Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 133127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Hi,” I say.
“Hello.” Peter smiles, glancing nervously between Brock and me. It’s obvious that he’s trying to work out if I told Brock about the little incident in the lab this week. Well, yes, I did. Peter stands at the back of the room next to my mother, scared to come too close to me.
“You gave us a fright, Tully,” Peter says.
I smile sleepily. “It’s all okay now, though.”
Peter nods as he watches me. “I thought it was Cole all along. I thought it was Cole, but I just couldn’t prove it,” he says.
Brock rolls his eyes in disgust. In the investigation with the police, and with the evidence Brock had on Peter socialising with the girls after hours, Peter has had to come clean about sleeping with the working girls. He’s saying it was for fun and that no deal was ever negotiated, but Brock doesn’t believe it for a moment.
Brock thinks that Peter falsely promised the girls protection in lieu of sex.
A crime that may never be proven. There is no proof. All the girls involved are dead now.
They weren’t protected at all.
“I just can’t believe that Cole was responsible for everything,” I say quietly.
“He’s blackmailed millions of dollars from wealthy businessmen and murdered thirteen innocent people,” Brock says. “Wendy Woo had secretly taped Cole threatening her if she didn’t blackmail another client, and he confessed to the other murders by telling her she would be next. Scared for her life she went to Chancellor, a man she trusted, and he had converted the file and put it onto a memory stick for her to hand into the police. But it never got there because she didn’t know who she could trust in the police department.” Brock side-eyes Peter again. Peter drops his head in shame. “So many innocent people died for no reason other than money,” Brock adds.
I frown as I listen. “At least Chancellor’s children know that he didn’t commit suicide,” I whisper. “And his wife knows everything now?” I ask Brock.
“Yeah, but she isn’t telling anyone the gory details, only that he was murdered. She doesn’t want his name dragged through the mud or his children to know that he had anything to do with those types of women,” Brock says. “How people can carry through with such atrocities for money is beyond me.” He stares down at me. I pick up his hand to kiss the back of it and he brushes the hair back from my forehead.
I smile up at him, and he bends and kisses me softly. “But you’re safe and that’s all I care about.
Brock
“I’m going to get going, Tull,” Peter eventually says.
“Okay.” She smiles softly. “Thanks for coming.”
He nods and smiles my way. I clench my jaw and watch him leave. Tully and her mother begin to talk among themselves.
“I’m just going to the bathroom, babe,” I tell her.
“Okay.” Tully smiles and turns her attention back to her mother.
I walk out into the corridor and follow Peter down to the parking lot.
I’m furious.
For how he treated Tully.
For how he treated the girls who were murdered.
For his blatant lack of respect for women and their rights.
It’s about time someone taught him a lesson. That person will be me.
He walks down through the main doors and out into the parking lot. It’s dark and there aren’t many people are around. Peter weaves in and out the cars until he gets to his. He opens the door, and I walk up to him and get in his face.
“W-what are you doing?” he stutters.
“So, you think it’s fair game to force yourself on Tully, do you?” I growl.
His face falls. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t act dumb,” I snap before I punch him hard in the stomach. He doubles over in pain, coughing and winded by my hit. He stands slowly, and I hit him square in the jaw. He staggers back, his body slamming into the car. “That’s for Tully,” I snap. He falls forward and I hit him again. “And that’s for the way you treat women, you piece of fucking shit,” I growl.
“Stop it!” he wails. “Don’t hit me again. Please.” He holds his hands up over his face like a coward.
I roll my eyes and grab him by the throat. He coughs as I cut off his air supply. “You step one foot out of line again, and I will fucking break your neck, just like I promised.”
He whimpers. “I won’t, I promise.”
I throw him back and he hits his car with a thud, his body sliding down it onto the ground. I glare at him, watching as he cowers in fear, and then I walk back inside the hospital before I really hurt him. I would love to, believe me.
Yellow-bellied fucking sleazebag.
Twelve months later
I lie on the deckchair between the ocean and the pool and feel the sun’s warmth on my skin. Brock and I are at our favourite destination. The place we fell in love. The Halekulani in Waikiki. I bought this trip for him as a surprise for his birthday a few months ago.