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Two days ago, I decided to get a private investigator to find Layla. I felt that I needed to do something for myself and not rely on Hunter.
However, yesterday, the private investigator confirmed that Layla's Facebook posts were indeed fake and being posted from my father's address. He also confirmed that Layla's phone hadn't received any phone calls since January.
It was the same thing Hunter said.
I didn't want to believe him, although I didn't doubt him. But having a second opinion has really hit home that my father isn't the man I thought he was.
Something awful is going on. Something to do with Dad, and worrying about Layla is eating me alive.
The private investigator is still looking into things, but in the back of my mind, I believe he won't be as good as Hunter's resources. Being who he is, he'd have the best at his fingertips.
I decided I'd wait to hear from the private investigator before I do anything else. Hopefully by then, I'll know what to do.
At the moment, when Dad calls, I'm trying to be myself. I know I'm in way over my head when it comes to him. I worry that if he could do so much to all these people, what would he do to me if I crossed him?
Me, the dutiful daughter. I feel like such a fool.
I am the daughter who always thought of duty and her family, but I was just a pawn in a game. Dad used me. The only thing he's ever wanted was to become governor. He said so himself the other day, "onwards and upwards."
The only other thing he'd be aiming for after being governor is becoming president of the country.
The thing about it is, he could achieve it. Dad has all his pieces laid out on the table to push him to where he needs to go.
The people love him so much they’re willing to follow and do whatever he says. And he has the backing of the Le Blanches, something I made possible through my marriage to Hunter.
My father has it all.
The sound of the front door opening and closing pulls me from my thoughts.
Emily's back. Good. I've enjoyed this time I've had to myself, but silence is my enemy again. There's too much to think about and too many loose ends hanging in the air that I can't connect.
Right now, it’s not healthy for me to be alone worrying about Layla and Dad.
Emily walks into the kitchen and gives me a warm smile. I set the cleaning sponge back in the sink and the plate on the stack in the rack, then I smile back at her, trying to look like I'm okay.
"How did it go?"
"Amazing.” Excitement colors her face. “We think we found the perfect house. We're just waiting to get clearance, then we'll put an offer on the place. It's a beautiful country-style home in the suburbs."
"That's fantastic."
"Yes. I can't wait to show it to you. If we get it, that is, but I think we will.” She brings her hands together and smiles wider. “If we do, we'll be moved in within the next two to three months, which will be perfect before the wedding. We can just focus on moving in, then get married and start our lives."
"I'm so happy for you, Emily." I am happy for her, but sadness laces my voice, sadness for myself.
Not long ago, I was starting my life with Hunter. Now, I don't know where we are. I told him to stay away from me. Although I still have his rings on my finger, I feel like we're heading toward the end.
Emily comes closer and rests a hand on my shoulder. "How are you holding up?"
I guess I'm like an open book, and she can tell that I'm not doing so well.
"I'm doing my best." My answer makes her look more concerned. "I just don't know what I'm going to do or where I go from here."
"You've been with me for a few days now. I've purposely allowed you the time to think without interference. Of course, I've told you to be careful when it comes to your father because we don't know what's going on with him. But Hunter,"—she pauses for a minute—"I think things are different when it comes to him." She drops her hand to her side.
"That sounds like you have some advice."
"I do. Do you want to hear it?"
