Page 48 of Secrets Unveiled

“Don’t fucking touch her, Tim. I can get her.” Frankie’s voice comes from around the car. As the man drops his hands from my shoulders, I inhale a few deep breaths until the pain begins to subside a bit.

“Bring her inside,” Tim orders; my uncle gestures for me to follow the guy I know to be Mayor Harrison’s head of security. I follow slowly, taking in my surroundings and looking for any and all exits. Three men are positioned around the front of the home: one at the front door and the other two near the driveway. With the house sitting on the hill, there’s only one way to enter the estate, and that’s through the driveway. It would be fairly easy to see someone entering from quite a ways away. I can see the guards each have a pistol attached to their hips, and Tim has a small pistol tucked into the back of his pants.

I follow Tim into the open and elegant foyer, through a series of long hallways adorned with Mediterranean style decor and plush runner carpets that look to be brand new. We finally reach the end of the hallway that opens up into a massive conservatory-like room. The whole room is constructed with windows—the walls, the ceiling, everything. It allows me to see the night sky, which is speckled with bright, beautiful stars. I can’t help but admire it.

“Sit down.” Tim’s grumpy voice draws me from my trance. Annoyance quickly takes over my senses, and I give him a disgusted look.

“Watch yourself, girl.” I do as I’m told, taking a seat in one of the many plush white chairs that fill the room. Frankie walks up beside Tim and both of them start whispering so low I can’t hear. This only irritates me more.

“Why don’t you share with the room what you have to say, Frankie?” I know I’m playing with fire, but with the pain and the pure exhaustion, my attitude is harder to conceal. Both men look at me. Frankie gives me a look that screams “Shut the fuck up,” while Tim gives me a look that says “Your time is coming.” Like I said, I’d reached my limit of fucks to give the moment we left the hospital. Now, I’m just vexed. Pure rage and wrath course through my veins as I stare at my so-called uncle.

Without answering me, both men leave the room, leaving me alone with my hands still zip tied together, rubbing against my bandages, which inflames my road rash even more. There’s a door that leads to the back of the house from the conservatory. However, one of the men from the front of the house is now standing in front of it, looking out to the forest. That exit is a no go. I scan the room to see if there is anything I could use to free my hands or use as a weapon, but the room is fairly empty except for the six chairs that are placed sporadically throughout. There are two ways to enter or leave the room: one door at the far end of the room and another located at the opposite end. Large arches frame each opening, and I can’t help but admire the beauty of this home.

While searching the room, something catches my eye at the opposite entrance that we had entered previously. Not something, but someone. It’s a woman. A gorgeous older woman, with dark auburn hair, bright blue eyes that shine against the moon’s light, and her complexion is utterly flawless. She gestures for me to be quiet with a delicate finger pressed against her soft pink lips. She’s hiding from someone, no doubt Tim and Frankie, but then she lifts a piece of paper up with a black bold message written in smooth cursive.

They’re coming to rescue you. Stay calm. Everything will be okay.

I read and reread her message over and over again, hope suddenly restored with a simple message. I can’t help the small smile that touches my lips as I look back to the beautiful angel of a woman, and then it dawns on me.

“Gloria?” I whisper to her. She responds by nodding once and giving me a sympathetic smile that warms me from the inside out. No wonder my father liked this woman. I don’t even know her, but her presence alone makes me feel calm, serene, but most of all, safe, under the circumstances. I stare into her eyes for a long moment before she turns the paper over and starts writing another message on the back. Muffled noises fill the hallway where Frankie and Tim had disappeared to, and she writes faster. Finally, she caps her marker and turns her paper around for me to read.

I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.

I can’t help the tears that fill my eyes. I believe her. I’ve never met Gloria, or even knew of her existence, yet I believed with all my heart she would do anything and everything she could to protect me from her brother, my uncle, and possibly her own husband. As a single tear falls down my cheek, Gloria gives me a reassuring smile before the sound of footsteps reenter the room, and then she’s gone. Frankie, Tim, and Mayor Harrison are now in the room with me, staring down at me as if I’m a disease they don’t want to get too close to, for fear of contracting it.

“How much longer do you think it will be before he shows up?” Mayor Harrison says in his condescending, arrogant politician voice of his that makes my skin crawl.

“I’d assume not too much longer; they are insanely protective of her,” Frankie says, lifting his wrist and checking the time.

