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My family had dispersed from the hall, tired of waiting. Only Dr. Cruz and Sloane remained outside the door.
“I’ll check on your father,” the doctor said, astute enough to pick up on my volatile mood. He slipped into the room, and the door closed behind him with a softclick.
Concern shadowed Sloane’s face. She opened her mouth, but I brushed past her before she could get a word out.
A strange underwater silence bloomed in the hall, muffling every noise except the thud of my footsteps.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The hall split into opposite directions at the end. The left led to my bedroom; the right led to my father’s study.
I should retreat to my room. I wasn’t in the right headspace for reading the letter, and a part of me worried therewasno letter. I wouldn’t put it past my father to play some sick game where he got my hopes up only to crush them.
I swung left and made it two steps before morbid curiosity pressed replay on my father’s confession.
Your mother left you a letter. Top drawer of my desk.
I came to a halt and squeezed my eyes shut.Dammit.
If I were smart, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of taking the bait. But this was my chance to potentially hold a piece of my mother again, and even if he was lying, I had to know.
I backtracked to the other end of the hall and into his office. The top drawer was unlocked, and a sticky mess of dread, anticipation, and anxiety roiled my stomach as I slid it open.
The first thing I saw was a gold pocket watch. Beneath it, a yellowing envelope sat tucked against the dark wood.
I unsealed it with a shaky hand, smoothed out the letter inside…and there it was. A page filled with my mother’s flowing script.
My throat constricted.
Emotion swept through me, quick and violent as a summer storm, but relief didn’t get a chance to settle before I started reading.
It was only then that I understood exactly why my father had told me about the letter.
CHAPTER14
Sloane
After his brief spell of lucidity on Thursday, Alberto’s condition took a turn for the worse. He slipped into a coma the day after, and this time, the doctor appeared less optimistic about his chances of surviving the next forty-eight hours.
Both the family and I started preparing for the worst. While I monitored the media excessively for leaks, a priest arrived to be on hand for last rites, and Xavier’s family ambushed the lawyer every time he stepped foot inside the house. Sometimes, at night, I swore I heard the ghostly wail of someone crying.
Since I wasn’t a superstitious person, I attributed it to the wind. I also didn’t mind the busywork. It kept my mind off my father’s email, which I’d deleted without reply.
Xavier himself didn’t return to his father’s side. I didn’t know what they’d talked about when Alberto was awake, but he’d barely left his room since then. Even an offer to watch a rom-com and drink every time the quirky female lead did something klutzy didn’t rouse him from his seclusion.
By Saturday, I’d had enough. It was time to take matters into my own hands.
I strode down the hall and stopped in front of Xavier’s room. I’d convinced the head housekeeper to lend me her master key, but a pinch of apprehension needled me when I knocked and didn’t get a reply.
I hadn’t expected one, but that didn’t stop my mind from conjuring the worst images of what lay beyond the door.
Piles of empty bottles and filth. Drugs. Xavier overdosed and dead.
I’d never known him to dabble in drugs, but there was a first time for everything.
The apprehension swelled as I inserted the key into the knob.
One twist and the door opened, revealing…
