Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
And Oliver, eager to atone for his sin, shouldered all the responsibility himself. The company. Sebastian’s health. It made sense. I didn’t like it, but I understood it. Some people carry the weight of their mistakes longer than anyone asks them to.
“Briar.” Felix smiled, almost shyly. “Sorry. I’m out of the loop. Haven’t been myself recently.”
“You’re okay.” I squeezed his arm, glancing between him and Agnes – and only him and Agnes. “I’m so happy to see the two of you again.”
“Honey.” Philomena planted her hand on my shoulder. “We need to discuss the seating arrangements. Are you thinking something big or small? Probably big. Daddy and I have a lot of friends …”
It took everything in my power not to recoil. Not because she rattled me, but because the woman had her acrylic claws wedged deep into my skin. She ushered me away from Agnes and Felix. Ollie’s eyes tracked our movements, narrowing in on where her nails left little dents in my cardigan. I shook my head to let him know I’d handle this myself.
The second we separated from the group, I jerked my shoulder away from the woman who gave birth to me and crossed my arms.
“Mother.” I dripped sarcasm, refusing to play along with her. “No one said you’d be invited, let alone your friends.”
“Please, Briar.” Philomena dropped the cheesy act with an obnoxious snort, her voice still low in case anyone entered ear shot. “Stop with this charade. You’re our daughter.”
“Yours, maybe. Even that is up for debate.” I stopped in the corridor, just shy of the dining hall. “Though Jason isn’t.”
The blood drained from her face. Nearby, a dozen servers fussed over table placements, rearranging fine china, tulips, and candles, oblivious to Philomena’s impending heart attack.
Agnes, Felix, Oliver, and Jason joined us just then, piling into the room.
“The starters are almost served.” Agnes claimed the seat at the head of the table, opposite her husband. “Please join us inside.”
Philomena and I stayed in the hallway, nodding with fake smiles plastered on our faces. We waited for everyone to huddle into the dining room before she returned her attention to me.
“What are you talking about?” she hissed, baring her teeth.
“I heard you that night at the ball.” I folded my arms. “Your conversation with Cooper. Jason isn’t my dad.”
“He is in all the ways that matter. He gave you everything. Always treated you as if you’re his—”
“Did he, though? If this is all he’s capable of as a father, I’m glad I’m an only child.”
“What is wrong with you?” Tears glazed her eyeballs. She would never let them fall. Ruining her perfect makeup just for me was beneath her. “We paid your way through life until you turned eighteen.”
“You dropped me like a hot potato as soon as I celebrated my birthday,” I countered. “And not everything is about money. You literally left me in Switzerland and moved away.”
“It was a reputable school.”
“You never once called.”
“Yes, well, you did enough calling for both of us.”
I shook my head, exasperated. “You are not invited to the wedding.”
“Let’s not be hasty here.” She raised her hands up in surrender. “We made a mistake. But we’d like to reconnect. How can we do it?”
“You can’t.” As if I’d ever let them dip their toes into Oliver’s world – his wealth, his status, his parents. Everything that came with this fake wedding. “But it would be nice if you told me who Cooper is and where I can find him.”
Not that I would, necessarily. But I liked the idea of having the option.
Philomena rocked back on her heels, gnawing on her inner cheek. “This is not a conversation for right now.”
I threw my head back and laughed. It must’ve looked like we were sharing a lovely exchange. “You have no right to decide where and when I speak to you. I’m not a child anymore. I don’t need to ask for permission to broach a subject. Either answer me and I’ll consider inviting you to my wedding, or don’t and bear the consequences.”
I was a woman of my word. Sure, I’d invite her if she fessed up. And place her at a table with Oliver’s accountants, far away from us. Worse still, I’d pair them with Dallas and Farrow, whom I knew would taunt them to oblivion and back.
Philomena opened her mouth, no doubt armed with a snarky response, but Oliver stuck his head from the dining room.
“Sweetheart?” He offered me his palm. “My father would like to make a toast, and frankly, I miss you too much to share you with the Wicked Witch of the West.”
Philomena gasped but didn’t confront him. He was way above her station. She needed to worm her way back into his good graces.
I beamed at my fake fiancé, accepting his hand. “Of course.”