The interior of the house is modern with a rustic charm. The living area, which is where I currently am, is surrounded by glass windows that allow one to look at the surrounding forest. Right now, the forest is merely a shadow, but I suppose that during the day, it’s a beautiful and peaceful sight. Natural light probably floods the whole house during daytime, and the floor is made of expensive-looking wood panels. Although the house in itself is rustic and reminds of a glorified and enormous tree house, the furniture is modern and minimalist, but in earthy tones that complement the materials used to build the house. I look around, completely mesmerized. This place does remind me of home, but our house was more of a classic. My father had inherited it from his father, and there were aspects of the house that came from another time. This one is completely modern. I like it. I like it a lot. I force myself to pay more attention to the people around me. Although I don’t see any face
Something takes over my body.I’m forced to act quickly. I head toward the bed and by some miracle, I don’t spill my wine. I leave the wineglass on top of the nightstand and drop to the floor before rolling under the bed. I just need to tuck my arm under the end when the door opens. My paranoia at being seen makes me dizzy, but nobody mentions a thing. Instead, the two people who walked in are none other than Evan and Phillippa. I know this because she asks him, “What’re you doing here? I through I told you not to come.”“You know I wouldn’t stay away,” he says. His voice is steady and the familiarity of it makes me shudder. I look in the direction of my feet and see them standing a few feet apart from each other. “Hector…” she begins and then trails off. “If you’re not ready to tell me what happened, then I don’t think there’s anything left for us to talk about.”Evan walks toward her, closing the distance between them. “I told you a million times already and I’ll tell you again.
Thomas and I lie alongside each other. I'm experiencing a whole bunch of messed up feelings right now, particularly because I feel like I used Thomas to erase that horrible feeling that had been festering inside of me ever since I left Phillippa's mother's house. And it's been very effective. I glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand. There are a few minutes left until midnight, so I can stay for a little while longer. Thomas is next to me, smoking a cigarette. He keeps blowing circles toward the ceiling. His face is covered in a thin layer of sweat. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, but when he senses me looking at him, he turns his face to look at me. A small smile curves his lips. “Everything okay?”“Yeah,” I reply. “You?”“Of course,” he answers. “What kind of guy wouldn’t be happy with having a girl like you in his bed?”I slap his arm. “Stop flattering me. I might get too used to it.”“I wouldn’t mind that.”As much as I want to focus on this moment and on the gorgeous
Julius looks incredibly disappointed when he opens the door. “Good morning,” I greet in the friendliest voice I can muster. There’s a crease between his brows and he’s looking at me with narrowed eyes. He’s clearly upset and if I don’t say something to convince him that I’m sorry for having abandoned the party he invited me to, then I’m screwed. So I hunch my shoulders and tell him, “Julius, I’m really sorry about yesterday. Something came up and I had to rush home.”“You could’ve said something,” he replies. He’s tilting his head like he’s hoping he can get a better look at me. I don’t like the look in his eyes. It’s like he looks suspicious. He’s never looked at me this way before. When he was yelling at Evan for cheating on Phillippa, he looked feral and I caught a glimpse of the man he had been years ago. Right now, I have the same feeling. “I know,” I say, trying to sound humble. “I’m really sorry. I left desperately.”He turns around in his wheelchairs and moves toward the l
There’s one drawer that’s locked and it immediately piques my interest. I search the desk for the key but I can’t find it. For some reason, I’m fairly confident that I can find something good inside of it, something that I might hopefully be able to use as leverage. Unfortunately, without a key, there’s no opening to safely. If I break into it, he’ll know, and then he’ll want to look into it and my cover will be blown because he doesn’t even have to dig deep to find me. I’m right in his house. Same face, different name. He’d still recognize me, though. Of that, I’m certain. I keep looking for other clues. I’m well aware of the ticking clock. Sooner or later, Rose will come looking for me and I’ve taken long enough as it is. I imagine her standing outside of the bathroom door, knocking on the door and asking me whether I’m inside, the tiramisu in her hands. The thought makes me frantic, but I might not have this opportunity again, so I have to make the most of it. I come across a
Evan’s POV“Fucking strange,” Uncle Charlie says to me over the phone. “Can you believe that I never had anyone call my number accidentally? Never?”“Yeah?” I ask, completely disinterested. I have a bunch of paperwork in front of me and I have to get into it. I like talking to my uncle but he’s calling at the wrong damn time. “Just happened. Fucker didn’t even say anything,” he claims. “Anyway, how are you? I got those papers you asked of me.”“Yeah?” I ask. “They’re done?”“As done as ever,” he replies. “I don’t know why you took so long to fake your death, kid. Honestly, you’re lucky that nobody came after you with threats.”“I was a nobody back then,” I state. “Who would even care to remember me? Evan Montague was nothing but a poor boy whose parents left him nothing but bad debts.”“You never know,” Uncle Charlie claims. He sounds like a paranoid old fuck. “Anyway, they’re here. I understand that you don’t want me to send them to you. You’ll come get them yourself.”“That’s right
