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The GPS on Gray’s phone tells us that our destination is just a few minutes away, and I should be nervous, but I’m not. Instead, what would’ve been nervousness is replaced by a type of adrenaline that no amount of drugs, sex, or painting could ever give me. Not quite anger, not quite fear, it’s a mix of feelings I’ve never felt before.
It feels… good.
It makes me feel unstoppable.
No matter what happens, no matter what new heartaches my future may hold, I’m not stopping until this is done.
There’s no security gate partway up the drive like the Montgomerys have, so nothing stops us from rolling right up to the house. I’m glad we didn’t have to buzz someone to be let onto the property, since I want to take Charles and Maria by surprise. I don’t want to give them time to prepare some bullshit excuse or flee.
I’m not really sure if they’d do either of those things. In fact, I have no idea what their reaction to seeing me will be. I’m not sure if my fighting spirit comes from either of them, or if it’s just something I’ve had to pick up throughout life to stay alive, to survive the shit I’ve been through.
None of us say a word as Gray parks the car and we get out. He shoots me a look, asking a silent question. Are you okay?
I shove my hands into my hoodie and nod. I’m not sure “okay” is the right word for it, but I still feel that buzz of adrenaline in my veins, and I’m absolutely sure I want to do this.
As we walk up to the door, I try to look for anything that I might recognize, but just like all the other houses in this area, this one holds no memories for me. Maybe I had a childhood in this home, maybe I didn’t, but that’s not the point.
The point is confronting the parents who abandoned me for their own selfish ends.
And I already thought the world was a shitty place. Turns out, it can always get worse. More fucked up.
I huff a laugh at the dark thought. I was told that my mother was likely a drug addict, and although it sucked to think that she was the reason for my dizzy spells and faulty memory, I never really hated her for it. I figured she had gotten fucked by life just like I had, caught up in the same cycle of destruction that claims so many lives of people without the resources to pull themselves out.
I almost wish that version of my mother was the real one.
When we knock on the door, a middle-aged woman who looks like the housekeeper opens it, but the guys aren’t fucking around. They shove past her, barging into the stately hallway with me following close behind.
“Where are Charles and Maria Davenport?” Gray demands, his voice hard.
The maid stutters, her mouth opening and closing like a fish gulping for water.
“The… Mr. Davenport is…” She gestures toward the stairs, but before she can continue, footsteps sound on the polished marble.
A man appears at the top of the stairs, his dark blonde hair streaked with gray. “Annette, what’s going on here?” he says, looking at us. “Who are these people?”
But when his gaze lands on me, his eyes flash with recognition before he can hide it and pretend he doesn’t know me. He fucking knows who I am. My heart begins to race, all the nerves that weren’t there a second ago rushing through me like a violent storm.
Yup. I’m your long-lost daughter, asshole. Surprise.
“Annette, leave us,” he barks.
“Sir—”
“Leave.”
She scurries off, her head ducked low, and I wonder for a second if my dad is like Alan, a rich monster who thinks he can push people around just because he’s had more luck in life, just because he has a few more zeroes at the end of his bank account.
As the maid disappears deeper into the house, I glance up at my father. He stands at the top of the wide staircase, his brows drawing together as his gaze settles on me.
For a long moment, we just stare at each other. My focus on him is so complete that I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to decide how to handle my sudden reappearance.
“Hey, Dad. Did you miss me?” I drawl, letting poison seep into every syllable.
He blinks, his jaw tightening. My words seem to have shocked a reaction out of him, breaking him out of his stasis. He squares his shoulders, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me. You know exactly who I am,” I shoot back fiercely. “And I know what you did to me, you bastard.”
“I’m going to have to ask you to lea—”
