Page 41 of Vengeful Secret

But I’ll be back to my normal life soon enough. As soon as we figure out what’s going on. As soon as we figure out who’s after me and why they’re after me.

Gray’s going to help. Everything’s going to be all right. I just have to stay calm, because panicking isn’t going to help matters. Especially since I have Ciara to take care of.

“How far is this place?” Ciara pipes up from the backseat in a mutter.

“Kind of far. You want some music?”

“Yeah,” she drawls, and I chuckle and hand her my phone.

Classic rock booms from the speakers, making the quiet drive a lot less quiet, but I don’t mind. Ciara dances along and sings, and I’m glad that my mother gave her this music taste instead of having to listen to incessant kid’s songs.

We arrive at Gray’s place just as dusk is starting to fall, and the sunset over the estate looks unbelievable. The pinks and purples stretch across the sky, illuminating the big house in the back.

“We’re staying here?” Ciara leans forward with her little heart-shaped mouth in an “o”.

“We are.” I chuckle. “I told you it was a big house.”

“This is ahugehouse, Mama! I hope the pool is just as big.” She bounces around in her booster seat.

The pool is huge, from what I could tell, and Ciara will have a ball playing in it. She’ll probably miss all the stress and drama, have a good time at the mansion.

For a moment, I wish I was still a child, devoid of all the problems and responsibilities that burden me now.

Nerves rush through me.

Gray is about to meet Ciara.

This could change everything—the way he feels about me, the plan to protect us…

I take a deep breath as I turn the car off, looking up at the mansion, and wonder what lies ahead.

12

GRAY

The beepingof Da’s heart monitor is actually slightly comforting as I watch him sleep. It makes me know he’s still alive, that his big heart is still pumping.

I watch him sleep, worried in the back of my head that one of these days, he’ll never wake up. But the doctors say he should be resting more than anything else, that his heart has grown weak from the damage, and it’ll take time to build it back up.

Marisol is cooking him a low-salt dinner every single night, which Da complains about, but this time, as she brings it in, he opens his eyes and cracks a smile.

“Pasta?” he asks hopefully.

“Yes, but no sausage,” she warns, and he groans.

“Beef?”

“Ground turkey.” She places the plate in front of him. “But it’s close enough, you won’t know the difference.”

“Then why even tell me?” he mumbles, but he’s smiling at her like she hung the moon.

“Don’t like to lie to you, Patrick.”

He hums and nods.

She leaves the room, and Da yawns, looking at me seriously.

“How are you, Gray?”

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