Four words would put an end to Cadence Goldsmith’s perfect life.
“That’s Mr. Goldsmith, Mommy.”
She searched out the source of that small childlike screech, an unnatural occurrence in the Adali Global Reveal. The event was an exclusive affair for people who worked in the European auto market.
Cadence peered around the velvet curtain from her spot backstage of the McCormick Place Convention Center, surprised to find that her husband, Jackson, and mother, Phylicia were sitting in the front row next to a scowling Steven Bekker, her work nemesis.
“Hiiiiiii, Mr. Goldsmith,” a little girl with light-brown skin, blue-eyes and puffy blonde twists crooned, as she rushed to stand near her husband. “You work at my school.”
Cadence grimaced. Why was a child there and why was she so interested in Jackson? Wait, was that an image of her husband on that child’s shirt? She almost couldn’t make it out because the girl’s fist twisted the material.
“I present to you, CDO, Cadence Goldsmith.”
Applause rang out as she strutted center stage with her attention on the bleached-blonde woman wearing a navy dress, who grinned and winked at her before taking an empty seat next to Jackson and pulling the little girl onto her lap. Jackson glanced at Cadence, then frowned as he put his focus back on the woman. She didn’t miss the panic that took over his features for a split second.
Cadence’s heart surged with a bit of panic of her own. She prayed that her confidence would still show through, even though relishing the acknowledgement of being the designer of the first self-driving automobile was taking a back seat to Jackson and the unknown guests.
Jackson, who seemed occupied with the distraction that little girl had become, hadn’t acknowledged Cadence at all. He and the woman were having a heated, but whispered conversation. Jackson’s body language—tense and angry—screamed discomfort.
“May I have everyone’s attention please,” Cadence said walking to the edge of the stage, standing in front of her husband.
Jackson’s brown eyes gazed into hers, but the comfort and security she usually felt was missing.
“Mommy, now,” the little girl asked.
“Shhhh.” The woman placed an index finger to her thin pink lips. “Not yet.”
Cadence raised an eyebrow, then glanced at her husband.
The lights dimmed, and Cadence began the PowerPoint presentation of the newest addition to the Adali luxury car fleet.
Ten minutes later, every person, except for Steven and the mystery woman, were on their feet clapping.
Mike lifted a hand to settle the crowd. “Cadence Goldsmith has a bright future with Adali, and we, along with the two most important people in her life, would like to present her with the Outstanding Innovative Design Award.”
“Yay, Mr. Goldsmith,” the little girl squealed, slapping her hands together. Cadence’s attention was drawn to the child whose eyes matched the woman she assumed to be her mother. High heels clicking across the stage accompanied by Jackson’s signature fragrance snapped Cadence from the trance.
Mike handed a plaque with the Adali emblem engraved on it to Cadence.
“Thank you.” She shook his hand trying to play it cool even though she wanted to shatter the surrounding windows with a high-pitched scream.
“Congratulations.” Jackson beamed with cautionary excitement written all over his face as he embraced his wife.
“Who the hell is that woman,” she whispered through a clenched-teeth grin as her lips brushed the side of his ear.
Jackson’s dark-skin ashen. “Her name’s Braelyn,” he replied, planting a timid kiss on her cheek. “We’ll talk later.”
Her mother stepped forward. “Your father would be so proud of you.”
Small feet galloping up the stairs onto the stage made everyone in the audience gasp. Cadence peered over Phylicia’s shoulder at the lively little girl sprinting forward, spotting a picture of Jackson splayed on the front of her shirt.
Executive’s plucked phones from their purses and suit jacket pockets.
Security rushed in. “We’re going to have to ask you to get your child and leave, ma’am.”
“I have a right to be here,” Braelyn exclaimed, throwing a glance at Steven as she flashed the VIP badge.
After a thorough inspection, the guard said with a remorseful tone, “My apologies, Ms. Nevels.” He glanced at Mike. “She has clearance.”
“Nevels,” Cadence whispered, wondering why that name sounded so familiar.
“Show everyone your cute shirt, Jackie,” Braelyn instructed, smiling at the pretty girl, before planting a menacing glare at Cadence and Jackson.
Jackie spread her arms wide, facing the audience. “Look, Mommy.” She pointed jumping in place. Everybody’s taking my picture.” She put her hands on her hips and said, “Cheeeeese.”
The lump in Cadence’s throat grew larger with every word she read on the back of Jackie’s shirt.
Jackson Goldsmith Is My Daddy.
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In Hidden Agenda, Bebe Jordan has it all beauty, brains and a promising career as a journalist for a popular women’s magazine. Her crazy no holds barred cantor has received praise and admiration from many. Except one follower who wants to takes things a little bit too far when his online affection becomes an offline obsession.
