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“I’m still your daughter. You can’t just kick me out,” I whimpered, my face all wet and my nose runny.
“Please,” I begged, resting my back on the door.
I flung the pregnancy test away, enraged and devastated. Leaning on the door, I slid slowly to the ground and broke down. The only people I’d thought would have my back wouldn’t even hear me out. I waited, hoping someone would open the door and let me back into the house, but nothing happened.
An hour passed, and I was still waiting. My neighbors pulled into their driveway, staring at me as they exited their car. I expected them to walk up to me and ask questions and maybe help, but they walked straight into their house. They weren’t just my neighbors. I was their babysitter—favorite babysitter, according to Mrs. Darnley.
I picked up my phone from my purse and called my sister, but it went straight to voice mail. I was about to call my mom when a sleek black SUV stopped in front of my house.
A man who looked to be in his mid-forties stepped out. His bald head glistened under the blazing sun. He was short. I guessed he was five feet tall. His round stomach made his tux look tight, like if he stretched both arms, the buttons wouldn’t hold anymore. His thin legs reminded me of a cartoon character fromDespicable Me.He adjusted his tux and walked toward my house. I cocked a brow at him as he got closer. He didn’t climb the steps. He gave me a firm smile and stood straight, like he was being controlled. I noticed the white gloves on his hands.
“Hi, I’m Morris.” His accent was hard to place.
“Can I help you?” I asked, not wiping my tears away or composing myself, like my mom would want right now.
“I’m here for Miss Chloe Simpson.”
I stared at him closely. “Are you a journalist?” I asked.
“No,” he answered with the same neutral expression.
“Then, what do you want?”
“Mr. Sanchester sent me to get you.”
“Tristan?”
“Yes, Miss Simpson.”
“Why?”
“I was asked to keep an eye on you to make sure you’re okay, but you don’t look good. I informed Mr. Sanchester of your situation, so he sent me to come and pick you up.”
He sent someone to spy on me?
I chuckled humorlessly at first and stared at him, waiting for the truth. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with his fingers intertwined and placed in front of him.
Should I trust him? What if he’s a hit man, sent by the Novas to kill me?
I stared at him for a while. He had none of the qualities of a hit man from what I had observed. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the door.
It seemed my parents didn’t plan on letting me back into the house. They wouldn’t take me back even if they knew the truth. It didn’t matter if Tristan had lied or not. I had already broken their trust.
I had nowhere to go, no relatives that I knew of who would let me stay with them. Mom had control of my account because she was the one who’d opened it for me, and she’d made me quit my last job because she didn’t like me coming home late. So, I had nothing.
My head hurt from crying and shouting. I felt hungry and thirsty. That was the least of my problems right now. I needed Tristan Sanchester’s location, so I could murder him, and he’d just made it easy for me.
I stood up with a sigh. “Take me to that asshole,” I said, clenching my fist.
I turned around, and my heart skipped a beat as I noticed my suitcases were missing. Morris was waiting for me with the door open, gesturing for me to enter.Gosh, he is weird.
I walked to the car, taking the backseat. I stared at my house as we pulled out of my driveway. I wiped my tears away and tried to toughen up. I saw my sister staring at me from her room. I raised my middle finger, pointing at her frigid face.
My phone rang as my house disappeared from my view. I reached for it quickly, wishing it were my dad calling me to come back home, but I felt disappointed when I saw it was my best friend, Belvina.
“Hey, Vina,” I said weakly.
