Phoenix

Chapter Eight

Michael Domenico, the man Della once stood up at the altar. That same man who swore eternal love to her when they were just children, and who now came to take her daughter away. Yes! Her daughter! Because, although she and Perry had not signed the adoption papers, Peggy was already in her heart, was as much her daughter as if she had never lost one.

Suddenly, the voice from her past snapped Della out of her ramblings. Michael was smiling easily, as though this were the most casual, easy meeting in the world. He was calm, cool, and collected while her world was shattering.

"Mr. and Mrs. Mason, as I said, it's a pleasure to finally meet you both." He was older than Della remembered him, but the voice was the same. "But as much as I would like to continue chatting with you, Peggy and I simply can't delay another moment. We are due to take a flight to Chicago in a couple of hours."

Della's troubled eyes flew to Perry. He read her panic and fear—and bereavement—as though she wanted him to do something to stop him. She was seconds away from shattering. Perry's jaw rippled with determination and grit.

"It's a pity I can't say the same, Mr. Domenico. How is it you came to be Peggy's legal guardian? I know you aren't related; we've done our due diligence." He paused, letting his words sink in, and had the satisfaction of seeing the smug expression on Michael's face falter for a moment before it slipped back into place. "Peggy deserves better than a guardian who—" he stopped himself from making an accusation and changed his tactic. "Why did you wait so long to come? Why haven't we heard from you until now?"

Michael's eyes flickered from Della's face to the granite one of Perry. He felt his temper steam, but he held himself in check. "Mr. Mason, you can wonder. That's your right. I am not obligated to answer. But," he sighed and smiled, "I am a very busy businessman in Chicago. When everything related to Peggy happened, I was out of the country. It was just yesterday that I returned and was apprised you two intended to adopt the girl. So, at that very moment I made the decision to jet to California as soon as possible to put a stop to it. I couldn't allow you and your wife to adopt her."

Della gasped beside Perry. His jaw rippled. He wanted answers, but Peggy's presence and Della's vulnerability kept him from striking the man.

"As soon as I got off the plane I came to court and appeared before the judge with all the papers confirming that I am Peggy's legal guardian. And I demanded he dismiss this ridiculous petition, this absurd adoption."

"Mich—" Della stopped when she realized what she was about to say. "Mr. Domenico, excuse me, but . . . I don't understand how you have custody of Peggy?" Of all the little girls in the world, Peggy! "She is no relation of yours!"

Michael looked defiantly at her. "Mrs. Mason, you didn't have to stop. You can call me by my first name if you want. As for your question, I suppose it won't hurt to let you know the truth. It shouldn't surprise you that I was the girl's tutor. It isn't the first time a boss became the godfather to the child of one of his employees. I would even wager a bet that you and Mr. Mason also have several godchildren under your belt."

Della's hands clenched as her temper flared. "Mr. Domenico, you may be right. I'll even admit I am godmother to Mr. Jackson's—he's Perry's legal assistant—youngest son. But that would hardly be reason to become his legal guardian!"

"Of course not! Because you don't have a quasi-family relationship with your husband's employee. But Peggy's father was closer to me than my own brother! It was for that same reason he and his wife asked me to take custody of her if something bad ever happened to them. And now I am here to honor my word."

"Your word? Allow me to disagree with you, Mr. Domenico," Perry cut in, tired of hearing him speak. "Didn't Peggy's parents die more than six years ago? How is it that it took you so long to come? It seems convenient that this is the moment your conscience prompted action. Why now? Why do you want to take care of the daughter of your employee? According to my sources, Peggy came to boarding school exactly after her parents died." He met Peggy's tear-drenched eyes and gave her a reassuring smile. Then he looked at Michael and his blue eyes hardened to steel bits. "Wasn't it the most logical thing to do to take her immediately to live with you?"

"Ohh… Mr. Mason… Excuse me. For a moment I forgot you were here!" Michael sneered. He was thinking fast, trying to stick to his prepared script. But the effect of those eyes, plus the shock of seeing Della, left him briefly unsure of his footing. He collected himself, smoothed down the front of his suit, and then answered in a calm voice, "Well, the unforeseen death of my friend and his wife left me completely devastated. At that time, I did not feel capable of caring for a 3-year-old little girl. I am a bachelor, and I admit I'm not the most sensitive man to a toddler's tears. So, I thought the best thing for her would be to leave her at boarding school. But for the record, I was always aware of her needs, met her financial burdens, and saw to it that she always got the most beautiful doll as a gift for her birthday and Christmas."

"Oh, it was you who sent the dolls to Peggy?" Della asks very surprised.

"Of course, Della!" he said gently, then remembered himself. "Oh ... excuse me ... Mrs. Mason! But you remind me so much of the woman I was going to marry. If I didn't know that the woman who planted me at the altar was determined not to marry. I would bet the rest of my life confident you were she." The defiance was back, as was the triumphant gleam in his eyes. "I always did the same with her since we were children. We were inseparable, you see. We started dating from a very tender age. Every birthday and Christmas I would give her a doll because she liked them so much. So, I thought I would do the same with Peggy, in memory of that old treacherous love."

