Page 96 of Beneath the Surface

“Life never is, Lily. What else are you gonna do? Move place to place, hopin’ you can somehow make it work on your own?”

The muscles in my jaw strain. “It’s worked for me so far.”

“Aren’t you tired of runnin’ yet? Come home. Let the people who love youhelpyou.”

Fear swirls in my gut, the urge to shut it down raging through me. But then I hear a shriek from the living room, and peer around the corner, the words stalling on the back of my tongue. My baby boy’s smile is blinding, but it’s my brother who steals my breath. He’s laughing, his eyes gazing at my son like he’s the greatest gift in the world.

My chest pulls tight.

My baby deserves a family.

I ignore the sick feeling whipping through my middle, my fingers clenching the phone so tight I’m afraid it may break. “Okay.” I nod. “Guess I’m going home.”

44

Mason

It’s been two weeks and I’ve had no way to check and make sure that Lily is safe. I’ve texted Chase, but so far, they’ve gone completely unanswered. It makes my insides tighten whenever I focus on the “what-ifs”, and right now, I can’t afford the distraction, so I remind myself the only way to ensure her safety for good is to make sure my father can’t reach her.

I’ve been a good little lapdog, but ever since we came back to the estate in Oregon, they’ve been keeping me private, dropping tidbits into the press slowly, making people salivate with the questions.What’s going on with Thomas Wells? Why did he postpone his campaign trail? What could possibly be more important?

The longer I stay here, stowed away like a prisoner, the more I come to terms with the fact that I’ve never really been hidden. They chose to let me live out my life, allowed me the illusion of believing that I was successful. But now I know they’ve just been waiting for the opportune moment to strike. For the moment when I could be used as a tool. But I’ll bide my time, even if I have to do it lying in my childhood room, the memories of my misery echoing off the walls. They may have kept track of my physical whereabouts, but they don’t know my mind. They can’t know that I spent years of my time, forging my mental state into a fortress. One that they can never penetrate. One they can never win against.

“He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious.”

But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t going a little stir crazy. It’s been two weeks and I still haven’t seen my mother. I haven’t spoken to Olivia. My only points of contact have been my uncle Frank and my father, two pieces of a whole.

Their plan is to play it like I ran away, a troubled teen who crumbled under the pressure of being a Wells. Afraid of marrying so young, and what it meant to live in the shadow of my father.

They’re not wrong. On any of those facts. They just left out the part that my father went behind my back and destroyed my chance at happiness. I might not have anything to help bring my father down yet, but I’ll wait patiently in the wings, even if it takes years. Even if he makes it to that seat in the White House. I’ll expose him for what he is.

I make my way downstairs to get a glass of water. It’s been years since I’ve been here, yet everything comes back to me quickly. Absolutelynothinghas changed, even my room is the same as it was the night I left. Walking into the kitchen, I stop short at the sight of my mother, her hands gripping the edge of the island as she tosses back a pill with a glass of wine.

Typical.

Like I said, nothing around here has changed.

I clear my throat and she gasps, turning around. My heart clenches at seeing her, so polished and perfect, looking every bit the Stepford wife, and for just a moment, I’m thrown into the past. To a time when I craved her love and was always left wanting.

Thinking about how shitty my mother is makes me think of Lily again, and all the ways she thrives in the role. My stomach flips at the thought of her, grief rising up and sticking to my insides.

My mother’s eyes widen, something akin to sadness flickering in her gaze before she smooths out her disposition. She walks over to me, her hand reaching up to cup my face. I let her, my jaw muscle jumping underneath her frail palm. She shakes slightly, her skin cold and clammy, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think it was from seeing me again. But I know it’s the Sunday morning cocktail inside of her that makes her tremble, not the sight of her long-lost son.

“Alexander,” she whispers. “He said you were back, but I—”

She cuts off her words when my father’s voice floats down the hall and he walks in, followed closely behind by his bitch, Frank.

And then, in walks Olivia.

It’s the first time I’ve seen her since the gas station, and the anger I felt for her then is tenfold, my rage grasping onto her, needing somewhere to place the blame.

She looks away, glancing down at the ground.

“Oh, good, you’re here already,” my father says. “We have media training today. All of us together, so we can answer questions appropriately when asked.” He walks over and smacks me on the back, a Cheshire grin creeping over his face. “Next week is the big day, are you ready?”

I force a smile, biting back the smart-ass retort that’s laying thick on my tongue. Better for him to think I’m agreeable. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

His grin stays painted on his face as he walks over and kisses my mother on the cheek. My eyes glide back to Olivia as she glances around the room, actively avoiding my stare. Fire races down my spine. Officially, she has the role of my father’s “personal assistant.” Betrayal runs hot, knowing that after everything, she stuck around. Accepted ajoboffer from him like he didn’t ruin fucking everything.

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