Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“I’m doing a lot of things. I need you to be a bit more specific.” The lie rolls off my tongue, not giving away how my heart is racing. How did he find out?
He’s Troy Godwin. That’s how. The man knows everything.
“Your mother is dead. Has been for years. Stop digging into something that doesn’t exist.”
“If she’s dead, why does it matter if I’m looking around?”
“Because I told you to stop,” he growls through the phone.
“But you won’t tell me why, which makes me believe I may be onto something. If it’s truly nothing, you wouldn’t even be wasting your breath trying to forbid me to do something,” I bite back.
“You’re starting to act as crazy as Phoenix.”
“Family genes,” I counter.
I love my father, I even respect him most of the time, but I will never be a doormat, not even for him. My mother is gone, but if there is a chance I can get answers to questions I’ve always had since her death, then I will. And if it can help Phoenix heal his deep wounds, then I won’t question trying for a second.
“I said drop it.”
“And I said no. If you want children that will do your bidding without thought or complaint, call your sons.” I hang up, knowing I’m going to pay for that later, but fuck it. He can add it to my tab.
My phone rings again. I picture his angry eyes and square jaw with a graying beard that sharpens the harsh lines of his face instead of softening them.
I hit ignore just as someone knocks on my door.
“Come in,” I call, already knowing who it is.
“Ms. Godwin, I am afraid I have some delicate news.” The PI I hired steps into my office. His blue baseball cap is in his hands, and he is twisting the bill.
“Have a seat.” I motion to the chair in front of my desk. It sits lower than my own, not that the PI needs to be put in a submissive position. He doesn’t treat me like a stray woman that escaped the kitchen. He just isn’t worth me adjusting my furniture for before our meeting.
“I’m not really sure how to say this,” he begins.
“I have little patience,” I begin. “Get to the point.”
“Your mother didn’t die seven years ago.” His gaze isn’t locking onto anything in the room. Interesting, he is nervous, but why? For all he knows, he’s giving me good news.
“She didn’t?” My wariness bleeds through on my voice. “So she is alive?”
Jesus Christ. Phoenix is right. Am I living in a goddamn soap opera?
“No.” He stares at the ceiling over my head. “Your mother died about a month ago.”
“What?” I have no idea what to say or even feel about this slew of insanity. She’s dead. She’s alive. She’s dead.
“I think had you not hired me, someone would have still been contacting you. There is a reading of her will in a few days. Her lawyer said that you are mentioned and should attend. Only you. Not your brothers or your father.” He places a piece of paper on my desk. I don’t have to touch it to see the address on it is just outside Seattle.
“Is that the address of her lawyer’s estate?”
“No, it’s the mansion your mother was living in.”
She had a mansion in Seattle. Seattle! She was living so close this entire time, never telling any of us. Why? Why stay so close if she never came back to Olympus Manor? And if for some reason she didn’t want to return to our home on the island of Heathens Hollow, then why the fuck not reach out to us later? We all live in Seattle now!
“She’s dead,” I repeat to myself.
“Yes. She is now, but she didn’t die in Heathens Hollow like you all believed.”
I sit in silence, trying to absorb everything being thrown at me. I want to call my father. My brothers. But at the same time, I don’t. I’m not ready to ignite the bomb onto my family.
“The estate lawyer said—”
I raise my hand to silence the PI. I don’t want to hear anymore right now.
I want nothing of hers, but maybe if I go to the reading of the will, I can speak to someone she was close to. Maybe get some answers, if not all of them.
“Okay. I’ll go to the house. I’ll contact the lawyer. See my assistant for your payment.”
“Ms. Godwin, there’s more.” His voice is stiff, like he’s trying not to run out the door.
“Make it quick.” I wave my hand at him. The reality is I’m on the verge of a meltdown, and I don’t want him to see it.
“Your father.” His words come out stronger and he meets my eye. “I have reason to believe he is the one who bought that property and banished her to it.”