Page 24 of Revelation (Love Isn't What It Seems 3)

Bidding starts at a million.

What kind of rubbish was this? This could not possibly be real. Nobody would pay a million for someone’s time. I was sure there was so much more to this than justtime.I scoffed in my head. This must have come here by accident. I checked who it was addressed to one more time and sure enough, it was my name and my address.

Dismissing it, I shifted to the second piece of mail and ripped it open. The moment I saw the first word, my heart in my throat, its beating stopped for a fraction of a second and then the fear pumped adrenaline through it, causing it to beat hard.

Increasing the amount.

Another hundred thousand.

One month.

Next year, two hundred thousand.

More money! Oh my God! This has never happened before. Usually, it is one letter per year, the same sum every year. And they doubled the amount. There was no assurance they wouldn’t ask for more. This has been weighing on my mind since this first started. There was nothing stopping them, whoever they were, from asking for more.

“Miss Cambridge, I’m here.” My head snapped up to see my driver waiting for me. Staring at the letter, I never even heard him approach. “I apologize for being late.”

I quickly got myself together and smiled, although there was really nothing to smile about.

“You are not late, Charles. This wasn’t even in the plan so thank you for accommodating me. Let me put my mail inside, and I’ll be right out.”

I rushed inside, dropped the stack of mail onto the marble countertop, and went back out to Charles who was waiting for me.

As he drove, I looked out the window, staring at the streets and London landmarks, passing us by in a blur. Another hundred thousand. How in the hell was I to come up with another hundred thousand? I started to wonder whether the smartest thing to do was to run. Disappear and run. But if I did that, I’d have to cut all connection to Liberty and Brandon. I just couldn’t do that. They were my only true family, although Liberty still didn’t know we were half-sisters. I had to be the worst person. This should have been something I told her a long time ago. I had kept the secret for twelve years. How could I even begin to ask her to forgive me?

I focused on the sights of London. This city had a population of over eight million people, yet I felt utterly alone. I grew up in this city; it was my hometown. But it didn’t feel like home. In fact, my whole life it felt like I was adrift. Belonging nowhere and with nobody. I knew each corner of this city like the back of my hand, but still felt like an outsider. I didn’t belong in any circles really, stuck somewhere between lower class and middle class during my childhood. When I was forced to visit with my grandparents, I didn’t belong in their circles either. Not that they took me to meet anyone. They were ashamed of me.

Mom and I lived in the rougher part of London. My grandparents provided for my education and clothing but refused to finance our living expenses. Their argument was that Mother was too eager to drink away her money and should invest her earnings into better housing. Basically, they provided for their dead son’s daughter but not the woman that he got pregnant. After the accident, I had to move in with them and most of our time was spent in Scotland. It wouldn’t have been bad if it was anyone else, but living with those two during those last two years of high school were the worst years of my life.

I couldn’t get away from them fast enough and far enough. Luckily when I told them of my interest to study in the States, they were eager to finance it. They wanted me far away from them too. Besides, they were generous enough that allowed me to set aside extra money for my blackmailer. My memory shifted back to the very first blackmail note I got.

“What the hell is this?” I muttered under my breath watching the note demanding I paid a hundred thousand within two weeks. Next month I was due to travel to the States, get away from these godforsaken people. The feeling of excitement and hope swelled in my chest each time I thought about it.

I’d search out my half-sister, show these idiots I was better than her, but then I’d leave them all behind. It would be a fresh start for me, away from all of them.

And now this note. I wouldn’t allow it to hinder my hope. It was probably someone’s idea of a joke. It was a bad joke!

I didn’t know what would follow after I refused. I never even imagined it. That picture, just thinking about it made bile rise in my throat.

“Here we are, Miss Cambridge,” Charles pulled me out of my thoughts.

I glanced around and noted we were on Canada Square at Canary Wharf, on the Isle of Dogs in London’s Docklands with the River Thames swaying around the area. I shouldn’t be surprised that Caldwell's publishing house was here. The Caldwells were richer than gods and everything they owned was in a prime location.

“Thanks, Charles. Don’t worry about waiting around. I might just take a cab later or hitch a ride with Livy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am absolutely sure. Thank you so much for accommodating me at the last minute.”

“Always.”

I exited the car and looked around for the little bistro, bread shop she mentioned where we’d have lunch. I was glad Livy got back to publishing, although in an unorthodox way. Alexander’s grandfather gifted them the publishing house and there was nobody better suited for it than Liberty. She was about a week into it, and I had no doubt she’d do an amazing job of it.

The moment I spotted the bistro, I strode towards it and grabbed us a seat. The place was very picturesque, with the fountain accenting the square.

Staring at the scene, I felt tired. Every time I visited my grandparents, I felt emotionally drained. I barely slept while there, and it would always take me a while to get myself into a good place, right frame of mind when I returned. Hence, the constant exhaustion.

Sometimes I wondered why they insisted I visit them.

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