She assumed Gwh''s father was causing trouble for her again, but when she looked around, a woman was sitting in the main chair, arms crossed, watching her coldly.


    "Get a basin of water and ssh her awake," the womanmanded. "Let her get a good look at who I am."


    It was Mrs. Mercer, her heavy legs swinging. Although James had offered a thorough exnationst time, which she had confirmed with a phone call and even seen hints of in the tabloids about Hawthorne and Patti, a woman''s intuition told her something was still wrong. She knew exactly what kind of man James was; no one knows a husband better than his own wife.


    She had checked the credit card statements. That dog James had spent over ten million dors at Hawthorne''s in a single night—just for a private room and some food. Even sealing a multi-billion-dor contract with Lanny wouldn''t justify that kind of expense.


    And to spend it at Hawthorne''s ce, of all ces. That alone made Mrs. Mercer suspicious.


    James was usually so frugal. His willingness to spend sovishly this time made it hard not to wonder what sort of shady dealings he and Hawthorne were involved in behind her back.


    What Mrs. Mercer really suspected was that James was using Hawthorne as a smokescreen while he was the one secretly carrying on with Patti.


    One of Mrs. Mercer''s close friends had gone through something simr. Her husband had his best friend take the fall, hiding his mistress in in sight by iming she was his friend''s girlfriend. It was a clever ruse to deceive his wife, but in the end, her friend''s sharp and suspicious nature led her to uncover the truth.


    These pathetic men came up with the most oundish and unexpected schemes to cheat on their wives, but none could escape their wives'' watchful eyes.


    Ever since she''d left Patti at the hotel, Mrs. Mercer had her followed.


    Although she hadn''t caught Patti and James together, and she did see Hawthorne visiting Patti, what struck Mrs. Mercer as odd was that Hawthorne''s visits neversted more than an hour, and he never spent the night.


    This only deepened her suspicion. If Patti really was his mistress, why would Hawthorne leave her all alone in the apartment every day?


    Unless he was hiding this tramp for someone else. The thought made everything click into ce.


    Of course. That dog James must have made a deal with Hawthorne to look after Patti for him.


    Over the years, Mrs. Mercer had caught at least fifty, if not a hundred, of James''s affairs. They were just flings, and once exposer.they ended Mrs. Mercer hadn''t bothered with them. But Patti was different. This tramp was pregnant.


    Mrs. Mercer''s own failure to give James a child, let alone a son, was a constant source of anxiety. She lived in fear that he would have a son with a mistress outside their marriage, and for years, she had watched him like a hawk.


    Patti was doused with water but remained groggy. Mrs. Mercer watched her coldly.


    "What are you all standing there for?" she snapped. "Keep sshing her until she''s fully awake."


    With that, Mrs. Mercer walked over and pped Patti hard across both cheeks. She gripped Patti''s chin, forcing her to look up.


    "Repeat what you just told me," she demanded viciously. "Whose baby is that in your belly? It''s not Hawthorne''s, it''s James''s, isn''t it?"


    The ps and the cold water finally shocked Patti to her senses. Seeing Mrs.


    Mercer''s face, she felt a jolt of terror, as if her soul had snapped back into her body.


    "Mrs... Mrs. Mercer, I don''t know what you''re talking about. I really don''t. Please, let me go."


    Her arms were pinned, her body held fast.


    Mrs. Mercer sheered. "It''s fine if you


    don''t know. We''ll find out soon


    enough when I take you to a clinic for an amniocentesis and a DNA test have a lock of my dear James''s hair right here. We''lbrun a paternity test between him and your baby. If I find out that bastard in your


    belly belongs to my James, you''ll wish you were never born."