Page 4 of Ashes of Saints

But he didn’t take me to baseball games.

Or the zoo.

There were no museum visits or cruises on the Hudson River.

My memories haunt my dreams, but I do remember one thing very clearly. A little girl with strawberry-blond hair and bright green eyes.

Aurora.

She was at least five or six years younger than me and wasn’t allowed in the area of the house where the parties took place.

Parties.

When she’d appear in the doorway, her mother, Mary-Anne, would lose her mind. My father would berate her for letting the girl out of her room.

I immediately despised her.

Why was this little emerald-eyed girl special?

Why did he not protect me with the same passion and care?

It wasn’t until I was older that I wondered if he was her father. I’d never seen David and Mary-Anne intimate—they both clearly liked fucking little kids instead.

So, I was left with this vision of Aurora as this saint that they saw had more worth than me, while I was told to pull my dick out or bend over.

One night, Dad raced to the door, picked her up in his arms, and closed the door behind him.

Like he should have done for me.

Taken me away from the horror.

He never did.

I will never understand why. We had money. He had enough power for a man who had married into my mother’s family. Why did he do it?

I’ll never know.

My father had died of prostate cancer before I left school, but now I have Aurora, and the doors to the information I seek are once again open.

I hope he’s rolling in his grave, freaking the hell out at what I’m about to uncover. Because if there is evidence and a way to discredit his name and destroy anyone else involved, I will do it.

Including Aurora.

She was unaware, as a young woman, of what was happening in the adult’s room. That doesn’t mean she isn’t aware now. Back then, I watched her take in, with those huge green eyes, all the depravity while confusion and horror crossed her face.

Did I feel bad? No.

Not when Mary-Anne or my father would soon scoop her up and whisk her away to safety.

While I was trapped in hell.

I simply did, and still do, hate her.

I’ve never stopped thinking about Aurora and why the green-eyed saint was protected and I wasn’t.

Over the years, I’ve searched for her, wondering if she was my half sister or being groomed to take over the organization from behind the scenes. It could’ve happened while I was at boarding school.

It’s taken me almost ten years, but now I’ve found her.

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