Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
“Why didn’t my father deal with Wolfe? Since he watched, too?” I hated that I was asking her questions. But unlike my husband, my pride was not as vital for my survival.
Kristen huffed. “Wolfe was just a kid back then. He didn’t know the key players and didn’t have an open beef with The Outfit like his brother. Not to mention, no one was going to believe him. Plus, I guess even your father has some morals,” she scanned me with disgust. My jaw tensed, but I said nothing, too afraid she’d stop talking.
“Anyway,” she singsonged, “can you guess what happened next?”
“No,” I gritted out. “But I bet you’ll be happy to tell me.”
I knew that she was telling the truth. Not because Kristen wasn’t capable of lying, but because she was having too much fun delivering the news for it not to be accurate.
“Wolfe goes off to college. Makes friends. Lives his best life, so to speak. Second year at Harvard, he’s about to come back for summer vacation when the ballroom where his parents are attending a charity gala explodes with a ton of politicians and high-end diplomats inside. Any guesses who’s responsible for it?”
My father, of course.
I remembered that incident. One summer when I was eight, we didn’t go to Italy. My father was arrested for the ballroom incident and released shortly after for lack of evidence. My mother was crying all the time, and her friends were always around. When Dad got out, they started fighting. A lot. Maybe that was the moment my mother realized she didn’t marry a good man.
In the end, they decided that the best course of action would be to send me to boarding school. I knew they were protecting me from my father’s reputation here in Chicago and giving me my best shot.
Kristen whistled again, shaking her head. “Suffice it to say, your husband did not return from that trauma. The problem was, officially, and on paper, the blowout was the result of a gas leak. The entire hotel chain shut down soon after. Your father’s arrest was a farce. They couldn’t even send him to trial even though everyone knew he got back at Wolfe’s mother, a Supreme Court judge, for ruling against one of his best friends.”
Lorenzo Florence. He was still in prison. He smuggled over five-hundred kilograms of heroin into the US, working for my father.
I stumbled back, collapsing to the grass. My bodyguards had had enough. They both started in my direction. Kristen pushed off the tree, squatting to my eye level, and smiling brightly. “So now Wolfe really wants to get back at your father and gather ammo against him. He’s been doing that ever since he graduated, actually. Through private investigators and endless resources, he managed to find something on your father. Whatever it is, he is hanging it over his head. You know the end game was always to kill your father, right?”
I couldn’t answer. They dragged me toward the car while I kicked and screamed. I wanted to stay and listen. I wanted to run away.
“He’ll be the heir to The Outfit…” Kristen yelled, running after us. One of the bodyguards pushed her, but she was having too much fun.
“He doesn’t want The Outfit,” I screamed back to her.
“He’ll discard you just as he’s always planned. Have you ever wondered why he never bothered to have you sign a pre-nup? Don’t be so sure you’ll get out of this in one piece. It’s not like anyone from Wolfe’s family did…”
“No, you’re wrong.” I felt my lower lip trembling. They ducked me into the back seat of the vehicle and slammed the door behind me. I felt dizzy and nauseous. I was too physically weak and emotionally shocked to cope with these revelations.
Kristen appeared at the window and signaled for me to roll it down. One of the EPAs nearly beat her off from inside the car, but I rolled the window down, anyway. She pushed her head into the car.
“He’ll throw you out by the end of the year, sweetheart. Once he’s had enough of fucking you. I’ve seen it happen a thousand times before. Wolfe Keaton doesn’t do love, sweetie.”
“Maybe not with you,” I bit back. She frowned, looking wounded.
“You’re delusional,” she said.
“And you’re desperate. How did you find out this information?”
She shrugged, a bitter smile spreading on her face like margarine. Easy but toxic.
I didn’t have to ask again. I knew.
My father.
That night, when Wolfe arrived at my bed to bring me the dinner I’d missed, I turned him away. I wasn’t ready to face him, and I definitely wasn’t ready to tell him about the pregnancy. I knew deep down that Kristen was at least partly right. This was Wolfe’s plan all along. To ruin my family and discard me somewhere along the way. Whether the plan was still in motion or not was beside the point. Not that I had the greenest clue what his plan was nowadays.