Michael looked at Della with a wry smile on her lips, then down at his watch. "Well, I think this absurd talk will get us nowhere. And it has taken too much time. Peggy, you'd better say your goodbyes to the Masons, because if we don't leave right now, we will miss the plane to Chicago."

"NOOOOO! I don't want to go!" Peggy screamed, hugging Della in an embrace that felt like a death grip.

Cynthia, who had watched the entire exchange without interrupting, put a gentle hand on Peggy's small shoulder. "Peggy... I am so sorry! But you heard the judge. You have to go with Mr. Domenico. Now please, be a good girl and say goodbye to them." She shot an apologetic look at Della.

"No, please! Please! Miss Street, please…! Don't let him take me," she whispered, and the little girl's plaintiff wails did what nothing else could do; they shattered what was left of Della's heart.

"Perry!"

Peggy turned her pleading gaze to him. "Mr. Mason, I know you can make that bad man leave without taking me to Chicago. I want to stay with the two of you. Let Della be my mother, and you, my dad! Oh, please, Mr. Mason!"

He wiped away the tears in his eyes, unashamed to let her see how much he was hurting. If she had to go, if she had to leave them, at least she would go knowing that she was loved and wanted. He knelt beside her so he could look her directly in the eye. Then, for a moment he looked up, met the sad hazel eyes of his wife. They were silently pleading, but he could tell the hope in them was gone. Those pleading eyes only find cobalt blue eyes full of sadness that silently asked for forgiveness.

Taking a deep breath, he returned his gaze to the little girl. "Peggy, honey, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, but Cynthia is right. You have to go with Mr. Domenico."

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him as though her life depended on it. He hugged her back, whispered words she needed to hear and know, then tenderly kissed her. Then he lifted the girl in his arms and, after meeting Michael's eyes, said, "This isn't over." Then he surrendered the most precious person he had ever held, his beloved daughter, to a man he knew he would never forget. His heart ached with impotence, loss, and helplessness.

"Perry! No, please no! Perry, please!"

Della's heartbreaking, sobbing plea shattered him from his core outward.

"Mr. Mason, I don't want to go with him!" Peggy's fading cry gripped his heart.

He shook his head. "Sorry, my girl! But for now, I can't do anything. I promise you I will move heaven and earth so you can return to us very soon. Then we will have our happy ending." He flashed her his best reassuring smile and even managed a wink.

"Do you promise?" Peggy asked as she wiped her tears with the sleeve of her coat.

"Of course! I always keep my promises. Isn't that right, Miss Street?" Perry asked as he glanced at Della. She nodded her confirmation and forced a sad smile.

The sound of a harsh laugh broke up the moment. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Mr. Mason. Because I assure you, I am not giving up Peggy. Well, we better get going, kid. Mason, Mrs. Mason, it was a pleasure meeting you!" And with that Michael took Peggy in his arms and exited the courthouse.

"Michael—! Mr. Domenico!" Della screamed as she tried to follow him. But she was quickly stopped by Perry, who pulled her into a tight hug. Standing there, being held by the only man who meant anything to her, in the middle of the corridors of the court, she cried silently, uncontrollably on his chest as his hands warmed her body.

XXXX XXXX XXXX

The trip back to the office was silent. Both Perry and Della were immersed in their own world, each trying to deal with their own loss. Upon arriving at the Brent Building, Perry motioned for Della to head to the office while he went looking for Paul. He wanted to hit the ground running on the efforts to get Peggy back. There were holes in Michael Domenico's story, and Perry wanted them plugged before nightfall. But before he left to find the private investigator, before he gave voice to his plans, he gathered his wife into a tender hug and then gently kissed her lips. He put his mouth against her ear and whispered reassurances to her.

"I love you, my Darling, with all my soul. And I love Peggy! We will get her home, with us, where she belongs. Please, trust me not to let this setback stop us from our dream."

When Della walked into the office, Gertie was already waiting for her. She saw the tear-stained face, puffy and swollen from crying, and knew something was gravely wrong. Taking the manila envelope which had arrived early that morning, Gertie tentatively passed it to her.

Della frowned as she studied it. There was no return address, no way to identify the sender. Her name, scrawled in a vaguely masculine handwriting, made her stomach plummet. She knew the hand that had addressed it.

"Miss Street, is everything—I mean, are you alright?" Gertie asked, and her wide eyes widened in concern.

She forced a small laugh. "Nothing's . . . Gertie, would you please get me a glass of water and two aspirin from the washroom? I'll be in my office. No calls, unless Mr. Drake or Mr. Mason need me."

