Page 10 of A Sinner's Truth

“I could really use a chat right now, Shelli,” I say as I bring the bottle to my mouth and swallow as much as I can take in one gulp.

The bottle is half-empty when she finally makes an appearance. “What are you doing, Santo?”

It’s the way she says my name that has me doubting it’s really her. She only called me Santo when I was in trouble or pissed her off somehow. Which honestly wasn’t often. Maybe she’s mad at me for not saving her. I sure as fuck am mad at myself.

“Looking for you,” I tell her.

“You found me,” she says, sitting down in front of me.

“Why?” I ask her the same thing I ask every time. “Why did you leave?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she repeats the same answer.

“I’m not talking about you dying, Shelli. When did you stop loving me?” The question has been playing on my mind. Memories of the months leading up to the wedding have started to show things in a different light. I didn’t see it at the time, but I’m beginning to.

Shelli wasn’t nervous about the wedding. It was something else. Whatever this secret is she wants me to dig up.

“I never stopped loving you,” she says.

“Bullshit. What’s the secret? What were you keeping from me?”

“I can’t tell you that. You need to find it, Santo. It will give you the truth,” she tells me.

“What am I looking for? How can I find something when I don’t even know what the fuck I’m looking for, Shelli?” I yell.The bottle hits the monument, and glass shatters before littering the ground. The remnants of golden liquid stain the white stone.

I turn back to look at her, and she’s gone.

“Fuck,” I curse out under my breath. My head drops into my hands and I let the tears fall. It’s the only time I let myself be vulnerable. In the dark. Alone.

My lungs struggle to draw in air. I feel like I’m drowning. I can’t keep fucking doing this, but I don’t have a choice. She won’t tell me what to look for. Whatever she was hiding, maybe it’s best that it fucking stays hidden.

Chapter Six

Present day

Eight months. That’s how long I’ve been playing the role of the dutiful daughter. It hasn’t been all bad though. Turns out, I like working at Swan Enterprises. Enough to accept the full-time position my father offered me after my summer internship came to an end.

Who would have thought? The idea of taking over this company and running it as my own isn’t as bad as it once was.

That’s the one good thing I’ve gained from working here. My mission to find something to use to get me out of the marriage deal my father made? Well, that’s a complete failure. I’ve been burying my head in denial, especially the last few months with wedding preparations happening all around me.

I refused to partake in them. It doesn’t matter what colour the flowers are. They might as well be dead. I’m down to my last seven days of freedom as I know it. I really need a new plan.

I could slip something into his drink at the rehearsal dinner. How hard is it to get your hands on poison anyway? There can’t be a wedding if the groom is dead. But then again, I really do not fancy wearing jail greens for the rest of my life. I have one more year until I can have my trust, until I can get my mother’s necklace and be done with the charade of being the perfect Swan princess.

If I had aget out of jail freecard, I’d do it. But unfortunately, that’s just a game and not an option in real life. I’ve thought about robbing the bank that houses my father’s safe deposit boxes. I could get my mother’s necklace and just disappear. But again, if I got caught—which honestly chances are I probably would because I’m not a criminal mastermind—I’d be rocking a green tracksuit for God only knows how long.

One year. How bad can one year of marriage be? If it were anyone else other than Oliver I could probably cope, but the idea of being trapped in a house with him… In a bed with him…

My entire body shivers at the thought.

Maybe that plan of already being marriedwillwork. It can’t be Drew, though. My father would have it annulled within a minute.

I walk into my best friend’s apartment, finding him sprawled out on the sofa with a PlayStation remote in his hand. “Get up.We’re going out.” I position myself right in front of his screen, blocking his view.

“Fuck, Aria, you just got me killed,” Drew grumbles before throwing the controller down on the table. “What do you mean we’re going out? Where are we going?”

“You were right. I need a husband who isn’t Oliver Densper. We’re going to go find me one.” I smile at him. I feel like this might actually be the best plan I’ve ever had.

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