Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
A floodgate had opened: all the digs she’d thrown my way over the years that had made me doubt myself. Doubt my worth.
“No one will ever want you. You look like a broken flashlight.”
“You smell so bad. Why can’t you eat normal food, weirdo?”
“You little whore. Are those pictures Franco uploaded of you still on porn sites? The internet never forgets. Anyone who ever comes onto you will do it because they know you put out.”
My fingers trembled, and I bit down on my lip to suppress a scream. No. I wasn’t going to wait until I saw her tomorrow morning. Find out what she had planned for me. Let her control the narrative. I realized suddenly that I was the person I’d been waiting for. The heroine of my own book.
It was time to take control.
Time to stand up for myself.
And for everyone I loved.
CAL
“The River of Dreams”—Billy Joel
The Murrays lived in a beautiful, white, shingled, oceanside mansion. The type of estate that curved around an eight-car limestone drive, with a fountain centerpiece and two Range Rovers parked up front.
Christmas lights wrapped around the edges of the roof and the pillars on either side of the front door. I braced myself against one of the columns, numbness blooming across my exposed skin. I had walked all five miles here. Strangely enough, I didn’t feel cold or uncomfortable. Fueled by the burning fire of revenge and hate, I’d plowed through.
Golden chandelier lights spilled from the front windows, and the sounds of clinking utensils and laughter rang through the air. Was I really going to crash this family’s holiday dinner? Seemed that way. Even stranger was the fact I didn’t feel an ounce of embarrassment about it.
I pressed the doorbell and stepped back, willing my teeth to stop chattering. I’d spent the entire journey here thinking about what witty one-liner I was going to spew once Allison appeared in front of me.
Karma delivery service. You have a package was the front runner. But when the door swung open and an elderly man with shrewd, beady eyes appeared, all the words jumbled in my throat like clothes in a laundry machine. I blinked about a hundred times a minute, my entire face twitching nervously.
Tic, tic, tic.
“Yes?” Allison’s father peered at me expectantly, clearly unhappy with the unwelcome Christmas surprise. “Are you going to sing or something? Or is this a donation thing? Marsha.” He turned around to bark to the depths of the house. “Do you have any cash on you?”
“I…I… No.” I found my voice somewhere in the bottom of my lungs. “I’m here for Allison.”
“Allison?” He reared his head back, bushy white eyebrows arched. “What business do you have with my daugh—”
“Oh, Daddy, it’s fine.” I heard the clink of heels on porcelain approaching. A few seconds later, Allison materialized like a mirage, a red sheath dress draped over her body, complementing her burgundy hair flawlessly. It was a shoulderless piece, paired with a white pearl choker. She looked beautiful yet, at the same time, ugly beyond repair. “I’ll take it from here.” She kissed his cheek, smiling. “Aw, so protective, what would I do without you?”
It was a dig, and as such, it burrowed straight into my heart, twisting like a sharp knife. She must’ve heard my dad had passed away. Must have known how much I missed him. Accompanying my pain was a dollop of pity. What a miserable creature must she be, to try to get a rise from a recently fatherless woman.
“Calla. You look”—she swiped her eyes over me aloofly—“like pneumonia in human form. You should really take better care of yourself. You’re already…what’s the word?” She tapped her pout theatrically. “Prone to accidents.”
“We need to talk. Privately.” I hated how unsure I sounded, even to my own ears—how I couldn’t see her properly, my eyes twitched so badly.
Allison examined her bloodred manicure with boredom. “No, thank you. If I let you in, you’ll contaminate my entire hou—”
That was it. I hadn’t even been here ten seconds and she was already ripping into me. “No more than Tucker Reid would. And he’s an engaged man. So unless you want tomorrow’s charity event to start with a grand announcement from me about who you’ve been sleeping with recently, I suggest you let me in.”
Her smug expression melted into horror. My hands shaking subsided, and my tics relaxed. I had cracked through her exterior. Broken the first of the many layers she had.
“I’ve no idea what you’re—”
“I have proof,” I cut her off. “And a slippery tongue. As you said, I’m…what’s the term?” I tapped my lips in the same manner she had a moment ago. “Prone to accidents.”
Allison peered over my shoulder before jerking her head. “Take your shoes off at the door.”
I followed her inside, bypassing a gigantic dining table full of food and her relatives. They all stared at me, dumbfounded. Me being me, I decided to greet them with a little bow and a smile. “Merry Christmas!” And then, because I couldn’t possibly contain myself, I gestured to Allison’s back and added, “Ho, ho, ho.”