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“I have to go,” I say, not even looking up at Sullivan as I say the words.
“This isn’t the end, Harlow, it’s merely the beginning.”
Oh, how I wish that were the truth.
15
This isn’t the end, Harlow, it’s merely the beginning. Sullivan’s words haunt me later that night as I lie awake in bed, unable to sleep. Tossing and turning, all I can do is think, my brain refusing to shut off.
I should be sleeping, getting some rest because tomorrow is going to be a long day, but I can’t stop thinking about what he said. Maybe he’s right. Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe it is just the beginning…the question is, the beginning of what? A loveless life as a prisoner?
No, I can’t just let this happen to me, I need to try and save myself, without endangering the guys. There has to be a way for me to fight back, to get out of this situation. I can’t marry Matt, but I also can’t let my father hurt the men I love. I have to do something… anything. Filled with nervous energy, I don’t even think as I tiptoe from my bed.
The house is quiet and bathed in complete darkness. My parents should be asleep by now. Which gives me the perfect opportunity to go snooping. If I can just find something, a tiny indication of my father doing shady business, I would have the leverage I need against him. I could force him to let me go, force him to let me be with the Bishops.
Like a ninja, I move through the house wearing nothing but my pajamas. I head to the most likely place I would find something… my father’s office. When he is at home, he is usually in there, working or maybe just hiding from my mom. I don’t know what he does in there, but he does spend a lot of time locked inside.
I push the heavy wooden door open, entering the room, I can smell nothing but his spicy cologne. It lingers in the space, leaving me with an uneasy feeling in my gut. Switching on the light the room illuminates with a soft glow, one of the walls is covered in bookshelves, there is a wet bar beneath the huge bay window, and an oversized mahogany desk is centered in the room. My gaze pauses on the bookshelves and then moves back to his desk. I decide to start there first.
Moving behind the desk, I take a seat on the soft leather chair and start to go through the drawers. The first has nothing but cigars, lighters, and cigar cutters inside. The second holds an assortment of contents, the drawer looks to be like a catch-all. I rummage through it, gagging when I find two condoms and… lube. What the fuck? Shutting the drawer quickly, I swallow down the puke threatening to rise up my throat.
Reaching for the brass knob on the third drawer, I pull it but find it doesn’t open. It discourages me and gives me hope all at the same time. I might not be able to get in there, but it must have something worthwhile in there. Something that he is hiding.
I mean, why else would it be locked?
All I need is one thing, one piece of evidence to use against him.
Grabbing his heavy letter opener from the top of the desk, I use it to try and pry the drawer open. After a few minutes, I nearly give up, but then I hear it, a crack sounds inside of the drawer, almost like something is breaking.
Yes! Excitement fills my veins, and I give it one final shove, and the stupid lock comes undone. Thank god! I could cry, I’m so happy.
The drawer pops open, and I stare down at its contents with confusion. It’s not what I expected to find. Instead of business notes or documents, I find old photos and something that looks like hand-written letters.
Digging through the contents, my confusion mounts, because I don’t recognize the woman in these pictures. She’s most definitely not my mother, so who is she? I recognize my dad, a younger, carefree looking version of him, standing beside the mysterious woman in the photos, there is something oddly familiar about her. Staring at the image, I try and place her in my mind. Maybe I knew her before I lost my memory, and that’s why she seems familiar?
When my head starts to hurt, I decide to switch gears and open one of the letters. I scan over the words, my heart pounding in my chest as I do.
To the love of my life,
It’s been days since I last saw your face. Every night I fall asleep dreaming of the day you’ll be mine. I know that George thinks that the baby is his, but I know that it’s mine. We belong together, as a family. Please come back to me, my love.
