Page 42 of Deadly Secrets

I took my things and headed home, but one thing he said kept creeping into my mind.

I wrote to you every single month for a year.

Chapter 15. THE UGLY TRUTH

(Ander)

I hated myself for telling Sienna why I was furious with her. She didn’t deserve to know how painful it was that she never wrote back to me. She looked surprised when I mentioned the letters, but it could have just been an act.

It had to be, right?

We arrived at Smith’s Tailoring at 3 p.m., just like Claudia, Zayn’s mom and my future stepmother, had told us. We flew to New York from San Francisco on a red-eye flight, and although he asked me several times what was bothering me, I didn’t tell him anything. I knew I’d been in a horrible mood lately since I found out that Sienna was also studying at Stanford. I hated that she still had such power over my feelings.

I hated her.

Zayn entered the shop ahead of me. The bell on top of the door chimed, announcing our arrival. The shop was old, the smell of leather filling my nose. Behind the counter was an old lady who welcomed us with a warm smile.

“Welcome to Smith’s Tailoring. How may I assist you?” she asked.

“We have a three o’clock appointment for the Scotts’ wedding,” I replied.

Claudia had booked an appointment so we could try on the tuxedos we would wear to our parents’ wedding in March. Claudia and my father got engaged during a trip to St. Tropez this summer. They met at a charity event at the end of last year, and since then, they have become inseparable. She was a widow, and if it weren’t for the money she had inherited from her husband, I would have thought she was a gold digger because who could truly love my father?

I was already acquainted with Zayn because we had frequented the same circles in Rye. We had some friends in common back in high school, but we didn’t become friends until our parents started dating. I knew he was at Stanford because I had seen him at some sports events, but this year, we decided it made sense for us to share an apartment since we were about to become family.

I liked Zayn. We had spent a lot of time together since we now lived at Montgomery Hall; he’s a bit quiet, but that was a good thing. I would have hated sharing an apartment with someone who wouldn’t give me some space, but Zayn was alright. He did his thing, and I did mine. I must admit it hit me hard when I found out that Sienna was the girl he fucked in that restroom. Jealousy. A feeling that apparently took root the moment I knew Noah had also fucked her on his birthday.

The old lady looked at the book resting on the counter in front of her, searching for our names on the agenda.

“Oh yes. Mr. Scott and Mr. Siegel, please follow me. Your father is already in the back trying on his tuxedo.”

The lady walked us to the back of the store where a man, probably a hundred years old, was taking some measurements and deep in conversation with my father.

“Father,” I greeted him.

“Hello, Alexander. Hello, Zayn. Thanks for coming. Mr. Smith, are we done? I need to return to my office. I have an appointment scheduled with my lawyer in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Mr. Scott. We’re done. You can take the tuxedo off, and I’ll make the alterations as soon as possible. Let me check my appointments so I can book a new fitting for you. I’ll be back in a second.” Mr. Smith disappeared to the front of the shop, leaving the three of us alone for a few minutes.

I’d been thinking about what Sienna said the other day, that she’d also written to me a couple of times. Something in my gut told me my father knew about it, so I decided to take this trip as an opportunity to confront him face-to-face.

“Father, before you go…I need to ask you something.”

“Be quick. I need to leave in five minutes.” My dad and I rarely talked these days. He was always busy running his business, and most of the time when I was back in Rye, he was either traveling or avoiding me.

I wasn’t going to beat around the bush, so I got straight to the point.

“You remember I told you that Sienna Moore was studying at Stanford, right? She mentioned the other day that she wrote to me a couple of times when she moved to Switzerland, but I never received a letter…is she lying? Is there something I should know? Please tell me the truth.”

My father looked at me, his poker face not giving a hint of what was going on inside his head. He’d always been an excellent poker player, so I was never surprised that he was good at hiding what he thought about everything and everyone.

“No, she’s not lying.” There you go. “She did write to you. You should thank me for taking care of them. You kept writing to her every month, and it was pathetic to see a thirteen-year-old boy falling in love with the girl whose family had attempted to ruin ours and my career. Does that answer your question?”

Bile rose in my throat, my mouth tasted bitter, and my hands fisted at both sides of my body. Zayn stood next to me, and one of his hands gently grabbed my elbow, sensing that shit was about to hit the fan.

“You’re a piece of shit.” I was fucking fuming.

“Watch your tongue. I won’t tolerate your insolence, boy.”

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