Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Mr. Higgins gestures for me to sit down on the lone chair and I do. He walks a few steps away, pretending to check his phone to give us some privacy.
“Who are the Carlisle-Bents? The Foxes, they showed me a newspaper clipping. They said… They said you kidnapped Mom, and I have a grandfather and an uncle. Dad, what’s going on?”
“The kidnapping, it’s not true, sweetheart. The papers sensationalize, you know that.”
“Tell me the truth then. Tell me the whole story.”
He nods, looking grave. “Your mom and I were together since we were young. You know that part. I worked for her family along with my mother. Claire and I, well, her father had other plans for his daughter that did not include me, and I can tell you now that I have you that I can understand. You want the best for your kids, and I was not that in his eyes. I was staff. She was his only daughter.” He takes a moment to pick up the glass of water on the bedside table and sips. “Then she got pregnant,” he says, glancing away, eyes growing misty. “And when her father found out, he wanted her to abort the baby.”
My heart misses a beat. I’m that baby.
“She obviously didn’t want that. She already loved you. Before she even knew you, she loved you, and she and I ran away. It was the only thing we could think to do. We changed our names and we got by until, of course, the accident.”
“Oh, Dad.”
“We weren’t legally married. We were never legally married.”
I nod to let him know I understand because this part doesn’t matter so much.
“We didn’t have the documents and were afraid we’d get caught. Carlisle-Bent never gave up looking for his daughter. After your mother died, I knew they’d take you from me if they ever found you, so I kept you hidden from them.”
I take it all in, and a glimpse of my face in the reflection of the window shows me I look like we’re having a bland, uninteresting conversation. Like he’s telling me what he had for breakfast or something. Not that what he is telling me is turning my world upside down as he speaks.
“Did they know when she died?”
He shakes his head.
“You didn’t tell them? You didn’t tell her father that she had died?”
“I couldn’t, Phee. I couldn’t let them take you away from me.”
“But you’re my father. They couldn’t take me away.”
“You don’t understand the amount of money and power we’re talking about, sweetheart. If Gordon knew where you were, if he knew you were the last link to his daughter, he’d have done anything to get you back, especially with Claire gone.”
“Dad, the fire. Did you say you were responsible to save Silas? You wouldn’t have…”
He sighs, closes his eyes. It takes him a long minute to open them again. “Silas didn’t set that fire, sweetheart. He wouldn’t hurt you like that.”
That takes me as long to process. “But you would?”
He looks helpless and a little sick.
“I don’t understand any of this.” I stand up, wipe the fresh tears.
A knock comes on the door and a police officer peers inside. “One minute. We’ll begin transfer protocols then.”
Dad nods, but his eyes are on me.
“Phee,” he starts, reaching out a hand to capture mine. I try to pull it away, but he holds on. “I know this is hard to take in, but I was doing what I thought was best for you. You don’t know them. You don’t know what they’re like.”
“You should have told me. You should have told me a long time ago.”
“I know. I know. And if you never believe anything else I say, believe this. I love you and I think Silas loves you. I think he has for a long time. Even if you don’t trust me, trust him. Please. Let him keep you safe. And stay away from the Carlisle-Bents. If Gordon is truly dying, Chandler will be dangerous for you. More dangerous than the Foxes ever were.”
Without knocking, the officer re-enters the room and holds the door open.
“Miss.” He gestures to let me know it’s time to go.
I’m glad because I’m ready to leave here.
I turn, but my dad squeezes my hand and tugs me back toward him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I love you more than anything in this world and I will do anything to protect you, always.”
I sniffle, unable to hold back my tears, unable to hug my father or reassure him. Unable to believe him. Because any trust we had is gone. Whatever his reasons, I no longer know what was true, what was a lie, what is true now, what is a lie now. Those stories he’d tell me about Mom, were they real or were they made up? Did she love him? Did she run away with him? Or is it like the papers said? Did he kidnap her?