Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“Have you spoken to her—”
“Wilhelmina!”
I jumped at the sound of my name and the sound of the penthouse door as it slammed shut. Turning to it, the pregnant terror stomped inside as if she owned the damn place, yelling my name as if I were her housemaid or her roommate. Was she insane? From the crazed look in her eye as she came to the couch, I was pretty sure the answer was yes.
“Call her!” she demanded, once again shrieking.
Shocked, I looked behind me to see who she was talking to. Seeing no one there, I looked back to her, and it was then I was certain she was out of her damn mind. Slowly, I rose to my feet.
“Little girl—and I will call you a little girl even as one grows inside of you—if you yell, holler, bark, or anything else that is less than respectful to me again, I swear, pregnant or not, I will smack the taste out of your mouth and on to heaven’s gates. Who do you think you are talking to right now?”
Maybe she remembered because her eyes widened slightly, and she took a breath. “Wilhelmina, I’m sorry. Hormones. I’m just—I’m so lost. And I keep waiting for Odette to call me, but she hasn’t.”
“And why would she call you?” I questioned.
“Why? Really? Because she’s off in some foreign country engaged to some prince! I have no idea what is happening or how this happened. But the media have been blasting my phone. I need to talk to her. But her phone is disconnected, and I have no way to reach her. Has she talked to you?”
“Yes.”
“Breathe, Mrs. Washington.” Mr. Greensboro handed her a glass of water.
I glared at him, but he ignored me.
“I am fine,” she said, refusing him. “Yes? As in yes, she’s called you? But she did not call me.”
“Yes, my daughter called me because she is my daughter. Why she needs to call you, however, is still lost on me.”
“I’m her sister. I should know—”
“Half-sister. And last I checked, you did not call her when you got married. But now you want that courtesy?”
“Wilhelmina, it’s been months. Odette and I already talked that over—”
“I am not Odette. And if you were my sister, after everything you’ve done, not only would I not call you, there would be no way in the world you would feel comfortable enough to barge in here whenever you like,” I stated, stepping forward into her face. “Go home, Augusta. Live your happy life, and leave Odette to hers. She owes you nothing. And you coming here, pretending to me as if you are really concerned—”
“I am concerned.”
I snickered, shaking my head. “No, you are scared.”
“Scared of what? Why would I be—”
“You might have Odette fooled with your fake little act, but I am far too old and have seen far too much to be tricked by you. You’ve been jealous of Odette your whole life. Everything she had, you would beg your father so you would have it too. And things she could not have, you purposely bragged about it in her face. And she never fought you on it because she cared about you so much. Something you know very well. Odette was never good at opening up to others, and you used that to your advantage. You pretend as if you care, you pretend as if you did not see or hear as your mother did one spiteful thing after another—after she stole my house, your sister’s childhood home, right from under us.” I snickered, shaking my head. “You are a snake, like your mother. And the only reason I did not come for you is that I knew my daughter was going to one day wake up and crush you herself. Lo and behold, I was right, which is why you are standing in front of me in mismatched socks and a sorry excuse of a twist out, terrified your sister is going to be the queen of a nation while you are just Mrs. Washington.”
“My mother was right about you,” she stammered out, but I wasn’t sure if it was shame, embarrassment, or anger. “You are nothing but a gold digger, a social climber, looking to be relevant in any way you can. Our father—”
“I will stop you there before you get yourself hurt. The past is the past, Augusta. The future is what matters. And in the future, I am the mother of the next Queen of Ersovia. So why would I care what you or your mother think? Don’t answer—that is a rhetorical question. Mr. Greensboro, please show Mrs. Washington to the door. I should stop talking before I say somethings that will really hurt her feelings,” I replied, turning away from her.
Augusta stomped out the room, slamming the door before Charles could talk to her.