Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
I’m not sure Edwin noticed the other man’s scrutiny, but later that night when Mr. Astor cornered us in the hall, he had my husband’s full attention.
Because Franklin Astor, this mysterious and handsome man from a small island up north, couldn’t keep his hungry eyes off of me. Then he did the unthinkable.
He offered us a proposition we couldn’t ignore—an ungodly amount of money for one night with me.
Of course, we were shocked at first, so Mr. Astor gave us his number and told us to think about it. That’s all we did that night, unable to sleep as a disturbing idea took hold in the dead of night, because there was only one thing we needed and it wasn’t more money.
The next morning, we countered with our own offer and made a deal.
That day feels like it took place a lifetime ago, but now that we’ve flown to Zodiac Island in the wee hours of the morning out of a necessity for discretion, our decision is much too real. Dread and self-loathing fill my stomach as I write this, because we’re doing this.
And once we do, there’s no going back.
The date’s entry stops there, and I set aside the journal as I process what my mother wrote. A sense of relief storms through me, because at least she didn’t have a secret affair behind my father’s back. He was complicit in the affair, an accomplice to the illicitness of it.
They did it for our country.
They did it to produce an heir.
And I wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t.
With a deep breath, I pick up the journal and turn to the next page.
March 9th
I’ve done things in my life that have inspired a sense of shame, regardless of whether it was warranted. Nothing will ever compare to the cloak of shame that shrouds me now. I deserve it, and though part of me knows it isn’t fair, I deserve the disappointment in Edwin’s eyes too.
Because now there’s a secret between us, an “incident” we both agreed we wouldn’t discuss. Ever.
I’m not allowed to tell him the details of what happened in Franklin Astor’s private quarters. The memory of his hands on my breasts, his mouth between my thighs, the fullness of him inside me are secrets I’ll carry with me to my grave.
That was the pact Edwin and I made.
We’re on our way home now, and the silence between us is heartbreaking. I have faith we’ll find a way through this together, after some time has passed.
But what if I didn’t conceive?
What if we have to make the decision to go back next month and try again?
The next several entries are a chronicle of how my parents worked through their decision to bring a third person into their bedroom. Though to be accurate, the bedroom belonged to Franklin Astor. For the weeks following that night, resentment and disappointment festered because the gamble didn’t produce the results they prayed for. My mother didn’t get pregnant.
But I wouldn’t be here today if they hadn’t gone back and tried again.
Time runs away from me as I become immersed in the pages, shocked to my core as the truth unfolds. My mother spent two more nights with Franklin Astor before she conceived, and in exchange for his contractual agreement to relinquish all parental rights to my parents, my mother agreed to visit his bed once a year until he no longer wished for her to do so.
Reaching the end of the journal, I close it and set it back on the table. The call of seagulls drift into the room, but otherwise it’s utterly quiet. I sit, unmoving, fighting tears as I wrap my head around everything I learned today. I don’t want to believe it, but my mother’s words are indisputable evidence.
Edwin Van Buren was not my biological father.
A soft knock startles me from my stupor, and I lift my head as Liam steps into the sitting room. He closes the distance but stops before coming within touching distance, and I can’t ignore the awkwardness between us after the way we left things the last time I saw him, when he forbade me from touching myself.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine.” The lie rolls off my tongue without hesitation, and a small ping of regret arrows through my heart. Lying to Liam Castle isn’t something I want to do, but I don’t have a choice.
With a sigh, he takes a step closer. “You don’t seem fine. Faye didn’t, either. She just left the island.”
I knew she’d leave, but hearing confirmation hurts more than I thought it would. “She wasn’t happy here, so I relieved her of her duties.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I know how close the two of you are.”
“I appreciate your use of the present tense.” For the first time since discovering her betrayal, a niggle of forgiveness aches in my chest, and I blink, sending a bitter tear down my cheek. Before I know it, they’re escaping my eyes like a faucet with a constant drip. “I could use your arms right now. Is that against the rules?”