Page 62 of Ruthless God

My finger hovers over the keyboard. The messages were sent yesterday. Does that mean he knows I’m with Claudius? Is that why he reached out?

How did you get my number?

What are you doing up so late, mama?

Crap. I do the math. In Dallas it’s only three in the morning.

Stripper, remember?

And yet when I stopped by the club they said you no longer worked there.

My pulse thrums in my neck.

Obsessed much?

You have no idea. And I believe I told you I was obsessed that night in the woods.

Then why wait five months to reach out?

I had things to take care of.

Such as?

Trying to kill your father.

My breath hitches, and my fingers spasm, the phone slipping from my grasp as if it burned me. It buzzes once on the bed beside me. I don’t look at it. I can’t.

Because the words are seared into my brain. Undeniable and irreversible. He just admitted to trying to kill my father. A wave of cold dread rolls through me, leaving my skin clammy and my pulse erratic. I need to move. Now. To let Claudius know what this monster just admitted to trying to kill my sperm donor, which means I am in danger.

I hurry to the closet, yanking open the doors and grabbing the first clothes I see. A pair of jeans, undergarments, and a t-shirt. As I turn, my gaze snags on the mirror. I pause. For just a moment. Because for the first time, I really see it.

The bump.

It’s still small, still easy to overlook, but it’s there. And soon? It won’t be easy to overlook. My breath hitches again, but for an entirely different reason. I press a hand over my stomach, as if that could make it disappear. As if that could buy me more time.

I won’t be able to hide this baby forever. But today? Today, I still can.

I throw on the clothes quickly, yanking the t-shirt down over my stomach, ignoring the way my fingers tremble slightly.

This isn’t the time to think.

It’s the time to move.

I pull my hair back, securing it with a tie before making my way to the door. I hesitate for a fraction of a second. Then, with a steadying breath, I open it. And holy shit. Opening the door feels like a religious experience. I inhale deeply, taking in all of it. The air, the freedom, all the space outside this goddamn room.

I step out, my body tense, half-expecting a sharp voice, a scolding, something to yank me back inside. I halfway expect Agnes to be right there, arms crossed, face twisted in that permanent expression of disapproval, ready to tear into me fordaring to leave. But she’s not. Thankfully. Because right now? I don’t think I can handle her or her bad attitude.

I exhale slowly, grounding myself. One step at a time. And the first? Showing Claudius the text messages.

Then it hits me. I have no idea where the hell I’m supposed to go. Claudius never gave me directions. A frustrated sigh escapes my lips as I glance down the dimly lit hallway, trying to make sense of the twists and turns I vaguely remember from my arrival. Nothing looks familiar. Great.

With a defeated groan, I turn back toward my room, ready to admit temporary defeat, only to come face-to-face with Millie.

“Oh my god!” I jump back, hand flying to my chest as my heart nearly explodes.

She winces, looking genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry, Ms. Blight.”

“You’ve got to stop sneaking up on people.”

---