AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But Mom is a first-generation American born to parents who crossed the border illegally and lived much of their lives in fear of being found out, imprisoned, or sent back home. I’m not sure which they considered worst. I never got a chance to meet my grandparents to ask. They were killed in a car accident when Mom was only fourteen.
On her own, she found work and got herself as much schooling as she could, which wasn’t much. But she survived, and she wanted better for me.
I guess in her eyes, living in the cottage or under the Foxes’ roof, despite how unwelcome we are, is still better than being out there on our own and struggling. With those basic needs met, the focus could be my education, me making a better life than she has had.
She is right in some sense. We are living a decent, comfortable life, for the most part, if you can tune out the underlying insults delivered daily—especially by Mira Fox—to Mom. That’s the piece that bothers memost. Mom works her ass off for the ungrateful pricks, and I do too, when I’m not in school.
But that’s the thing. My schooling was part of the deal for Mom to keep her mouth shut about the interest Sly Fox took in her when she was underage. So, I work around the house, do any and all jobs that need to be done, help my mom out, and get myself educated so I can get us the hell out of here.
The day is coming, too. Just one more semester and I’ll be finished. Once I have my degree in hand, I will officially be offered a position in an investment firm I’ve already had discussions with. That, too, is thanks to Sly, just not the way he’d like it.
See, Sly Fox isn’t always charming. He has made enemies in his past. I have found those enemies, and I will use them to “further” myself, a term he likes to use when he tells his friends that he’s paying for my education as if he’s doing it out of the goodness of his heart. I wonder if he thinks they’re stupid because one look at me, and any fool can see who my father is. I have his build, his manner of walking. I had his manner of talking, but I worked through that.
Worst of all, though, I have his eyes, and every time I look in a mirror, I see what that bastard did to my mother.
It's a Sunday evening in early December, and I’m outside hanging Mira Fox’s Christmas lights while she directs from inside the warm house, cocktail in hand. Fucking cunt. Did I mention it’s snowing? Becauseonce snow comes to Sinistral, it stays a good four months, if we’re lucky. Five if we’re not. I fucking hate snow.
Horatio Hart pulls up on the drive, and he and Ophelia climb out.
“Silas, this is no night to be hanging Christmas lights, son. It’s eighteen degrees.”
“Tell that to Mrs. Fox,” I tell him, gesturing to the window where she waves to the Harts and glares at me.
He glances at the house, and I see the tightening of his mouth. From what I see, Hart seems to be a fairly decent man, although with the sheer amount of wealth he has, I’m not a hundred percent sure. The kind of money he and Fox have never comes without someone’s hands getting dirty—not to mention the fact that he’s in business and friendly with Sullivan Fox. That’s two red flags.
He knows the situation with my mother, too. I know he disapproves of how the Foxes treat her and us, and maybe that is where I cut him some slack. Not that there’s much he can do about it. He’s not unkind to my mother or me, either, which makes it difficult to hate him. But those red flags are still right there.
“It’s all right,” I say. “I’m almost done anyway. You all heading out for dinner?”
“Sly, Mira, and I are wining and dining potential investors. Wish us luck. Phee and Ethan have a movie night planned,” he says, and I’m not sure what to take from his tone.
I turn to Ophelia, who is sixteen now. Sweet kid. She’s pretty in a quiet, bookish way. She doesn’t wear much makeup or the kind of clothes a lot of girls her age wear. My mom adores her, and she adores Mom.
Every time her eyes meet mine, a blush creeps into her cheeks, and it takes all I have not to smile. I have a feeling that when I rescued her from idiot Ethan’s swimming lessons, she might have gotten a little crush.
“Hey there, O. Something is different about you,” I start. I know what it is, but I get the feeling she doesn’t get a whole lot of attention because boys her age are idiots, so I draw it out and watch her face light up when she smiles. She pushes her thick and often unruly curls behind her ears. She actually has no idea how pretty she is.
“I’m giving my glasses a rest tonight,” she says, blinking a couple of times before rubbing one eye. “How do people wear these all the time? They’re so irritating.”
Her father laughs. “Did you bring your glasses in case you need to take out the contacts?”
Ophelia rolls her eyes. “We live next door, Dad. I can run over and get them if I need to, but I won’t need to.”
I grin, turning when I hear Mira knocking against the window gesturing for me to hurry up. You’d think they paid me by the hour.
The door opens and Ethan steps out onto the porch. Ophelia turns to him and smiles wide.
I watch her dad, and I swear he tenses when Ethan whistles.
“Well would you look at you? I like it, Hart. I like it.”
“Thanks,” Ophelia says. “I like it too.” She walks toward the house.
“Keep an eye on the kids, will you, Silas?”
“With all due respect, Mr. Hart, I’m not a babysitter, and he’s not a kid.”
Hart turns to me and studies me. “You know things might be easier for you if you’d brush that chip off your shoulder. We’re not all horrible people.” I grit my teeth, and he sighs. “You know I didn’t mean to imply anything by asking, son.”
