Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I decide to end the work day early so I can go home and assure her that I won’t hurt her obnoxious, intrusive friend.
I don’t like when there are factors that I can’t control in play, but I’m also keenly aware that if Nick kills her for his own reasons now, I am fucked. There will be no convincing Hallie I wasn’t behind it, so now…
Now I have to lie to her.
I don’t enjoy lying. The truth makes everything far less complicated, but given the complexities of her relationship with Charity, I have to move carefully or risk damaging Hallie’s heart. I have two different hands I can play, and I have to play a different one for each of them, but Charity’s a wild card. I don’t know her well enough to know how she will react when I play my hand at her table.
Hallie is sad when I get home. I hate it. She looks up at me with big blue eyes brimming with accusations.
“Is it true?” she asks simply.
I sigh and take a seat at the table where she sits listlessly, her drawing abandoned. “In some ways. I wasn’t entirely honest about a couple of things, but I didn’t lie to you, I just… didn’t think the whole truth was necessary or helpful, so I didn’t share it.”
Then I explain what I can.
I expect she might be hurt when she hears that I had more ammunition to blackmail her with that I hadn’t used, but she actually doesn’t seem that surprised. She nods and says that makes sense—she wasn’t sure how I got the deed so fast.
She asks if I had anything to do with Ross being arrested, and I tell her yes.
Jackson’s death? Yes again. I didn’t like the way he treated her, and I was greedy for the memories he had of her that I didn’t.
To be honest, I think I would have had him killed just so I could have his phone. I don’t tell her that part.
I could tell her about the clones at that point, but I don’t. She already knows I watch her in the house. I don’t want her to know that I can even see what she gets up to on her phone. Then she’ll feel she has nowhere that’s even remotely safe from me, and while that’s true, there’s no benefit to her knowing it.
I want access to all of her, every part. Whether she’s playing that stupid game that makes her click a million things for no real reason, or texting a friend, I want all of it.
People tend to have a thing about privacy, though. I don’t think she would understand.
She asks if I’m sorry, and I tell her the truth.
No. No, I’m not.
I only hurt people who had no qualms about hurting her. She might not be the kind of person who believes in an eye for an eye, but she doesn’t need to be; she has me.
She doesn’t seem to be as upset about Ross—which makes sense, as he’s still alive—or even Jackson—which also makes sense after the way he fucked her over—but she’s a bit hung-up on Mark’s death.
“He had kids, Calvin.”
“I made sure the children were out of the house,” I assure her.
She shakes her head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I also made a donation to that alopecia charity the girlfriend was always posting about. I thought you’d like that.”
She sighs and looks at me like I’m hopeless, but it’s a tolerant look. It’s not, “You’re hopeless and I’m terrified of you, get the hell away from me,” it’s like I forgot to take the garbage out and now we’ll have to wait until next week.
“I can’t believe you did all of that for me.”
“I’m not done,” I assure her. “The house couldn’t be saved, obviously. It burned up in the fire. It was very well set.”
“By Arson?”
I don’t comment. For her own safety, she doesn’t need to know that. “But, fortunately, the lot has gone on the market. Now I can buy it without it looking suspicious. I thought we could do something nice with it, something you would like. Perhaps a park for our daughter to play at when we go to visit her grandmother?”
“A cursed park built on a murder site? I don’t think so.”
“All right. Something else, then.” An idea strikes me. “What about a cat shelter?”
Despite herself, I see a spark of interest. “A cat shelter?”
“I’m sure there are plenty of strays in that town and the ones nearby. We could make a shelter or a sanctuary, somewhere for cats with nowhere else to go. It would obviously be well-funded, so they could take in cats in need of medical attention, expensive surgeries or treatments. Maybe they could even do both. They could take in any cat that comes their way and adopt out the ones they’re able, keep the ones no one wants.”