In the end, I decide that it would be best if I went there myself. I don't want to involve Anthony in any of this. I've given him enough trouble as it is with my life. Now is the time for me to move on without inconveniencing anyone. So, on my day off, I'll ask Bethany to take care of Victor and I'll go see him. I have a fixed plan in my mind that I'm convinced will work. The only way I'll get close to Charlie and get some valuable information about Evan is if I act like I'm me. I can always say I found him and want information on Evan. I'll see then what he'll say. I’ll record our conversation and maybe try to find some clues around the house. I’m assuming Chester Road is where he lives, but I could be wrong. Work was uneventful and I had no chance to go up to the house. I have the lunch with Thomas, though, so I pick up Victor and tell him about it. I take note of how his face scrunches up and his mood shifts. “What, you don’t want to?” I ask him. “It’s whatever,” is his ans
Thomas opens the door for me and we stare at each other for a few seconds before he opens it wider, a signal for me to come inside. Once I’m in, he closes the door. “I don’t know what to say,” I tell him. “I’ve never seen him act like that.”“It’s okay,” he says. “No, really. It is. He’s a kid and I understand that he doesn’t like me. Trust me, I felt the same way about my mother whenever guys talked to her. I know what it’s like.”I recall the way he told me that he thinks Thomas is trying to be his dad. Where’s he getting that from? “I can’t stay long,” I remind him.He nods. “I know. I just thought you’d want to talk about this.”I sigh and cover my face with both hands. This is a nightmare. Thomas clears his throat, and I figure that he has more to say. He slides his hands in the pockets of his jeans and says, “I also thought that we could talk about us for a bit.”This makes me nervous. “What do you mean?”“I don’t know what’s brought you here,” he admits. “People move for al
The longer I stare at Anthony and he doesn't wake up, the more I panic. What if he's dead? What if I didn't just slam the vase in his head for him to pass out? I walk around him, trying to get a good look at his face. He doesn’t appear to be breathing, but maybe I’m just panicking way too much. So, I try not to panic and wait for him to stir, which he hasn’t done in the last ten minutes since I’ve been here standing over him. I decide that I’ve had enough. If he’s dead, then I’d rather know now than wait for longer. I kneel down, barely breathing as I reach out, and press two fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse. My own heartbeat is so loud that it drowns out everything else. But then—a faint throb under my fingertips. He’s alive.I let out a sharp exhale of relief, though it’s short-lived. Slowly, his eyes flutter open, a groggy confusion clouding his gaze as he begins to stir and come to his senses. For a moment, he looks like he doesn’t recognize me, his gaze unfocused
Evan’s POV The road stretches out in front of me, winding and dark. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel, but I can’t let myself loosen my grip—not until I have him back. The text from her still sits on the screen beside me, her message short and mocking. It’s an address, nothing more, like a command.I’m not entirely sure of what to expect from this. Is she mocking me? Did she believe me when I said that I wanted to be with her?I know her well enough, since we’ve been together for quite some time. She wants me to come crawling. To say I was wrong, that I never should’ve left her. She thinks she has that kind of power over me, and I’ll let her believe it. I’ll say whatever she needs to hear, promise her the world if that’s what it takes to get my son back. I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll do whatever is necessary. I’ll be selfless for once. My stomach twists at the thought, a bitterness that feels like swallowing nails, but there’s no other way.I turn off the main roa
Evan’s POVI call Phillippa, and she doesn’t answer the phone. It’s not off, so she’s probably staring at her phone and smiling to herself as she watches her screen light up with my name flashing across it. “Bitch,” I curse before groaning in frustration. Each passing second deepens the knots in my stomach. Victor’s gone, and every instinct in my body screams to find him, to bring him back where he belongs. I didn’t even think that I had it in me to feel so much paternal instinct. I barely know him, yet my despair would’ve been the same even if I’d raised him his whole life. I’ve lost count of the calls I’ve made by now, and I still have no answers. Even some of the men who once were on my side won’t answer the phone. Then again, they were Montgomery contacts, not mine. Every lead has crumbled, and I’m left staring at the emptiness of my own mistakes.I’m fucked, through and through. I should be leaving the city by now if I have any hopes of escaping the bullshit investigation tha
