Christ’s sake, Patrick had been dead almost eight years! Why hadn’t that slut of an attorney told her about this? Did she forget to pay the phone bill? Had both her hands been broken? Maybe she’d contracted viral meningitis and couldn’t dictate one single fucking letter to one of her three assistants in eight fucking years?

What can I do about this, Grace? Maureen was scared by the chill in her own voice.

Grace had a solemn smirk on her chaste, ivory face. Unfortunately, I am unable to advise you further in this matter. Once the prenuptial agreement was breeched, I no longer represented you or your interest. Actually, I am doing you a favor by disclosing this much to you, but I feel you have a right to hear this from someone who knows you and the situation. Since Patrick is dead, I represent the estate and the undisclosed beneficiary who controls all of Patrick’s wealth. You understand. Also, I feel I should inform you that the house in Florida, penthouse in Manhattan, and other properties in the U.S. and abroad, aside from the home in Arizona which Patrick’s parents live in, will be up for auction at the end of the month. A formal notice was scheduled to be delivered to your home via courier service tomorrow. But, since you are here… Grace pressed a hidden button on her desk, and two inscrutable men in black, who looked more like bodyguards than legal assistants, appeared instantly with two sets of documents for Maureen to sign. Grace’s long, neutrally polished finger gently caressed the pages and pointedly indicated where Maureen should sign, as if the glaring neon sign here arrows were too subtle. Maureen pretended to read through the documents for a moment, and then signed them as indicated, returning one set of papers back to Grace’s waiting hand. The papers disappeared under Grace’s desk as if they had never been present.

Maureen remembered the first day she met Grace Monroe. She remembered instantly liking this woman. Grace was intelligent, attractive, and hard as a meteorite straight from Krypton. At a slender five feet eleven, with long white-blond hair, Grace could have passed for a trust-fund supermodel pretending to be a lawyer for her parents’ sake just long enough to marry Ken and live happily ever after. Those steel-green eyes, the almost breathless way she could turn a honeyed phase into a death sentence—you knew she more than enjoyed her job, she lived for it. This was definitely no hobby for Grace Monroe. She had graduated summa cum laude from Yale Law, by which time she’d already been published four times and argued a major case before the Supreme Court. It was rumored that during her graduation ceremony she had been promised a job, with a guaranteed partnership review in three years, from one of the most prestigious firms in the country. The catch was that she would have to sleep with the primary partner before he would present her to the rest of the firm for approval to come aboard. He underestimated Grace; she quickly filed a sexual harassment lawsuit, naming the firm and the partner and describing all of the sordid details. The suit settled out of court for an undisclosed amount of money and a legally binding promise that the details of the case and settlement would not be leaked by either party. Soon after, Grace started her own very successful legal firm, a thing virtually unheard of for a new lawyer right of law school, let alone a female—even an attractive one. Grace’s reputation grew rapidly; her clients were mostly women at first, then men, then private international firms, and soon domestic, corporate, and other law firms were hiring Monroe and Associates as their attorneys. All this happened in less than ten years.

Yes, Maureen loved this woman. She was definitely someone to emulate. All that love now changed in the space of fifteen minutes. Maureen was fighting back the urge to murder the woman who, she thought, had her back. Woman to woman, Grace once whispered in her ear at one of Maureen’s infamous cocktail parties. We women must protect ourselves from all men, powerful, wealthy, and sick alike. We have to stick together and watch each other’s back or become road-kill and tomorrow’s page-six fag-hag in the New York Post.

I guess, Maureen thought, you don’t achieve Grace’s status without burning a few people up in your path and making your true allegiances known. Clearly, Grace is aligned with whoever can pay her