Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
As soon as the car pulled up to my parents’ gate, I stormed out, Ransom following closely behind me.
“Excuse me, Miss Thorne, but I don’t believe your parents are expect—” Daphne in the eternal business casual blazer confronted me when I got to their door. I shouldered past her, going straight up the stairs to my father’s office. What was she going to do, arrest me for visiting my family? Nah. Doing so would create horrible headlines for the precious Thorne family.
I took the stairs two at a time, whirling past housekeepers and administrative staff. When I reached Dad’s double doors, I didn’t bother knocking. I swanned right inside.
Dad was sitting in his office with a few suited men in their forties and fifties. One of them I recognized as Wolfe Keaton, a dashing Chicago-based senator. By the air of self-importance and cigar stench in the room, I could tell the rest were also politicians. Good. This deserved an audience.
He looked up, his eyes flaring in shock at the sight of me. Pushing himself back in his seat, I held up a hand to stop him.
“No. Don’t stand. That’d give you an advantage over me when I run after I finish my speech.”
I had no doubt at all he’d want to wring my neck once I was done with him.
“What’s going on, Sugar Pie?” he asked, still sprawled in his chair. He couldn’t afford to look flustered.
“Such a great question.” I leaned a shoulder over the door, sighing. “What is wrong? I guess a better question would be what is right in my life. And the answer is—not a whole bunch. I have you to thank for that.”
The three men in the room exchanged looks. They knew they shouldn’t be present for this type of conversation. Mr. Keaton stood up, buttoning his suit blazer.
“Well, Tony, it’s been a pleasure, as always…”
“Do stay.” I pushed off the doorframe, striding deeper into the room. “I think you’ll get a nice, intimate glimpse into your good friend’s family life.”
“Hallie.” Dad frowned, tucking his cigar into an ashtray. “I don’t like the theatrics. Say what you came here to say.”
“I saw the article.” I was in front of his desk now. I slammed the glossy, high-brow magazine onto the desk. I thought buying it at the airport was a nice touch. “Really moving, this picture of familial bliss.”
“Hey.” He darted up to his feet. “We called you countless times. We tried to get you to join us. You were unreachable.”
“And you couldn’t get through to me via my ever-present bodyguard, whom you appointed to shadow me despite my objections?”
“We were worried for your safety. You were out and about, not being careful…” He shook his head, as if ridding himself of this horrific image.
“Oh, yeah.” I rolled my eyes, plucking his cigar from the ashtray and pushing it into my mouth. I hated the taste. Still, I puffed on it, just for effect. “Nothing says I worry about my daughter more than hiding her learning disabilities from her!” I pounded my open palm against his desk. He didn’t wince. No. Dad was made of sturdier stuff. We held each other’s gazes. Suddenly, I didn’t give one damn if he cut my finances off. It was worth it. Getting answers was worth it.
“As much as we appreciate the show—and I do have a soft spot for theatrics—we should be going.” Keaton gave a careless toss of his wrist. “Gentlemen, follow me. Tony, best of luck with…this.”
They walked out, passing by Ransom, who stayed at the door. My attention was solely on Dad.
“Hallie…” He winced.
“Why didn’t you tell me I was dyslexic?” I hissed. “That was neglectful, careless, and above all—cruel. I thought I was simple. Stupid. Disposable. You locked me in a golden cage and kept me a secret from the world.”
“Oh, Sugar Pie…” He shook his head, at a loss for words. I had him on that, and he knew it.
“Don’t Sugar Pie me. You did everything in your power to hide my so-called ‘secret’. Even at the price of making me feel like a complete idiot. Then you froze me out of the family—”
“Now, that didn’t happen!” he thundered. “You were the one who pulled back. You were the one who kept on wanting to go out of state for school. You were the one who made up reasons not to join us for holidays and vacations. You did everything you could to show us that you were unhappy with us. That we did a terrible job with you.”
“You did.” I went over to the window and flicked the cigar out onto Mom’s precious rosebushes. It felt good to inflict a little destruction on the people I felt so bitter and angry toward.
“We wanted to protect you.” My father rushed behind me, trying to clasp my shoulders. I shrugged him off. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t to hurt you. We love you. We wanted to spare you the headache. And we thought that we could. With our connections and our pull. The world was at our feet and we thought we could shield you from all the things wrong with it. We didn’t want you to carry the stigma. Didn’t want you to be singled out. So we downplayed it.”