Page 13 of Jack's Devotion

It isn't wrong. But I never really let myself get close to anyone. Sure, I have friends in Los Angeles. But I had to lie to everyone to keep my identity hidden. And I never dated because…well, partly because of Jack. Some part of me felt like it was wrong to even try to date someone else when I spent so much time cyberstalking another man. That would have been selfish and cruel, and I couldn't be either of those things.

I wanted to choose, not out of fear but because I was seen.

Jack's the only one who has ever made me feel that way. The night he told me I was beautiful, for the first time, I felt seen. I wasn't the poor little rich girl who lost her mom. I wasn't the youngest millionaire in Silver Spoon Falls. I wasn't a future CEO and business-owner. I wasn't Gerald Laurent's kid. I was just Madison.

For that moment, I was just a girl being seen forme.

That's why I chose his pool house. I think part of me hoped that, if he found me out there, he wouldn't rat me out because he'd see me again, and he'd understand why I'm so righteously furious at being erased. And that is what my father is trying to do—erase me.

Sure, he hung up the posters. He said all the right things. But he never looked for me. He never wanted to find me. He swept right in and took over the company as if it were his. And nowhe wants to have me declared dead so it'll be his in truth. So I'm erased from the equation entirely.

To him, I'm just a temporary problem to solve, something standing between him and what he felt like he deserved. And I refuse to go quietly. I refuse to fade in silence. If he wants me out of the way, I intend to be a roadblock, taking up every inch of space I'm allowed to possess. I'm not a frightened little seventeen-year-old girl anymore, not sure how to use my voice to advocate for myself or to protect myself. I'll tell the whole damn world what he was planning to do and why I ran, and I'll keep saying it over and over until they hear me.

He doesn't get to erase me from my own company because I'm inconvenient. He doesn't get to undo my mom's will because he didn't get his way. Screw that. He owes her more than that. And he owes it to me too.

I picked Jack's house because, on some level, I wanted to see him again. I needed to know if all the years I spent crushing on him were just a fantasy I created to keep the loneliness at bay or if I'm drawn to him for a reason.

I guess I have my answer now, don't I?

He feels the same spark, the same pull. And he felt it back then, too. We were just…in the wrong place at the wrong time in life then. Those six weeks between right and wrong might as well have been six years standing between us.

In a way, I guess they were. We couldn't be right for each other back then. But…maybe we're exactly right now. And maybe we're exactly where we need to be now.

My father gets absolutely no credit for that, though. Hell will freeze over before I believe there's any sort of silver lining to what he did. There isn't. Whatever this is between Jack and I exists solely outside of what he did.

I pull up in the back of the parking lot, wedging the Taurus into a spot between a Ford and a Volvo, and then kill the engine.Bellange Parfumis still splashed across the entrance to the red brick building in elegant letters, though I doubt it will be for much longer if my father gets his way. I'm sure he'll tear down my mom's family name and replace it with his own—Laurent.

That doesn't even feel like my name anymore. Until last night with Jack, I hadn't used it in seven years. I've been Madison Bell since the day I disappeared. As far as the world knows, my mom died, my father is a deadbeat, and I skipped town to escape my sad little life. It's close to the truth without being too close. I'm just a face in an endless sea of faces telling a similar story.

I settle back in the seat to watch the building, certain my father will arrive soon—late, as usual. Growling and shouting at my employees, also as usual.

God, I never thought I'd hate another human being the way I hate him. I guess that's what happens when you spend most of a year living in your car, afraid you're going to be killed, though. You grow stronger. You learn you can face anything. And the monsters you were once so afraid of? Well, fear hardens. It turns bitter and corrosive.

I want to put it down and let it go. But not yet. Not until I'm sure he won't ever get what he wants. That's what it'll take to ensure I sleep at night. If that means I'm even a tiny bit like him, then I guess I'll have to accept that label. But I have to do this, if not for myself, then for my mom.

He made her life just as miserable as he made mine. While she was dying, he was cheating. While she was sick, he was looking for ways to take her company. And while I was grieving, he was gloating.

Money doesn't make people selfish. It makes them the worst possible versions of themselves. Just look around. Even in this town, where people can have anything and dreams come true every single day, there are awful people.

The happier the story, the darker the shadows. I learned that out in the world, too. People always want what others have, and success always comes with a price. No one who "made it" ever did it without tears and sweat and sleepless nights. They fought through things, lost things, or ran from things to get where they were going. And people like my dad were waiting in the shadows the whole time, waiting to trip them up and take what wasn't theirs to take.

Those people rarely win, though. Because the world sees them for who they are. You can't paint a frog and call it a prince. Eventually, it croaks. It's what frogs do.

Not even fifteen minutes after I park, my father pulls up in his luxury SUV, parking in his designated spot right beside the doors. He hops out, dressed in an expensive designer suit, his hair carefully gelled. The fake smile on his face is an almost permanent fixture. People think he's handsome. With dark hair only just beginning to gray and his severe features, I suppose maybe he is. He's fit and healthy. Women have always flirted with him, which is honestly disgusting. But there's this…darkness in his aura. It really sucks the life out of him.

"Now, it's my turn," I murmur, reaching for the burner phone on the passenger seat. I dial his number, watching as he pats his pockets, searching for his phone.

"Laurent," he snaps once he's got it to his ear.

His voice makes my skin crawl.

"Daddy," I say in a sing-song voice like I did when I was a little girl, back before I realized he was a psycho. I idolized him when I was little, thought he hung the moon. And then I grew up and realized he was only nice to me because he wanted something from me. He needed me to pick him over my mom if she ever left him. I was his insurance policy, his guarantee that she never served him divorce papers the way he deserved.

Watching the color drain from his face is ridiculously satisfying.

"W-who is this?" he growls, his voice shaking.

"It's me, your favorite girl. Don't you remember me?"

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