Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Jonathan is just more forthcoming about it. Ethan doesn’t show it as much, but that doesn’t deny his desire for it.
Upon seeing me, Layla pushes the basket of roses at Agnus’s chest and runs towards me.
I open my arms and she hugs me without protest. “I missed you so much, mate. Don’t you dare leave me again.”
“I missed you, too, Lay.”
“Come on.” She grips me by the hand. “We have so much to catch up on.”
Ethan motions at the stairs and raises his brow at Jonathan. “My office?”
“Play nice,” I mouth at Jonathan.
“No,” he mouths back and I shake my head as Agnus abandons the basket of roses on a table and follows them.
With the three of them there, I can only imagine what will happen in that office. Definitely not something I want to witness.
Layla and I sit on a bench in the garden. The trees here are so tall, they block the horizon.
“So?” she asks impatiently. “Details.”
“Promise you won’t hate me?”
“Never. Ride or die, remember?”
I let it all out and tell Layla about my life ever since I was brought up in Leeds, and all the way to witnessing that crime, losing my sister, and the whole trial nightmare.
While I speak, Layla’s expression falls and I think she hates me by the time I finish, but she hugs me again. Two hugs in one day is a first.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that on your own. You were so young.”
I hold on to her and let the tears loose. It’s the first time I’ve talked about the whole thing and I’m so grateful that Layla is the one I got to tell everything that happened.
She pulls back and wipes my tears with the back of her sleeves. “Johnny gets brownie points for taking you away from here so you could clear your head. His Daddy status is reinstated.”
“You’re awful.” I smile through the tears.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Lay.”
“Which name do you prefer? Clarissa or Aurora?”
“When I was Clarissa, I was happy, but it was at the expense of other people’s suffering. I don’t like being her anymore. I don’t like the memories associated with her or the fears she went through.”
“Aurora it is, then. It’d be super weird to call you anything else.” She grins tentatively. “Why did you pick that name?”
It’s my turn to smile as the memories of summer and marshmallow scent filter back in. “Alicia said if she had a baby girl, she would’ve named her Aurora. I guess it’s stayed with me.”
“I’m so proud of how far you’ve come, mate.”
“Are you being sappy right now?”
“Who? Me? Never!” We laugh and she scoots closer, her expression morphing into one of seriousness. “What are you going to do now?”
“I’m still thinking about it. Hey, Lay, don’t you miss work?”
“Honestly? I’m going out of my mind here. You know I hate staying still, but it’s okay. I can take it.”
“Well, I can’t.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“I’m going to stand tall like I was supposed to sixteen years ago.”
The following day, I go to the prosecutor’s office. I don’t tell Jonathan, because he’d stop me.
I refuse to live my life in fear, scared about when they’ll come knocking on my door, or when they’ll catch me while I’m walking down the streets.
Although I don’t share my plans with Jonathan, I make my way through the building, armed with his words to me.
You did nothing wrong.
He’s right. I haven’t. And now, I’ll own up to it.
They take me to a white room with a grey table in the middle. I keep my cool as the prosecutor tries to intimidate me with his questions.
The prosecutor, who introduced himself as Joffrey Dale, is an older man with a few decades of experience under his belt. It makes sense that they’re assigning him to an important nationwide case like this.
His bushy brows are drawn together as if they were made to judge people. His suit is a size too big and his head is half-bald with a few streaks of hair combed in the middle. But that doesn’t take away from the sharp look in his light brown eyes.
After a long silence, which he spends reading the file in front of him, Joffrey finally lifts his head. “We’ll start with the basics. What’s your name?”
“Aurora Harper.”
“Your legal one, Miss.”
“Aurora Harper. I registered it.”
He nods as if the information is new to him, when it’s most likely a tactic. Even the white room we’re in, which seems sterilised, must be some psychological trick. The police played them a lot on me back in the day, but I was too young to recognise them.
“Why have you come here, Ms Harper?”
“Voluntary questioning.”
He fixes me with his bland eyes. “For what?”
“Maxim Griffin’s parole hearing.” My hands grip each other on my lap, but I force them to loosen.