Page 247 of The Sinner: James

“And the yacht? Is that his property too?”

He tips his chin down and freezes in that position, waiting for me to utter more silly questions.

“Everything,” he murmurs to remove any doubt.

Sucking in a short breath, I square my shoulders.

“Okay, then. I’ll see you in a bit,” I mutter, wrestling with anger.

Straightening, he gives me another slow nod before I turn around and stride across the house.

Moments later, I enter my bedroom. My clothes are neatly packed, my traveling bags sitting on the side.

I pick up my phone.

To the first unanswered message, I add another one.

Me: Is that it?

Me: Did you and your friends just vanish into thin air?

I wait for a few moments. About ten seconds, and then I type another message.

Me: I guess... yes.

Me: You know what...?

I pause and ponder.

Me: Go fuck yourself, James Sexton. I don’t need you or your fucking friends.

I barely finish typing that out and hurl my phone across the room. It bounces off the wall and lands on the floor.

My fists sink into the fluffed-up pillows, my rage soaring.

I punch the hell out of them before burying my face in one of them and screaming as hard as I can, nearly suffocating myself.

Rushed footsteps echo across the house, making me jerk upright and shoot my gaze to the door.

Hastily, I run my hands through my hair when the housekeeper fills the doorway.

Concern sits on her face.

“Are you okay, Miss?”

Her eyes fly to the crown of my head.

Embarrassed, I rake my fingers through my hair again, taming a couple of stray strands.

“Yes,” I say, feigning a smile.

She shifts her gaze to the bed.

“Um... I’m sorry. I’ll fix it. I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” I say, flicking my hand dismissively.

The woman nods and walks away.

A long sigh of frustration leaves my lips as I crash back onto the bed.

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