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Or escaped an asylum.
But mostly, I feel lost. I have been a zombie for the past few weeks, and my life has no real purpose.
I grab a set of car keys and dial my uncle, who answers on the second ring. “Did you see the news?”
“I just heard,” Alexander says, breathing hard into the receiver. “It’s only a matter of time before the police show up, asking questions about Belen’s whereabouts.”
“Do you think my dad was in the building?” I ask on my way out of the house, clicking the button on the keyfob to open the doors to a black Mercedes.
“It’s likely.” Alexander sighs. “He spends most of his nights at Kallidromo.”
“Is it possible he set fire to the club for an insurance payout?”
It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Doubtful,” he says immediately to dismiss the idea. “Your father would never do something that stupid on a Saturday night.”
On an auction night.
It’s the first Saturday of the month. Some of the men who attend will pay millions. The women come to the club looking for quick cash—anything to get themselves out of debt and have a better life. And my father receives a large cut of every transaction.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” I barely get out the words as I drive off the property and onto the street, headed toward my old house. “I know it.”
“The timing is rather convenient,” Alexander says, his voice deep and angry. “Your father changed his will last week. And the only person who stood to gain from his death swindled you out of your inheritance.”
That fucking bitch.
Seeing through the window with all the tears in my eyes is hard. So I blink them away, clutching the leather steering wheel. My house is only a few blocks from Uncle Alexander’s. I fly between the tall hedges that line the long driveway and race toward the house. Four cars are out front: Ares’s Camaro SS, Atlas’s G-Wagon, Apollo’s Audi A8, and Athena’s Porsche Cayenne. The wheels screech when I slam on the breaks outside my old house, intentionally hitting Apollo’s car.
Fuck him.
I throw the car into park and get out with the engine running, my Glock tucked into my waistband beneath the oversized shirt. To my surprise, the front door is unlocked. I push it open and step inside.
The house smelled like Athena before I left, but now it feels even less like my childhood home. On the way to the sitting room, I catch a whiff of Chanel. Several loud voices float out from the room as I silently approach, straining to hear their conversation.
I poke my head inside as Athena says, “Good job, Atlas.” She cups her son’s face with a smile. “You did well. Letting Belen catch you in the act with Ophelia was perfect. I couldn’t have timed it better myself.”
What the fuck?
The four of them planned this. Was the letter written in my mother’s handwriting even real? Did she forge it? Or worse, force my mother to write it before she died?
“And you, Apollo.” Athena slides her arm across his neck and kisses his cheek. “My little mastermind. Your father would have been proud. If not for you, we wouldn’t have uncovered the truth.”
About what?
“Ares,” she lilts as her heels click on the floor. She hugs him, and since he’s so much taller than his mother, her head hits his chest. “You were always so sneaky. I’m so glad your talents paid off.”
He kisses her cheek. “Anything to help, Ma. Dad deserved better than what he got.”
They are obsessed with their mother, and I can see the adoring looks in their eyes. While I thought they were mine, they were alwayshers.
“My darling boys,” Athena says with a smile as she stands between them. “You did such a good job keeping your stepsister under control. Now everything is ours.”
Dad is dead.
They killed him.
The authorities haven’t recovered his body from the fire, and this bitch is already plotting what to do with his money.
