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Chapter 5
Meg
I’ve got mud under my fingernails.
Soapy suds are everywhere as I lose control of the hose.
Cleaning is not my thing, and yet I find myself scrubbing out the old sink in the garden house.
There are old pots on the ground, and cobwebs adorn the walls. I swear I saw a mouse, and I just can’t quite believe I went from living in a posh NYC apartment to this.
At least with Simon, I never had to get a job.
He’s a financial wizard, and thus I never had to work. Instead, I dealt with a daily onslaught of personal insults and demands.
I scrub the dingy sink out and remind myself of that personal abuse and how I deserve better. Even having to clean is better than being with Simon. Anything is better than having to deal with him.
This is the mantra I say to myself over and over again as I’ve had to do all variety of domestic chores around the mansion.
I’ve barely seen the guys as Mrs. Simmons has kept me busy. She’s had me cleaning out the garage, the cupboards, and the garden house.
At least in here, I have a view of the beautiful grounds. As I scrub, I look out the antiquated window of the little house and admire the birds that are dipping into the water on the lake.
The closest I ever was to nature in NYC was Central Park, but here it’s everywhere. The grounds are gorgeous and lush, and they spread out over acres.
The truth is, I don’t mind the work all that much. It helps to keep my mind off Simon and of my truly dirty task at hand, misleading the men, my new bosses. Also, it’s helped me to get a lay of the mansion so I know where to look for secrets about the will.
The sooner I get this over with the better.
Simon checks in on me every night, and he forces me to text him about every little thing that happens. But so far, the only dirt I’ve dug up has been the grime underneath my fingernails.
It’s a far cry from the life I was living in New York City. I went to school for English at an Ivy League college. I could technically get a job anywhere I want.
And I would do so if I wasn’t so tightly under Simon’s grip.
I’m happy to be away from him and from the constant fighting. The silence of the country is a welcome relief.
It’s my plan to eventually leave this place, to leave him, and to head for paradise. There has to be a tropical island somewhere with my name on it. I can just disappear and recreate my life.
I know that if I get the money for Simon, he won’t care if I come or go. That’s how deep our relationship goes.
That one magical night when I was with all four of the Belcourt brothers watching fireworks seems like a distant memory now that I’m covered in mud and doing household chores.
What was I thinking to imagine that I can ever be with one of them? I know by the gossip I heard at the party that they have the reputation of being playboys.
I guess I was just a pretty face that one night to watch the fireworks with. I had it mistaken. There was no connection.
Anyway, it makes it a lot easier for me to undermine them. I know Mr. Belcourt must’ve kept a copy of his will somewhere, and that’s what I need to get my hands on. It’ll get Simon off my back and out of my life.
He doesn’t know that I’m planning on leaving him, but I spend my nights online searching for the perfect place and the perfect way to find my new identity.
I scrub and I scrub and I scrub, but this damn sink doesn’t seem to want to get clean. It’s about a hundred years old, and I don’t know what the point is.
Isn’t there a gardener somewhere that should be doing this?
I scrub the sink until my hands are raw. Then I turn my attention toward the rest of it.
The rakes and shovels need putting away. I organize the different seeds and categorize the tools until the place looks as pristine as possible. Then I sweep it out and am left in a dusty cloud of my own making.
