Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
It’s just gut-wrenching that Aleksander took advantage of that feeling, just as his—our—father took advantage of Mom’s loneliness.
Some bad habits run in the family, I guess.
So does bad luck.
There’s still one lingering question, though, and I frown.
“What made you stop sending the letters? I read them all.”
Mom sighs.
“There are so many things that came to a head, I think. The fact that he never even acknowledged receiving the letters, for one, on all the nights we spent together. Little by little, I began to see his other side. His callousness, his cruelty. His truth, shining through the cracks of his wealth and intelligence and perfection. I was getting tired of being someone’s dirty little secret, and then—” She bites her lip. “Then we lost Ethan. And I knew—I knew there were questions about his sons. Your brothers. And Montero saw my grief. He wouldn’t even speak to me about it. Wouldn’t even let me ask him why. He made me realize I was no use to him if I wasn’t gratifying his appetites. One day, I woke up and refused to do that any longer. If he ever wanted to be a father to you girls, I told him he could speak to me then, but otherwise to stay the hell out of my life.”
“And he never did, did he?” I ask softly, touching the back of her hand. “That was it. It was always just us... and he went back to his gold tower.”
“Yes,” she says. “But I wouldn’t dare give up the gifts he gave me for the world. He gave me two angels, and I’ve never been lonely since the day you girls were born.”
“Oh my God, stop,” I gasp, wiping my eye with a shaky laugh. “I’m going to start sobbing again.”
“Well, in my humble opinion, Montero Arrendell can fuck right off,” Ros flares, shaking her head harshly. “Wait, should I call him Dad? Dad. Dad can fuck off.”
My laugh comes out stronger this time.
“You do you, Ros. I’m never calling him Dad. No tearful family reunions for us.”
“I don’t know.” Frowning, Ros gives me a puzzled look. “Should we? I mean, do you want to say anything to him? Do we want to tell him we know?”
“What good would it do?” I ask bitterly. “Do you really want him as a father now? I don’t. I want absolutely nothing to do with that man.”
I mean every cutting word.
Call it impulsive, but now that I know the truth about our family, about who my father is?
I wish I didn’t.
I don’t want him in my life.
I don’t want excuses or apologies or explanations—if a stone-cold prick like him ever had it in him to offer any at all.
More than anything, I just want him gone.
After Aleksander went after Ros and Nelly, after the questions with Ethan, after the appalling damage they’ve done to this town, I just want to escape the Arrendells’ stain.
I want to see all their ugly secrets and crimes come spilling out, and I want them to pay dearly.
I want a life untouched by their pain.
Give me distance.
Such a huge, gaping chasm between us and them that I can live a normal life and blissfully forget that I share their toxic blood.
Ros wrinkles her nose. “He saw me with Aleksander. He knew, and he didn’t try to stop it at all. He could’ve told me the truth any time. So, no. I don’t even want to remember I’m related to... to those people.” She chokes on the last two words.
To Aleksander, she means.
I can’t blame her.
Honestly, I’ve never been happier my sister is so committed to waiting until marriage.
“Then it’s settled,” I say. “We keep our distance. We don’t acknowledge him. He won’t acknowledge us, and we live our best lives apart. The prick obviously never cared, anyway.”
“But he kept the letters...” Ros points out slowly.
Ugh, yeah.
He did.
Which raises another question that makes me shake my head.
“That’s what’s so weird to me. Mom, you gave those letters to Cora, right? So how did Mason Law wind up with them?”
“Mason Law?” Mom purses her lips. “I don’t rightly know, dear. I didn’t know him.”
“I do,” a voice says in a bearish growl at my back. My heart flutters. “Hi, Angela. It’s damn good to see you awake. Am I interrupting?”
I have to force myself to move slowly as I turn to face Grant.
He stands in the doorway in a full crisp uniform, handsome as ever in the trim lines of navy blue-black outlining the hard-cut of his figure underneath.
Mom brightens instantly.
I’d bet I’m wearing the same look, only ten times more intense.
“Grant!” she gushes. “Aren’t you a handsome sight? Have you proposed to my daughter yet while I was out?”
“Mom!” I cough. “You were out for a few weeks. Not ten years...”
“Not yet,” Grant answers bluntly.