Page 61 of Painted Truths

Guiltily jumping, I drop the locket into the back of my pants, away from her suspicious eyes. If she found it, there'd be hell to pay.

"Has your father left? Did he say anything about sending the money?"

Without waiting for a reply, she walks to the foyer window, obviously checking for the presence of his car.

"Yes, Mummy. He said it would be there this evening."

Clapping her hands together with unhampered glee, I can't stop the words from leaving my mouth even as I know I'll surely earn another punishment.

"What do you need the money for anyway?"

Instead of the backhanded slap I fully expected from this woman, she smiles. But, as always with her, it's not a genuine smile; it scares me.

"Investments and such, my dear Enrico. Nothing to concern yourself with."

Aged 15

"Thank you for a great afternoon, Mrs North."

My best friends Caden and Archer snort in the back seat of the Range Rover, driven by their mum, Clarisse.

"I've told you, Henry, call me Clary." Her pretty face breaks into a bright smile similar to her sons’ when they're not being tossers.

"Are you sure there's someone home?"

I glance back at the sparsely lit house, knowing without a doubt she is inside. After yesterday's argument, when I'd outright refused to refer to her as “Mummy” any longer, I know with certainty she’ll be home.

Waiting.

Planning.

Very little goes unpunished in the DeMarco household; not that I'd ever share that with a living soul.

Pride cometh before a fall.

Words I'd heard spoken around my dad's offices upon the rare occasion I'd visited in the last couple of years ring through my ears, but I swallow them down into the depths of my stomach, where they churn like bile.

"Thanks… Clary." I nod, a blush suffusing my cheeks, which my friends will no doubt plague me for tomorrow at school.

Waving my farewell, the Range Rover ambles down the extensive driveway with Cade and Arch stuck to the back window, flipping me the bird.

A wave of unwanted jealousy threatens, but I push it down, knowing those two are well aware of just how lucky they are to have such a beautiful family.

And besides, I have Al.

Entering the mostly unlit house, I immediately notice something unusual: a light coming from the wide-open door of my father's study.

Making my way across the foyer, thrilled at the thought of him visiting, having not seen him since before Christmas, I'm sorely disappointed to find Lauren sitting in his chair.

Her legs are elevated, her feet resting on the desk, and my cat, Millefeuille, is stretched lazily across her lap.

"And where have you been?"

Swallowing deeply, I raise my chin in silent refusal to be cowed.

"I told you, the Norths had a sleepover for the twins' birthday."

Nodding slowly, she raises her eyes to mine.