Page 210 of Bishop

I wince as Tilly shrugs into me, her cheek resting against the scarf at my neck.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done,” I murmur awkwardly as Matthew slides into the opposite seat, closing the door behind him. “I don’t know how you found a furnished place for us so quickly, but I’ll repay you as soon as I can.”

“There’s nothing to repay.” Matthew scowls at the cell in his hand, aggressively typing on screen. “I called in a few favors and we were fortunate enough that things panned out. Grasp the good luck while you can.”

I nod, taking the hint that he’s just as uncomfortable talking about me being indebted to him as I am.

Originally, the plan was that Tilly and I would move in with him and Layla. He’d order a child’s bed, some sheets and kiddie things, too, and we’d make do living together for a while.

I’d actually preferred it that way, with another mother close by to whisper words of encouragement and guide me toward easier solutions when necessary.

Now I’m going to be on my own, and it’s scary as hell.

“You’ll be fine.” Layla places a hand on my thigh and squeezes. “I’m told you’ll only be living a few short blocks away.”

“I know.” I lean my face closer to the tinted window, pretending to take in the sun.

The drive takes a while, the busy city streets full of honking cars, while every sidewalk teems with people in business suits.

It’s entirely different to Denver. More green. Entirely prestigious.

I can’t get my head around the influx of change.

A child psychologist has already been arranged for Tilly. Daily appointments are scheduled as of tomorrow. I’m told I already have my own bank account filled with a generous amount of my uncle’s money. A payoff, it seems, in an attempt to distract me from the air that still fills my mother’s lungs.

Then there are all my worldly possessions back at the family home that strangers are now packing to bring to D.C.

I couldn’t stand the thought of stepping foot inside that house again. I wouldn’t care if it was torched to the ground. If it weren’t for my father’s paperwork and any potential secrets hidden amongst the pages, maybe I would’ve set the house to flame.

Perhaps I still will.

The limousine stops in front of a towering skyscraper, the cement pillars reaching farther than the vehicle’s window will allow me to see.

“We’re here.” Matthew opens the door and shuffles out, a protective hand over his stomach.

I follow on numb legs, taking in the marble lobby, the leather furniture, the opulence, all without letting it fully digest.

It isn’t until I’m in the hall of the twenty-ninth floor, watching movers haul boxes out of the penthouse to place beside the elevator, that confusion takes over.

“Are someone’s belongings still inside?” I ask.

“Apparently,” Matthew growls. “Everything was meant to be out an hour ago.”

Annoyance pinches his face as he does more aggressive typing into his cell, Tilly bouncing in my arms while she watches the movers.

I want to ask if this place is legitimate. If it was secured through professional channels and not by an alternate route paved by my brother’s brutal moniker. But I keep my mouth shut, knowing I’m too tired to protest even if underhanded tactics were used.

“Feel free to go inside,” a bulky man with a box states on his way to the elevator. “We’re done now.”

“All personal items have been removed?” Matthew raises a disapproving brow.

The guy nods. “They sure have.”

My brother stalks inside, but I wait in the hall as hollowness hits.

It feels like something is missing. Someone.

“Thinking about Bishop again?” Layla asks, quietly inching toward the door.

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