I shove Anthony off of me with all my strength, and even that doesn’t feel enough to completely shake his touch off. It seems this terrible night is determined not to end. It’s like a never-ending nightmare. A surge of disgust and anger rips through me. I can’t believe he’s done this. That he would try to kiss me. I’ve always seen him as a father figure, so this really messes with me more than words can say. He stumbles back, his eyes widening with shock, but his shocked expression quickly changes into a bitter scowl. "Milena," he says, his voice low and edged with that same twisted need he’s tried to rationalize as love only a few moments ago. “You don’t understand. Everything I’ve done... I did for you. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again until you understand. Until it sinks into your thick skull!”“For me?” I hiss, my voice shaking with disbelief and rage. “You murdered Thomas. You tortured Evan. And now you think you can stand here and—what? Kiss me? Confess some sick
Sitting alone in my apartment while Evan goes hunting for our son is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. The silence in the apartment is almost unbearable, pressing down on me with a weight I can't carry. I sit on the edge of the sofa, staring blankly at the door, waiting for it to open, and for Evan to walk into the apartment with Victor safe in his arms. The ache in my chest is relentless; a mixture of fear and guilt and helplessness that threatens to consume me.It’s the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. This despair is unlike any other. There’s no pain worse than having my son taken away from me by some lunatic with the worst of intentions. I’d been a fool to leave him by myself. I was irresponsible. If anything happens to Victor, I’ll blame myself forever. I’ll never get over it. Not ever. Phillippa took him—our son, my sweet Victor. It’s hard to even wrap my mind around the reality of it, that she would go so far, that she would hurt Evan and me by taking the one th
Evan’s POVThe taxi stops outside Leo’s apartment building, and she pays the nosy asshole before we step outside. Leo opens the door and exits the car quickly. She’s moving fast, her body almost vibrating with energy. She’s probably in shock, maybe in pain after everything that’s happened, but right now, she’s got one focus, and that’s Victor. I don’t mind it. At least one of us should get there fast and make sure that that fuck isn’t there, hurting him. I’ve promised her that I have a place where I can put her and Vic for a while, at least just until she can get to the bottom of this. I’d follow her up the stairs, but I know that I’m not going to be able to make it. I watch her disappear inside the building for a moment, feeling that pull again, that sense of her slipping through my fingers, just like she did once before. But I don’t have time to think about that now. But this is different. Now, we have a sort of understanding with each other. She’s not going to run away. Where wo
After a few minutes of messing with the chains, I finally figure out how to release him. Evan lands on the ground with a thud, and groans in pain as a result. I make my way to his side, wanting to touch him to help him stand up, but then stopping myself. These conflicting emotions will be the end of me. I stare at him as he tries to catch his breath, and for a moment, I feel sorry for him. His eyes meet mine, and within them, I see the same amount of sadness that I feel, but his is blended with disbelief. “You shouldn’t have come,” he says before coughing weakly. “You shouldn’t be here. I’m not...worth it.”His words catch me off guard. “What?”“I deserve what’s being done to me,” he then says before his eyes study my face. His body is shaking, and I’m not sure why. “I’m just glad to know that you’re alright.”I grit my teeth. “That’s not your decision to make, Evan. I’m the one who gets to decide what I do, not you.”He turns on his side, and then peels his shirt from his body, sh
“Why would I tell you anything regarding that?” Anthony says to him in the most cruel voice imaginable. I’ve never heard him use this voice on anyone before. I barely even recognize it. Why has he been keeping Evan here? So, he knew where he was this whole time?I have a terrible feeling in my gut. “I just want to know that she’s safe,” Evan rasps. This is followed by a dull sound, like someone punching a wall of meat, and Evan groans in pain. I cover my mouth with my hand. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Why would Anthony do this? Out of all the things he could do, why? Why keep Evan prisoner? He’s clearly hurting him. I came here thinking that I would find a clue concerning whether he killed Thomas or not, but instead, I find this. And there’s no satisfaction in this for me. This is something I never expected from Anthony. I know he hates Evan, but to go to this extent. I almost feel ashamed of my feelings. It’s not like I’m saying this because I care about Evan—he has ruine
“…right, Leo?”I turn my attention back to Anthony, and ask him, “Sorry, what?”Anthony is standing by the window of the living room, eyeing me strangely. He then says, “Are you okay, Leo? Is there something in your mind? You’ve been distracted all day.”“No, I’m fine,” I claim, even though it’s a blatant lie. “Don’t worry about it.”I have to admit that I haven’t been fine since I found that sweater. My spirit is restless, and I have to find out what the hell is going on here. Anthony is hiding things from me. It’s easier to notice this when I’m paying attention, and I can tell the huge difference between his normal state and now. I’m just horrified. The sun behind him is setting, and the fading light casting long shadows across my apartment. I’m sitting on the couch, trying to seem relaxed, but there’s a tightness in my chest that won’t go away. There are times when I think that my suspicions are nonsensical, and that I should just ask him what the sweater was about outright inste