Page 41 of Crazy Rich Monsters (Necessary Evils 1)

ChapterTwenty-Two

ADDISON

There are two sides to every story, but when it comes to the truth of the matter, there are three sides to the story about the death of Carter Calloway.

There’s my side, the official story. It’s composed of the lies I’ve told that anyone with a brain doesn’t believe. There’s Emily’s side, which is pretty damn similar to mine, but as the years go by, the differences in our stories further erode. Whether that’s because one of our memories is faulty or because we’re just tired of lying, I can’t be certain.

And then there’s the truth, the whole truth and nothing but it. It’s damning to everyone involved, including the dead among us. Everyone has secrets though. Brutal secrets relegated to the shadows. Secrets that threaten to shatter the foundations of every life they touch like a deathly virus that infects the very air we breathe.

I’m getting closer to the truth and that terrifies me because it just might mean rethinking everything I ever believed about the only person I’ve ever truly loved. In my eyes, my father was a Saint. He could do no wrong. If it’s true that he entangled himself with a wretched woman like Carole Calloway, then I’ll be forced to reach the conclusion that he’s just as bad as the rest of them.

That’ll break my heart. It might even kill me.

And yet, I continue to dig.

The Calloway family has enough money to build a literal wall around the entirety of their property. They have the means to keep any unwanted visitors out. All that security goes straight out the window when you are invited into their home while they are out of town.

I know better than to accept an invite from Nick but like I said, I have to know the truth, even if it kills me. I’m smart enough to know that there are security cameras all around the property. I’m smart enough to know that the matriarch and patriarch of the family will eventually know I was here. Hopefully, it’ll be a little too late and I’ll have what I’m searching for before then.

I knock on the door once before realizing there’s a doorbell to the right. I press it once and then wait patiently. Two seconds later, I’m tired of being patient and hold my finger on the button.

Finally, I reach for the door and to my surprise, it’s unlocked. I do what any logical girl would do in my position and quickly step inside, shifting the weight of my body onto the tip of my toes. I briefly consider calling out for Nick, to let him know I’m here. But then my mind drifts elsewhere. Why in the hell would I give up a golden opportunity to snoop around the Calloway manor?

I pass over the checkered marbled floor and pass the grand staircase to my right. Just up ahead, built underneath the staircase on the right side of the foyer, is the home office. I check both ways, making sure nobody is around as I step into the office, gently closing the door behind me.

It’s dark inside, the room lit by only a small, pale-yellow light situated on the clean and empty desk beside the computer. Each step is careful and calculated to make the least amount of noise against the hard surface of the floor beneath me. I take a seat in the leather office chair behind the desk. Immediately, I’m grossed out at the thought that Nick’s father has potentially banged numerous secretaries on this very desk. What is it with rich men and fucking on office furniture anyway?

The computer turns on with a flick of my hand over the mouse, but as expected, there’s a password required for access, and I have no idea where to begin. I reach for a tape dispenser and turn it on its head in hopes that the password is scrawled across the bottom. Obviously, it’s not.

There are three drawers etched into the desk on each side. The first is filled with various office supplies. The last two on the left side are filled with paperwork that’s filed away in meticulous and precise categories. None of which is interesting enough to spend time searching through, save the tax return files but I’m not looking to take the Calloways down through tax fraud, though I’m sure it’s one of many sins.

I reach for the top drawer on the right, but it doesn’t budge. There’s no lock in sight, so I try again. The drawer jolts but still doesn’t open. I grit my teeth and pull outward, forcing the drawer from the stuck position and breaking it off the rails in the process. The drawer comes out lopsided, spilling the contents onto the floor.

“Shit.” A collection of floppy discs, of various colors, clatters to the ground along with a stack of discs that are locked inside blue and red colored cases. I drop onto my knees and begin to sort through them. The very outdated floppy discs are labeled by numbers only, while the only-somewhat outdated discs are labeled with names: Cassie, Delilah, Carole, Nick, Carter, Emily, and two others. It’s the last two that send a chill down my spine–a disc each for my mother and me. “What the fuck?”

