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“I’ll reach out to the press and see if we can leak some information about your current state.” Paul takes out his phone and presses his lips together. “How bad do you want it to be?”
“Rich should think that I’m on my fucking deathbed.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Isabella
“You need to stay off the internet,” Tristan warns. “There’s a lot of shit out there right now.”
I untuck my legs, pull my phone away, and look over at him. “Is there something I need to worry about?”
“Carter is fine, but he has to lay low for a few days.”
Fear settles in the center of my stomach and claws through me. “What happened?”
Tristan grimaces. “The less you know, the better. He’s fine, Isabella. He just won’t be reaching out until the next phase of his plan is in motion.”
I swallow. “Please tell me it’s going to be the last phase.”
Tristan exhales. “It should be.”
I cross over to Tristan and link my fingers together. “I need you to tell me what’s going on, please. I can’t live like this.”
Floating from one room to the next, trapped in this too-large house, with my innermost fears and insecurities chipping away at me. I’m going to go crazy if I don’t find out what’s happening.
I need to know more than the fact that Carter is safe. I want to hear it from his own lips, but I know I’m out of luck.
Tristan has spent the past few days muttering into the phone and staying awake. On the few occasions I’ve seen him asleep, he is on the couch or at the kitchen counter, his head at an awkward angle, and several guns near him. I know that being here with me is hard for him, but I also know that he’s not going to let Carter down.
Not again.
Tristan and I have a strange sort of understanding between us now. And we are bound together by our desire to survive the silence and being kept on the outside.
“It shouldn’t be much longer, Isabella,” Tristan tells me without meeting my gaze. “Why don’t you give Sam a call? I know she’d love to hear from you.”
I give Tristan one last pleading look, but he is unmoved.
Huffing, I go down to the basement and flick the lights on. Unable to think of anything else to do with my time, I spent hours last night cleaning every surface till it sparkled and gleamed. Without the dust and dirt, I’m able to appreciate the space better, and I can almost see why Carter included it in the design.
In the morning, the entire place is flooded in sunlight, and it’s got a generous view of the backyard, with its lush green lawn and large sycamore trees. With a sigh, I take my burner out of my pocket and dial Sam’s number. It rings for so long that I think she isn’t going to answer.
On the last ring, she picks up, though she sounds breathless. “Hey.”
“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to answer.”
“No, sorry. I’ve been spending a lot of time with my family. I haven’t seen them in years, so I thought it would be a good chance for me to catch up.”
I sit down on the last step and fix my gaze on a random spot on the wall. “I thought you had a good relationship with them.”
“Most of them,” Sam replies, and then I hear a door clicking shut behind her. “Some shit went down between us when my dad left us, and my mom died. For a while there, it seemed like a lot of them thought that I did it.”
I frown. “Why would they think you killed your mom?”
“They thought my mom had money,” Sam replies in a strange voice. “It took them a long time to figure out that I didn’t steal it, and that I didn’t kill her. Too long, if I’m being honest.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Sam.”
“I’m better off,” Sam responds in a quieter voice. “But I have kept my distance because I didn’t want to get hurt again.”