After closing the door behind her, Della gently leaned her back against it. She sighed deeply, finally allowing all her emotions of the morning wash over her again. Tears sprang of their own volition. She felt empty, wondering what wrong she had done that life would insist on ripping another child from her arms. Then she looked at the manila envelope still unopened in her hands, as though knowing the answer to her questions were inside. She had inadvertently hurt Michael, and now he and Fate had returned to take revenge. Why did it have to be Michael who took away the child we chose as our daughter?

Without warning a light knock brought Della back to the present. It was Gertie bringing her the aspirin tablets and the glass of water. She opened the door and accepted them, thanking the receptionist, and reminding her she was not to be disturbed. Moving slowly, she came to her desk and dropped the envelope on the top. She sank wearily into her chair and leaned her head back, willing the tension to leave her neck and shoulders. Closing her eyes as she waited for the medicine to take effect, she let her mind fill with sight and sound pictures from the courthouse. After several minutes she opened her eyes again and looked at the manila envelope. She stared hard at her name, perplexed by what it contained. After taking a deep breath, she straightened in her chair and picked up the envelope and quickly opened it.

Della shook the contents of the envelope onto the desk. The first thing that caught her eye was the engagement ring. She drew in her breath. It can't be . . . I returned it to him and he kept it all these years? But next to the ring was a small chain with a medal. When she took it in her hands and examined it more closely, a loud gasp issued from her mouth. The medal, that same medal she had bought for her daughter the day she learned she was pregnant, was staring up at her. Perry had told her he had placed it around their baby's neck in the few minutes he had held her, just as she had asked. But didn't the hospital tell us it was lost in the hustle and bustle that followed her death? How did Michael come buy it? She frowned. And what does it mean?

She quickly took the folded piece of paper that had fallen along with the other objects. Unfolding it, she began to read its contents:

Della... My Della ...

If you are reading this, it is because you already received the manila envelope with the engagement ring and the small medal inside. I imagine you are wondering, "How the hell did Michael get it?" Well, the answer is very easy. I have that medal because I was the one who took your daughter away from you. No, don't stop there, Della. There's more.

No, don't think the worst! I am not so cruel as to take the life of a defenseless baby! But yes, I admit it was the perfect opportunity to trade her for a dead baby. And I admit, I wanted to make you believe that your daughter was she.

For a long time, I believed that your suffering of these nine years was punishment enough for your desertion, and you would never know your daughter was alive. Yes, you are reading well. Your daughter lives!

Della quickly put her hand to her mouth to stifle her scream. As she trembled like a scared deer, her tears obscuring her vision as they fell nonstop. Making a huge effort to collect herself, she resumed her reading.

My revenge seemed complete. Until Fate... This damn Fate ... wanted to play a trick on me. How was I to know Mason would take her as a client? Peggy re-entered your life. And if you still don't understand what I'm saying, I'll spell it out for you.

This morning in court, I ripped your daughter out of your arms—again. Yes! Peggy, this little brat you wanted to adopt, is your real daughter, the same baby you thought dead for nine years. She's yours and that damned Mason's.

Once and for all, I warn you: I don't want Mason to know. Because my revenge is just beginning, Della. I might not be capable of hurting your daughter, but that does not mean I will hesitate to make her vanish forever. But you can avoid it. Yes, the choice is yours... You are the only one who can prevent your daughter and me from getting lost somewhere in the world.

I'm sure right now you're wondering, how? Well ... you'll have to get away from Mason and come back to me. How you do it is not my problem. I don't know, tell him you can't bear to be next to him anymore. That after losing another child you need to get away from him, because he is a constant reminder of your loss. Then you will send him the divorce papers. Of course, I want you to divorce that arrogant, stupid lawyer! Because you and I are getting married like we should have done so many years ago. Then we will go to Italy, where I have a property in Tuscany. I think it will be the perfect place to raise our daughter. Because Peggy will be your daughter and mine. Who knows, maybe after a while we can give her a brother or sister.

Now, go back to the reception, and that girl will give you another envelope. Inside you will find a plane ticket to Chicago. You have only twenty-four hours to come. If you don't, Peggy and I will be gone forever and you won't have a chance to see your daughter again. You are warned, only twenty-four hours and nothing more.

Michael.

After reading, Della's jaw clenched and rippled. She didn't know how to feel. Helplessness crashed over her, only to ebb away and be crushed again with a stronger wave of anger. She crumpled the paper against her chest. Peggy! Suddenly everything fell into place. The mannerisms that so reminded her of Perry, the eyes that, like his, were mirrors of her beautiful soul. The way she had bonded immediately with her. Peggy's own attachment to them.

Yes, her daughter was alive! And what was more, she was Peggy, that sweet little girl who months ago walked into her office with her little doll in her arms, looking for her family. After a moment, she wiped away her tears and took a deep breath. Opening one of her desk drawers, she pulled out a notepad, and began to quickly write something on it. She scooped up her bag and coat and quickly left her office, heading towards the reception.

The decision was no decision at all. In a choice between the man she loved and the child she couldn't bear to lose again, her choice was crystal clear.