I collect the discs and stuff them into my purse while attempting to put the floppy discs back into a neat pile before shoving the drawer back into the desk. I have every intention of putting the other discs back, but first, I need to try to find another computer in the house that isn’t password protected to see what exactly is on these fucking files. Worst case scenario, the Calloways will be out of town for at least a week which buys me enough time to take them out of the house and find a way to sneak them back in before anyone realizes they are gone.

I sneak out of the office as quietly as I sneaked inside and begin to make my way up the stairs. Once I reach the landing, I take notice of the banister. No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the memory of pushing Emily over the ledge. It’s a harrowing reminder of the way this place can mess with my mind. It’s not just the Hamptons either. The essence of this house alone is enough to send me into a downward spiral. It’s the place I first lost my innocence, and sometimes I think I very well just might die in this house. It’d be karma. Hell, maybe it’d even be the ghost of Carter that will take my life, kicking and screaming all the way down to the deepest abyss of hell.

The first room on the right looks to be a bedroom. The door is cracked open, almost inviting me inside to snoop and I’m not the type of girl to turn down that kind of invitation. I cock my head over my shoulder before stepping inside. The room feels as cold as it looks. There’s a mess of clothes buried in a hamper and a hoodie lying flat on the bed, and yet it still doesn’t look lived in.

I’m making an educated guess that this is Nick’s room. There’s no chance in hell I’m going to find any clues about the relationship between my father and Carole Calloway in this room, but there’s a laptop sitting wide open on a desk parked next to the closet.

I hover over the desk, checking both sides for a disc drive but have no luck. Technology can really kiss my ass at this point. Then the screen pops on and to my amazement, it’s not locked. I glide down into the chair behind me and begin snooping through the computer.

The first browser tab is a simple search query for my name. As expected, the first few pages of results are about Carter. In the same window, there are another dozen or so tabs, each pertaining to me. He has my old social media accounts open and a news article from back in the day that has a photo of Paige and me at graduation. Then there’s Paige’s social media page with a button that saysFriend Request Sent.The next page shows a search query for her place of work, the hospital.

What the hell does he want with Paige? I know I should warn her that he’s been looking into her, but I can’t stop myself from digging deeper into his computer. There’s another window open with an assortment of porn. The tabs start off vanilla enough but quickly devolve into fetishes such as bondage. I press the space bar to begin playing a video of a woman that’s handcuffed to the bed. She has dark hair and fucking shit, she looks just like me. A muscular man climbs onto the bed behind her and smacks her hard on the ass. She lets out a yelp, but it’s muffled by a makeshift gag made from a bandana.

Disturbed and beyond the point of being freaked out, I continue to snoop. The last tab at the bottom is for the Tor browser. I don’t know much about it, but I do know that it’s the primary gateway to the deep web. The browser opens to a forum post on a gnarly looking site that appears as if it’s a relic from the nineties. The forum post that heads the page reads:

I’m writing this from an anonymous account for obvious reasons. I need legal advice. Hypothetically speaking, what would be the legal repercussions for an act of arson that burned down a house and almost killed someone inside of it?

I didn’t do it. Someone else that I love did it and I’m trying to protect them. I would hate to see their life ruined for an act of revenge. I’m not saying they are justified in what they did, but the ‘victim’ in this scenario somehow got away with a brutal act of violence against someone in my family. They should be in prison but they walk the streets free and clear, continuing to terrorize my family.

How can I protect my sister from going to prison?

“Holy shit.” I bury my face in my hands, unable to grasp the reality of the situation. Emily is a lot of things, but why would she ever try to kill my mother and me? The answer can appear to be extremely obvious, considering what happened to her brother, but she was there for that. She knows how it happened and why. It doesn’t make sense. “What are you doing, Emily?”

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