Page 46 of Vow of Vengeance

“What? Are you serious?” My hand goes to my forehead as I gape at the quilt, her words setting in. How does she even know I know about all that?

“My worry for your education and my desire for you to finish at the same school you started so close to graduation clouded my judgment.” My mom exhales a deep breath, then makes her confession. “I let it happen. I accepted the money. I paid your tuition.”

“I don’t understand…” My heart is in my throat. “How did this happen? Who stole the money?”

She waits too long and says, “I can’t say.”

“Mom, you have to tell me?—”

“I don’t know. Honestly.” I believe her. Still, she needs to help me figure this out. “Mom, you have to find out who did this. Can you—I don’t know, call the dating site? Then try to get in somehow? Maybe you can call the company and tell them you lost your login?”

“I’ll try.” She redirects the conversation. “We’ve been very fortunate. Instead of repercussions, the Bachmans have been so generous as to forgive us and grant you this trip to study abroad.”

I play it cool. “Is that what the dinner you were invited to was about?”

“Yes, the one at the Villa. We met with Liam Bachman that night. He said we didn’t have to tell you about what we had stolen, but I saw that look on your face in the kitchen the other morning when I told you tuition had been paid. You knew something was up, and you were right.”

“Yeah, that was weird. We went from losing the scholarship to paying in full.”

She sighs, and the sound makes me picture her sitting on her bed, a world away from me, shaking her head as she says, “I don’t like keeping things from you.”

So, at the dinner, my family was told a massive lie about my whereabouts and called out for their theft. They have no idea how lucky they were to make it out alive.

Lucky for whoever did steal that money, Haze had something he wanted in return.

I keep up the ruse, asking questions. “They told you they knew you took the money?”

“Yes, at the dinner. Liam was lovely. And the Villa—it’s gorgeous! You have to see it one day. We had appetizers and wine and a fabulous conversation, but then we all sat down for dinner, and Liam got this serious tone and dropped the bomb. He looked around the table and said that someone from our family had accessed Harrison Bachman’s bank account and withdrew cash.”

“He did?”

“Yes! My heart was racing, and I was afraid the police would come. After he forgave us, I thought I would sink into their Persian carpet right then and DIE! I wanted to run from theroom, but he moved on without asking questions. Liam said the tuition payment we made with Haze’s money would take care of your classes, and the Bachman family scholarship would pay off all costs of your living and travel, along with spending bonuses.”

I want to ask her why they would give me a trip if we stole from them. It doesn’t make sense—the powerful, dangerous Bachmans. If you steal from them, they will have their revenge. If Mom didn’t create that dating profile, catfish, and rob Haze, then who did?

I want to tell her the truth: Her daughter is being held captive and will be married off to make up for their theft. However, I don’t dare risk telling them the truth. They could do something foolish in retaliation, and I won’t do anything to endanger them.

“They said all was forgiven, and when they were looking into the internet address of the user as they traced the dating profile, they did a little snooping on you and saw that you were a scholarship student and perfect for their program. Figuring we must be desperate to steal from them, they turned the other cheek and picked you!”

“So that’s how I got this amazing opportunity.” My voice is flat.

Mom’s too happy with my traveling to pick up on my tone. “I can’t believe we’re in different time zones when we’ve never been in separate towns. What’s the difference? An hour?”

Crap. I have no idea. And there’s no Google search on this phone. “Umm…”

She moves on. “Let’s see, I’m checking your itinerary. Grandma posted it on the front of the fridge the second we got home from the Bachmans. You are currently in your hotel in London, right?”

I hate lying.

I’m not in a hotel room. I’m in the guest bedroom of a dangerous man who put a vibrating plug in my ass last night—a man who is going to make me his wife.

Because my mother let someone steal his money.

“London,” I say. “Mmm.”

She takes mymmmas a yes. Her voice is filled with excitement. “You’ll be sightseeing tomorrow with other students on the tour of Oxford. Is this your hotel room phone number? I know they said your cell may not work well over there.”

I laugh, knowing that a white lie about cell coverage was all it took for my tech-challenged family to accept that I’m not calling from my phone. I honestly have no idea how they’re running the television without me.

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