Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Marcia set her glass on the table. “You were three at the time. We expected to find you terrified when we arrived on pack territory. But you were quiet, subdued. In shock. Naturally we brought you here, away from those animals.”
And she seemed to think that Frankie should applaud her for that.
“You didn’t seem to remember what you saw—as if you’d blocked it out.” Geoffrey took a swig of his brandy. “You’d have nightmares, but you’d never remember them. We let you forget. We gave you a different story. We did it to protect you.”
Protect her? Lying to her all her life sure didn’t feel like “protection.” It wasn’t that she couldn’t understand why they thought they were protecting her when she was just a child; she was just pissed to all hell that she was only finding out now.
She also felt embarrassed. She’d easily believed their story, easily bought their lies. Never once questioned them. Shouldn’t she have sensed the deception? Probably not. It was really only natural that she’d believed them. She’d had no reason to doubt them. Yet she felt disappointed with herself. Humiliated, even.
“What does Lydia want?” demanded Marcia, distaste in her tone. “Money, I’m guessing.”
“To meet,” said Frankie.
Marcia huffed. “Well, she’ll be rather disappointed when you turn her down, won’t she?”
“Her mother’s dying. She’s hoping I’ll pay her a visit so she can see me just once before she passes.”
“In other words, she’s trying to manipulate you with a sob story.” Marcia sniffed. “You will, of course, ignore her attempt to reconnect with you.”
Frankie’s spine snapped straight, and her wolf growled. “Will I?”
Marcia’s eyes went diamond hard. “Yes, you will. They defended him, Francesca. He killed Caroline, but they defended him. Said he must have been drunk or had a moment of madness—like there could be any excuse for what was done to her. They kept questioning you, trying to put words into your mouth, wanting you to say something that would somehow vindicate him. Over and over, you kept saying in a zombielike voice, ‘He hurt her.’”
Hearing footsteps, Frankie looked over her shoulder to see her uncle waltz in. As usual, the accountant was dressed in a tailored suit and wearing a charming smile.
“Frankie, sweetheart, it’s great to see you.” Brad kissed her cheek. “Too beautiful for words.”
“You knew the truth, didn’t you?” Frankie accused him. “You knew they lied about my parents.”
His grin melted away and he swallowed. “How did you find out?”
It was Marcia who answered, each word curt and bitter as she explained the matter to her only son.
Brad rested a hand on Frankie’s arm. “Keeping the truth from you was for the best.”
Frankie shrugged him off. “Best? Best for who, Brad?”
“For who? For you, of course.”
Frankie snorted. She wasn’t a weak, fragile flower; she could have handled the truth. Turning back to her grandparents, she said, “Look, I get why you’d want a child to forget something so traumatic. I understand why you’d rather never speak of what happened. But I’m twenty-seven years old. I’ve been old enough to understand and deal with the truth for a long time. You could have told me at any point. You didn’t. I have the right to know.”
Geoffrey held her gaze steadily—there was no remorse there. “Why hurt you with the truth?”
“The lie hurts too. It makes me wonder what else you’ve lied to me about.”
Geoffrey exhaled heavily. “You’re angry. You have a right to be, I suppose, but I can’t be sorry for doing what I did to spare you pain. Your life isn’t based on a lie, Francesca. We simply didn’t tell you who your real father was or how your mother really died. Would telling the truth have really made such a difference to your life or changed the person you are today?”
Maybe, maybe not. She looked at Marcia and said, “I get it now. I could never quite measure up to your expectations, no matter what I did. You love me, I know that. But you’ve always held a little something back. I’m half shifter. I’m half of the person who killed your daughter. You’ve never been able to truly see all the way past that, have you?”
Marcia’s mouth hardened, but she didn’t confirm or deny it. She didn’t have to.
Brad put his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. “Look at me, Frankie. You’re loved deeply and unconditionally by every one of us. You’re hurt and angry and overthinking things. I can understand why—you’ve had one hell of a shock and it’s knocked you off balance. But don’t let that shake your confidence and trust in your family.”
“The wolves want to meet with her,” Marcia snippily announced.
Brad’s eyebrows snapped together. “Why? They were perfectly happy to watch her come live with us. They didn’t fight to keep you, Frankie. Didn’t even try to see you. Contacting you now and messing with your life this way—that’s not right.”