Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“Clove, honey, whatever are you doing here?” she coos into my ear before pulling back and looking behind me. “Are you alone?”
“Yes, I needed to come home,” I say with a sigh, walking around her and up the steps to go inside. The door clicks closed behind us, and I push my shoes off before dropping my purse and coat on the rack.
“Is Dad home? I left him a message, but I was at a pay phone and he may not have listened to my voice mail.” My ears perk, listening for any noise, but only silence greets me.
“No, I’m afraid he’s not and won’t be returning until later.” Marjorie offers me a pat on the back like I’m an abandoned child.
“I’m going to go to my room to rest for a while,” I tell her, feeling her eyes on me with a million questions I know she’s dying to ask me. Marjorie hates surprises and not being in the know. She is meticulous with our lives and anal when it comes to constructing our family image to the public, so she will be on damage control to pay the Uber driver off to keep his silence about his passenger for the night, and to make sure no paparazzi caught me on my travels home looking like a train wreck.
Pushing into my bedroom, the scents of my old life burst over me, reminding me of how much change has happened in such a small amount of time. Brushing my fingers over the dresser, I note a little film of dust lacquered upon it. They must have told the cleaner to stop coming in here. I am forgotten, out of sight out of mind. I hate my thoughts. They’re weak and pitiful, but I feel like I was cast away and life went on for my father. All the panic and worry for the threat on my life one minute and then as soon as I was out of the way, he went back to a politician, a product of what the people want. A man without worry. The man who is on his way to the White House.
Where was the father hidden between the layers of this man who once was the sunrise and sunset for his little girl? Leo’s words echo inside me. “He might be involved, sweetness.”
I shake them away, stuffing them so deep down that they don’t exist to me anymore. They can’t be the truth. I refuse to believe them even if my guys have proof. It would take my father pulling out a gun and shooting me point blank before I could ever think my soul could be so cursed that even my father could take it from me.
Sitting on the bed that doesn’t feel as soft or welcoming as Sebastian’s, my foot taps mindlessly on the wood floor. Will I get past this deception of Seb having a child with another woman? Do I have a right to be this mad with him? With them? They all knew and let her have this pocket of information to take out and drop on me at her choosing. I wasn’t prepared. I was naïve and she could see it written all over me, exploiting it. The anger bubbles inside my chest once more. Tears of sorrow and fury wage war inside me. I hate that she has a part of him and can offer him a normal life without this chaos and media storm waiting to swarm. I resent her and hate myself for it. A tap on the door draws my attention and Marjorie opens it, stepping inside without prompting.
“I made you a cup of chamomile tea,” she says with a smile, placing a china cup on my bedside table. “We gave the staff a long vacation just to keep an eye on who is coming and going on the property with threat levels being high.” She lingers, folding her arms over her small chest. The cardigan she wears is an awful toffee color and makes her skin look washed out. She could be pretty if she tried, but she ties her long hair into a low bun and opts for oversized glasses rather than contacts and minimal makeup as to not draw attention to herself. I know she’s in love with my father. I can recognize it now—the looks, the longing, the need. I feel bad for her in that respect, because my father will never have time to love anyone else. And when he is ready to remarry, he’ll look for an accessory, a woman who will look good to the public. Maybe a charity background or a wealthy, wholesome family. Marjorie has no family. We’re her family. My father’s career is her entire life’s work. Her blood, sweat, and dreams are all wrapped up in another’s success or failure.