“Yeah, so protective they left her unguarded at the hospital, and that kid just let you take her. Some crew you got there, Frankie.” Tim cackles as he eyes me. I look at Frankie and can’t believe the man I’ve trusted my whole life is letting some hired security guard talk down about his own family. But he isn’t family, he’s a traitor, and I pray the guys show no mercy to him. Blood or not, he is no longer an uncle of mine.

“How long will it take after they’re both dead for the funds to hit the account?” Mayor Harrison asks, his question directed to Frankie. This time, he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling before he answers.

“It takes roughly three weeks after proof of death.” Putting his phone back in his pocket, I can’t help myself anymore. I need to know.

“Why are you doing this? What’s in it for you?” Tim’s and the mayor’s laughter fills the room while I wait impatiently for an answer. Is the answer that obvious, and I’m just too dumb to realize?

“The fact that her father never told her makes this whole situation that much more comical,” Harris says between laughs. “Go on, tell her, Frankie.” I turn my head to Frankie, the threat of tears stinging the back of my eyes, but I won’t let them fall. I won’t give them the satisfaction of watching me cry. Frankie clears his throat and takes a step closer towards me.

“Your father created trusts for you and your brother. A hefty 1.5 million dollars to each of his children the moment you turn twenty-eight years old. Once you reach that age, your trusts would be handed over for you to do as you wish.”

“So that’s it? It’s all about money to you?” I yell, unable to control my anger.

“NO! It’s not just about money, Sage! Your father left me nothing! Absolutely fucking nothing. His will stated that I was to be your legal guardian and take over the responsibility of raising you two. I was only twenty-eight years old! He gave me nothing but the burden of his kids. I was given nothing, not the house, no money, nothing to do with his estate, and he expected me to just raise both of you, out of the goodness of my heart!” I’ve never seen Frankie raise his voice like this, anger seeps out from every pore. Anger that has been built up and stored for so long, and he’s finally letting it go.

“Your father came to me before he died and expressed his concerns about the possibility of someone murdering him. He said he had a feeling he was being tailed and had a gut feeling something bad was going to happen.” Frankie laughs—an evil, sadistic sound I’ve never heard him make before; it makes the hairs on the back of my neck raise. “He was right because once I learned of his little affair, I told my two friends here. Lucky for me, they have connections that could make it look like an accident. Luther told me about his will and the trusts he had set up for you and Saxon. So, we made a plan, burn the house down with all three of you inside, and, poof, the money would be mine.”

“But Saxon wasn’t home that night,” I whisper.

“Imagine my anger when I learned that you were saved and Saxon wasn’t even at the fucking house!” I wince at the sound of Frankie’s outburst. My gut churns with the realization that my uncle killed my father and tried to kill me and Saxon too. Our own uncle wanted us all dead, for money. For a fucking paycheck. I can’t look my uncle in the eyes anymore. He looks like a monster, a demon, a wolf in sheep’s clothing—the person responsible for taking my father away from me. He’s a stranger I’ve never seen before, a man fueled by his own greed, who is willing to go to extensive measures to get what he wants.

“Why?” I still can’t comprehend all this. “Why did you hate Dad so much? Your own brother?” From the outside, my father and Frankie had a wonderful sibling relationship, always close and communicative. There was never any sign, to me at least, that either one hated the other. It was never even a thought in my mind that they had any animosity towards one another. It doesn’t make sense.

“Ah, yes, your father, my brother. The picture-perfect man he was. Loved by the club, by the citizens of this town, even winning the nickname ‘The Real Mayor of Golden Heights.’” I look to the real mayor at this comment. His face twists in annoyance and anger. “Your father was the golden boy of Golden Heights. Always the light of our mother’s eye, and when your grandfather, my father, handed over the club on a silver fucking plater to Luther before his own death, I knew where I stood in that family. As if he didn’t have another son standing beside him on his death bed. Like I was a shadow of his favorite son.” Frankie’s gaze drifts off somewhere outside of the room we all occupy. As if speaking of his past magically teleported him back in time.

“You always said you didn’t want to the responsibility of being in charge of the club. If you truly wanted more responsibility, you never did a damn thing to show it,” I say, my chin lifting high with defiance. “This is all to do with jealousy, then? You couldn’t bear the thought of others seeing you as a lesser man than my father? Do you know how childish that sounds, Frankie?”

“No, my dear. This isn’t about jealousy; this is about stepping into the shoes that were mine from the start. It wasn’t until I found out about his little affair that the wheels started turning in my head. I knew everything needed to look like an accident, especially if I wanted to gain the spot of president in the club. Which I deserve.

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