Page 100 of Raise Hell

And there are plenty of locked doors inside Havoc House, not that I get much of a chance to look around when I’m inside.

The only parts I get to see are the entryway and Drake’s bedroom.

Not that I’m minding the last part so much. I tell myself this is all part of the plan, but it’s not like I’m in control of my body’s response to him.

I would stop if I could.

After two weeks of getting almost nowhere, I finally cave into the urge to call my father.

My old phone is full of dozens of text messages and missed calls from friends in Detroit who want to know what happened to their girl, Gigi.

I ignore them all.

It’s getting harder to remember who I was before I came to St. Bart’s. Pretending to be my sister has taken me over to the point that I’m losing track of the boundary line between us.

“Hello,” he answers on the first ring.

“Hey.”

There is a moment of silence so long I think he might have hung up on me.

“What do you want, Evangeline? I’m not sending you any money.”

I can already feel the old anger and frustration rising up in me. This is the same man who abandoned me at the first sign I couldn’t be the perfect daughter he wanted.

Or the perfect son. It was never lost on Olivia and I just how much our father wanted a son, an heir to carry on the family name. She responded by going overboard to please him, as if there was anything she could do to make up for the inherent failures of our gender.

I took a different path.

“How is Olivia doing?” I ask, striving for a neutral tone despite my annoyance.

“Stable.” His voice is clipped. “She responds to painful stimuli and sometimes blinks. The doctors I’ve paid a fortune for tell me that is a good sign.”

“Do they think she’ll wake up?”

I wait, listening to his breathing on the other end.

“I’ve been told it’s important to remain optimistic,” he says finally. “But it doesn’t look good. Only time will tell.”

For a flashing second, I think about telling him everything. Admitting I stole Olivia’s identity and came to St. Bart’s to find her attacker, telling him I’ve been threatened and I think what happened to her is even worse than we originally thought.

But only a single word comes out of my mouth. “Okay.”

“Is there anything else?” He doesn’t try to hide his desire to get off the phone.

“No, that’s it. I just wanted an update.”

“Fine.” He clears his throat. “Please don’t bother your mother. She hasn’t been doing well lately.”

I hear the announcement for a boarding call in the background.

“When was the last time you were even home?”

“None of your business.” A woman giggles, and I hear the shuffling sound as he shifts the phone to the other ear. “My work requires me to travel. Your mother understands that. If there is nothing else, then I really must go. I have a plane to catch.”

I’m not surprised he doesn’t ask where I am, not that I’d tell him the truth if he did. I could be calling him from a ditch while I bled out, and all he’d want to know was why I’d picked him to bother.

“Who is that with you?” I ask, voice caustic.

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