Page 26 of Reign of a Billionaire
Before I could contemplate my reply, my laptop pinged, warning of a counter trace, and I closed out of the software, slamming my laptop shut. Goddammit, that was stupid. Morrelli’s reputation should have been enough for me.
I gritted my teeth, turning my face toward the window and gazing out into the dark night. A full moon glimmered over miles and miles of snow, and I inadvertently shuddered. Fuck, I’d had enough cold weather to last me a lifetime.
At the sight of the white landscape, a memory filtered in through my throbbing temples.
The castle—our prison—stood dark and ominous among the winter wonderland. I couldn’t help but compare it to an evil surrounded by innocence. Ivan and my mother, and what they were doing here, were evil. The rest of us were innocent.
Or something like that.
“Sun’s setting,” my sister grumbled. “We have to go back.”
Everything about this home unsettled us. I’d rather stay out here and freeze until the sun set over the horizon than go back inside. Out here, the shame could be temporarily forgotten.
My twin and I walked in silence, lost in our thoughts.
“Make sure you keep your distance from the basement,” I warned her.
Fear slithered through my veins. Ivan and his goons had been gawking at us for months. It was only a matter of time before they made a move.
“So you noticed it too,” she whispered, eyeing me. We looked identical aside from a slight variation in our eye color.
“I don’t like the way he’s looking at us.”
She knew who I meant. Ivan was a cruel pig. I couldn’t even believe Mother would marry someone like that. If that was what every marriage was like, I never wanted a part of it.
“Me neither,” she muttered. “It gives me the creeps.”
“Me too.”
We waded between the trees, the temperatures plummeting drastically. “What if he tries something?”
“He’s too scared of Mother,” I grunted, stomping on a pile of hard-packed snow to release some of my irritation. “And that fucking bodyguard will rip anyone apart who tries to get near us.” The first smile of the day passed between us. “Maybe we should stay out here,” she said pensively. “Build an igloo.”
I shuddered despite my warm coat, but my twin could be convincing, which was how we ended up attempting to build an igloo for the next hour, almost freezing to death.
A tear rolled down my face. I missed her so much. The talks we had. The hugs she gave me. She always had my back.
A throb started in my temples, and I pinched the bridge of my nose, hoping to get some relief.
My thoughts strayed back to the dark-eyed stranger from the restaurant whose burning eyes had caught me off guard. I had never experienced such loathing aimed at me, and that was saying a lot—I wasn’t exactly a likable person thanks to my blood relations.
Yet there was something about that mysterious man. He knew me. I didn’t know how, but I’d stake my life on it. I dug through my memory, trying to remember where I’d seen him, but the harder I tried, the more my head ached.
My eyes traveled aimlessly over the bedroom that’d witnessed my past, present, and possibly my future—however long it might be. Half-completed sketches lay across the bedspread—the faceless man plaguing my dreams, terrorized women haunting my waking hours, my twin. My chest tightened and my breaths turned shallow.
The despair. The shame. The disappointment. I’d been guilt-ridden over my sister’s death for eight years, unable to move on.The video of my twin’s torture had been tattooed into my brain cells, refusing to ease the pain.
I reached for the sketch of my sister’s face with trembling fingers.
“I wish it had been me, Lou,” I whispered, my voice shaking. I’d give anything to have her with me, to talk to her, to ask her questions. I loved her so much, and she loved me. The only person that ever did.
The grandfather clock chimed, telling me it was midnight. Once it stopped, the eerie silence of the house returned, sending chills up my spine. This place wasn’t a home; it was a prison. I’d grown up in this manor, blinded by the horrors these walls hid.
No matter how many times it was cleaned and polished, or how shiny the chandeliers and furniture were, there was no hiding the evil that lurked within these walls and hid in the basement.
A knot twisted in my gut, and soon a sob escaped my throat, followed by many more. Each one lined with loneliness and regret. I cried for my sister, for myself, and something else that seemed to be missing in my life.
Was it a mother’s love? My father’s?
