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Finally, Trace came to a plain black mailbox, and turned in the driveway, but I still couldn’t see the house. The forest surrounded us and I was afraid the craggily branches on the nearby trees would scratch the shiny black finish of the car.
The driveway, or maybe it was a road, went on forever. We still hadn’t come to an end five minutes later.
“Are you really taking me to your mom’s house or did you just drive me out here to murder me where no one can hear me scream?” I gulped.
Trace’s laughter filled the car. “You’re funny.”
Actually, I was being serious. We were in the middle of nowhere and the snow was coming down in thick white flakes that blanketed the ground like a fluffy blanket. At this rate, it would snow six or eight inches. In this area, that was rare, and akin to the zombie apocalypse.
But seriously, if Trace wanted to off me, all he’d have to do—
“Oh my God,” I gasped as the trees finally opened up.
High up on the peak of the hill, we were currently driving up to, was the biggest house—no, mansion—I had ever seen. Avery’s house was huge but could have easily fit inside this one twice.
It was huge…gymungo…gargantuan...imposing. And I was all out of words to describe it. It was all brick with tall windows. A high fence hid the backyard but I was sure there was a massive pool back there and whatever else rich people put in their yards.
My mouth was hanging open and I was pressed as close to the glass of the windshield as possible.
“This isn’t real,” I muttered.
I couldn’t get over the sheer size of the place. I had seen big houses before but never anything like this. It looked like something that should belong to a celebrity not a normal person.
“This is where you grew up?” I squeaked.
“Yeah,” Trace replied, chuckling at my reaction.
“People live here?” I gasped.
He snorted. “That’s typically what people do, you know, live in houses.”
“But it’s so big!” I exclaimed, squinting my eyes, as if that alone would make the mansion smaller.
Trace scratched the back of his head and muttered, “I know.”
“I thought you said your dad was a mechanic?” I accused.
“He was…but it wasn’t his job, just a hobby,” he parked the car in front of a four-car garage attached to the mansion. There was another four-car garage detached from the house with what looked like an apartment overhead.
“Who are you?” I glared at him. I felt like he had lied to me. I thought Trace was just a normal guy, with normal parents, a normal childhood, and this was anything but normal.
He ground his teeth together, and yanked the keys out of the ignition, fiddling with them. “I knew you would react like this and that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
“This is a big thing to keep from me!” I pointed to the house. “You-you’re-ugh!”
“This,” he pointed to the mansion, “changes nothing, Olivia. I’m still me.”
“But—” I gasped, “—you were raised by Daddy Warbucks or something!” I exclaimed, still gaping open-mouthed.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how to explain this to you.”
“How about you use your words for starters!” I was getting angry now. I had been nervous enough to meet his family, toss in this, and I was close to having a heart attack. This was completely unexpected and it made me realize just how little I really did know about Trace. If he had kept this a secret, what else was he hiding?
He licked his lips and took a deep breath. “I come from old money-”
“That makes me feel so much better!” I snapped sarcastically, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Are you going to listen to what I have to say or not?” He waited for me to nod before continuing. “Like I said, I come from old money. It goes back several generations. I was never that interested in our family history so I don’t know how many Greats it might be. Anyway, Great-Granddaddy-Whatever made his fortune during World War I when he invented some new way to make bullets or some shit like that, and it made him a lot of money, and the business boomed from there.”
