Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“He told me. He told me, Father.” She turns to look at me. Her green eyes big and red. “You had a child with another woman?” Her eyes don’t leave mine. “Do you know you caused a man to kill himself?” she questions, then she pulls the cell away from her ear and I hear every word he said.
“Lottie, I don’t have time for this, but if you must know it was a long time ago, and I was hurting. Your mother and I were going through a rough patch, and I needed someone to lean on. Be reasonable. Your mother knows and she forgave me. Now I need you to do the same. We can’t have this kind of issue hanging over our heads.” She doesn’t reply, she simply hangs up on him looking to me.
“You got what you wanted. Me to hate my father. Congratulations, it worked. Now take me home so I never have to see either of you again.” Lottie goes to step off, and I step in front her, my body blocking hers.
“Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” she asks angrily. “Hate you?” She leans in closer to me. “Too late. I used to hate you. Now?” She shakes her head. “Now, I despise you.”
I reach up and touch her face. “You don’t, you’re just angry.”
She pushes my hand away like it’s burning her. “Don’t fucking touch me. The contract is done, is it not?”
I nod, and she sighs.
“Good. I don’t want to see you ever again. Take your fucking house back and get out of my life.” She turns to start walking. Cars fly by us on the busy road as the rain becomes heavier.
“Get in the car, Lottie, before you get hurt.”
“Lottie...” she mimics. “Great! Now I’m Lottie.”
“Bunny.”
She flips me off as she keeps walking. Following her, I step up behind her and grab her wrist. She pulls to get free.
“Get in the damn car, and I won’t bother you again.”
“You promise?”
I feel defeated, but I tell her the truth. “I promise.”
Lottie turns, walking back to the car.
I’m not sure what I did was the right thing. I wanted vengeance for my father, vengeance on a man who didn’t take into consideration anyone’s feelings but his own. He ruined my family and destroyed my father in the process. My father died of a broken heart.
I was hoping to never be the same way.
But as I watch her get in the car, I realize my mistake.
I didn’t expect her.
Lottie Corton.
I guess I’m more like my mother than I thought—falling for a member of the Snow family. It killed one of us, hopefully it doesn’t kill me, too.
CHAPTER 33
LOTTIE
Lies, everything is built on lies. I’m so angry it’s best I keep my mouth shut and not say a word as he drives. Every time I look in his direction, he’s gripping the wheel so hard I’m afraid it will break. When he comes to a stop out front of his house, I straighten up.
“This isn’t my home.”
“It is. Read the paperwork, Lottie.”
I turn to face him, and he doesn’t even look my way. It’s probably for the better that he doesn’t. I get out, slam the door, and fast walk to the door. I don’t even want to walk into this place. I want to go far away from everything that represents Whiskey Corton.
Turning around, I watch as his car drives off, leaving me standing out front. I never thought this would be where my life would take me. I had dreams. And none of this was included. I feel almost ripped off. How is this fair?
Walking in, I shut the door behind me and head to the bedroom. Picking up the paperwork from the floor, I start to read it over.
He’s ended the contract.
Like he said, all deals are off, and in the folder, I will find the only copy of the evidence regarding that night. I reach for it and snap the disk in half, then again into smaller pieces. Somehow, that gives me some gratification, but it’s small and doesn’t last for long.
The contract has ended, but he’s also left the deeds to this house, which is now in my name. But I don’t want it.
Pushing away the paperwork like it’s burning me, I walk straight out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Picking up a bottle of vodka, I open it. His house, or should I say my house, is stocked full of booze.
Before I can drink the first sip, the doorbell rings. I know it’s not him, so I wonder if I should even open it. It rings again, then there’s constant banging on the door. Gripping the bottle in one hand I walk over, pulling it open. My father’s standing there, a look of worry and anger written all over his face. He goes to speak, and before I can hear a word that leaves his lying mouth, I shut the door in his face.