Page 19 of A Thin Line

I suspected that Whittier had made this offer so he could make me suffer. This was going to be punishment, and it was probably not just for the destruction of the simulation lab. This arrangement was also to pay for the supposed sins of my father. I would never say that out loud to my dad, but I had a feeling Whittier was going to make my life as unbearable as legally possible—and if that meant keeping me separated from my father, he’d do it. I just knew it. But I planned to communicate with my dad as much as I could. I would want to know how his health was, and Sinclair Whittier couldn’t stop that—even though I suspected he was a monster through and through.

“I guess you better go pack.”

Nodding, I gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll make it quick.”

And I did. I took the two small suitcases out of my closet along with a tote bag and my backpack and stuffed them full of shoes and clothes—and the makeup and toiletries off my dresser. I wasn’t going to pack any jewelry because I didn’t want anything remotely fun or festive. I would take what I was already wearing—a small pair of fake pearl earrings and a gold necklace with a heart pendant that my father had given me for graduation. I took the bottles of shampoo and conditioner out of the shower, replacing them with new ones from the hall closet, even though I was pretty sure my dad didn’t use conditioner. And I grabbed an unused bar of soap. I continued thinking of things I would need and, before I knew it, I’d run out of room.

There wouldn’t be space for any of my books.

I had several ebooks in an app on my phone and that would have to do. As I started wondering stupid things like if I’d have to wear these same clothes for an entire decade, I let out a long breath, trying to assure myself that everything would be okay.

Maybe it wouldn’t, but it was better than the alternative.

I talked my dad into having that cup of tea with me while we waited for Whittier to arrive. We sat at the small wooden table in our white and yellow kitchen, trying to forget about what was coming. My stomach was once again in knots as I pondered my unknown future. Although I was trying to go over instructions for what he’d need to do with me away, my mind was exploring what was to come. What all exactly would I have to do? I imagined I’d be a servant, cleaning his home day and night, keeping it spotless. I might have to cook as well, a skill I hadn’t mastered but could do decently—except I had no clue what wealthy people ate. I doubted Sinclair Whittier would want to eat mac and cheese.

And did he live in a penthouse apartment or a huge house? Would I have a room of my own where I could stay? Would it be like the one or two mansions in the old part of Winchester where there were servants’ quarters outside the family home? Or was it something I couldn’t even imagine?

The anxiety had my body tense—and I hoped the tea would calm my nausea.

There was a loud knock on the front door, making me nearly jump out of my skin. I hadn’t finished my tea, so I took another sip and poured the rest in the sink before putting the cup in the dishwasher. I reminded myself that my father knew how to use that appliance, even though I usually did the honors.

He would be okay with me gone. I had to keep telling myself that.

As I left the room to answer the door, dad said, “I’m right behind you. Don’t leave yet.”

“I won’t.”

Before I reached the door, the pounding started again. The impatience and force behind it told me it was Sinclair Whittier himself at our door and not someone doing his bidding.

Seeing his tall body and handsome face when I opened the door, my anger blazed once more. He was a monster—and he should appear as such in my eyes. I had no doubt he would become ugly to me, once I was regularly subjected to his cruelty. “Are you ready?” The way he asked it told me no would be an answer that would make his temper flare—and yet I was tempted to do it nonetheless.

Part of me suspected I was going to enjoy pissing him off as often as I could. My plan was to make him regret forcing me to do this.

It was stupid. Maybe I should have been grateful for the opportunity to bypass jail and restitution.

But I wasn’t.

Now that I’d spent time with my frail father, bringing him up to speed and having to say goodbye so quickly, I resented the hell out of this man and his whole family more than I ever had before.

“I just need to say goodbye to my father.”

Something flickered in his azure eyes. Could it actually be compassion—or a trace of understanding? Surely not. I already knew the Whittiers didn’t have that in them. Anyone with an ounce of empathy wouldn’t have subjected my father to the persecution he’d had to endure over the past two decades. Nodding to the luggage and other bags near the door, he asked, “Is that what you’re bringing?”

“Yes.”

Without another word, he bent over and picked up everything except for my backpack and purse, and he walked away, leaving the door open behind him. My father was in the living room by then. “Do you have your phone?”

“Yes.” It was still in my jacket pocket…the one thing I’d worn today, hoping it would make me look professional. It made me wonder if I’d be wearing a uniform in my new…endeavor. Job didn’t quite reflect the situation I was walking into.

“Keep me posted—and if anything bad happens, you let me know and I’ll get you out of there.”

I had no idea what to expect, much less what I would qualify as bad. It already felt that way—and I expected abuse, even if only verbal. I knew this was a way to punish both me and my father for what the Whittiers no doubt considered our past sins.

Still, I nodded an assurance to my dad. I didn’t need him worrying any more than he already was.

We embraced and I hugged my father longer than I had in ages…because I didn’t know when or if I’d ever be able to do it again. I hoped I was sharing with him some of my strength and health. I knew the man was resilient but I didn’t know how much more he could endure. “I love you, dad.”

“Love you too, princess.” When he looked at me, his arms still on my shoulders, he said, “I almost said I’d miss you but that doesn’t quite cover the loss.”

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