Page 49 of Legacy of Deception

I didn’t see where the disconnect was. “Yes.”

“You’re tired of being your father’s pawn.” It should have been positioned as a question, but it came out as more of a statement. One that made me want to grind my molars as she fixed the straw in her drink before wrapping her lips around it.

The very notion that even a woman who lived a thousand miles away knew the way my father treated me pissed me off, but now wasn’t the time to let my anger get the best of me. I tightened my grip on the armrest of the chair, feeling anything but relaxed, a feeling I would think would be synonymous with this setting. “You’re the only person I trust. You’re the only person with the power, the knowledge, to help me.”

She stood up and walked to the sliding glass doors that led into her home. “It’s getting hot out here,” she said, expecting me to follow.

Inside, we walked through the sunroom to her open layout, eat-in kitchen where she pulled out a chair from the white quartz island and sat down, setting her drink in front of her. “You’ll stay with me while you’re in town.”

“I was actually going to try to fly out tonight. They already filed the flight plan.”

“Change it. I’ll order dinner from the most divine new Italian restaurant we have.”

“I suppose I can extend my trip, but we’re still going to continue to talk about this, right?” Modifying my plans didn’t change the fact that I hadn’t flown out just to catch up with an aunt I liked.

She pursed her lips. “You know, you’ve always been my favorite nephew. I see something in you that your brothers don’t possess.”

“You mean resentment for the way my father has always regarded me?”

Narrowing her gaze, it looked like there was a lot on her mind, but she settled for less, simply saying, “Your father is an idiot.”

“Didn’t you love him?”

“At one time. But then he screwed me over.” She shrugged, as though that was all there was to it. I didn’t believe that for a second, but I wasn’t going to get into it.

“So, work with me.”

She shook her head and leaned forward. “I’m sorry. I left all that behind when I left New York. My hands are tied, Marco. You can and will have to find a way to do this on your own.”

Standing, I reached into the pocket of my pants and retrieved the pocket watch once more. I flipped it over and showed it to her, hoping it made her feel inclined to say something. Anything.

“Like the sun,” she said instead, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her red-stained lips. “It’s always been in you. I knew this day would come.”

It hit me like a speeding truck. “In time you will rise.” I had the inscription memorized.

“I don’t bet on losers, Marco. You were always my favorite for a reason.”

Chapter 20

I should ask your brother

Brooklyn

Teardrops washed down my cheeks like rain.

I sniffled, tired of feeling the useless emotion of self-pity. Everything was heightened with this damn pregnancy, even the sadness that came with knowing that going alone to the OB/GYN for a check-up was only the beginning. It was like a symphony that played on repeat in my mind, especially in moments like these, when I was stuck, waiting for the elevator to take me to the first floor so I could leave the building.

However, the more I yearned for something to happen, the less likely it seemed it ever would. The correct terminology for it couldn’t be verified, but I referred to it as cruel fate. That seemed the most fitting.

Brushing back the loose spirals of hair framing my face, I stuck a hand in the snack bag I had packed myself. Lately, I had an overwhelming desire to consume cheese, hence the cheddar cube I was popping in my mouth as the elevator came to a stop and opened on the seventh floor.

It appeared I was only being joined by a mother and daughter, who I suspected was around eleven years old. The mother was wearing sneakers, dark jeans, a black shirt tucked into them, and a black crossbody purse. I felt a tug at my heart over the way she looked, like she was at the end of her rope, her expression tired, her movements almost robotic as she shuffled into the elevator behind her daughter. Would that be me?

“Which floor?” I questioned, leaning over to hover my finger over the buttons. My best guess would have been the main floor, like myself, but I didn’t want to assume.

A sigh rolled through the mother’s throat. “First.” Her tone wasn’t clipped or rude, just exhausted, like she couldn’t muster up an ounce of energy.

I nodded, trying my damnedest not to imagine what I’d look like with my child. I went back to eating my cheese cubes. If I didn’t finish them soon, I’d have to discard them anyway for sanitary reasons. Bacteria.