Page 121 of Oliver

Gasping, I touch my cheek as she hisses, “You may be here, little bitch, but this is my house, and I will not sit here and pretend nothing happened.”

Wiping my face, I stand and say, “Judge me all you want but your sick, twisted husband preyed on me and while I admit what I did was wrong, it never would have happened if he hadn’t wanted it to. Live with that, you psycho bitch.”

I’m halfway to the threshold, my stomach churning at her cruelty when she says, “Is that what your sister said too?”

How the fuck does she know all this? Apparently, Mr. G wasn’t as sneaky as he thought.

Rubbing my aching head, I say, tiredly, “I don’t know.”

“No? Well let me tell you, that little cunt fucked my husband in my own bed, so I’m pretty sure she wasn’t fucking sorry. And now they think my son killed her? Not fucking possible.”

“My sister was a teenager. Your husband was a grown ass man,” I growl, spinning on my heel.

“And she seduced him! Your sister died because she was a dirty little whore!"

I see red, literally. It falls over my eyes like a veil while my blood pulses so loudly I can hear it in my eardrums. I’m about to go apeshit as everything coalesces into a single point of fact.

My sister is dead. She’s never coming back.

Pushing aside the ache, I round the table and she backs up. I assume it’s the gleam in my eye that has her running scared.

Good. She should be because I will not listen to this bitch malign my sister.

Maybe it’s a good thing. I’ll never know but we both pause when a knock sounds at the door.

Her brows crinkle and she hisses, “Stay here.”

I’m given no time to respond as she stalks away and with a sigh, I pick up the chair she knocked over. It must be shock but instead fleeing to fucking anywhere, I grab the plates from the table. What the hell was that about?

Oliver

Interesting story, my ass. This isn’t something you read a kid before they go to bed, that’s for sure.

“So, you know who it is?” I’m not even sure who I’m asking about. The girl who disappeared never to be found or the man masquerading under her name.

“You have to understand, Oliver. If you don’t, you’ll never see the truth. You’re blind right now, but you’ll see.”

“See what? I’m tired of your fucking riddles,” I say, and he merely shrugs.

“You want the truth? You’ll shut the fuck up and listen.”

Leaning back, I cross my arms, annoyed I’m playing his little game. But I’m desperate and not stupid enough to pass up an opportunity to get answers.

“Good,” he says, and I ignore his smile. Gloating bastard.

“Now, where do I begin?”

When I raise my brow, he chuckles. “Very well. This all starts with a girl…”

Penny

Why did Oliver bring me here? I knew this was a mistake and I may not like the woman but even I know it was sick to ask her to house me especially now that I know she knows everything.

Since I have zero desire to go out there and continue this conversation, I start putting shit away, uncaring if it ends up in the wrong place.

Sorry, not fucking sorry.

I’m halfway through clearing the mess and I open what I presume to be a junk drawer to find a notepad of pink paper sitting on top.

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