Page 86 of Illicit Heir

My heart races, and I sit up in bed, recalling the events of the prior evening. My gut drops.

Mum had already heard what happened when they dropped me off at her house. I didn't know the man's name who escorted me. I only knew he was an O'Connor. And I'll never forget her devastated look when she opened the door.

A muffled yet gruff voice fills the air. I force myself to get out of bed and stare down at the dressing gown Mum gave me to sleep in. I toss my hoodie over it, step outside the bedroom, then freeze.

Three boxes are piled near the door. A scary-looking man stands next to them. He asks, "What do ya want us to do with the furniture?"

Mum opens her mouth, then shuts it. She glares at him.

"What's in the boxes?" I question.

Mum spins. "Your personal items from your flat."

My insides quiver. I seethe, "Ya have no right. That pub's been in our family forever, and that's my home." I blink hard, willing myself not to cry but swipe at the tear that escapes my eye.

The man shows no remorse. In a neutral tone, he states, "I don't make the rules. Now, what do ya want us to do with the furniture? If ya don't tell us, we'll donate it."

Mum looks around, but her place is small. It's bigger than my flat, but there's no extra room. She has her own furniture. She stares at me helplessly and says, "Lauren, I don't know what to do."

I want to tell the man to get Devin on the phone, but I can't say that. So instead, I tell him, "Don't go anywhere. Hold on." I go into the bedroom and shut the door. I pick up my phone off the table, find Devin's number, and call him.

He doesn't answer.

I send a text.

Me: I need to talk to ya now.

Devin: I can't talk right now, angel, but ya shouldn't be texting me. It's too dangerous.

I swallow more of my pride.

Me: They cleaned out my flat. They want to know what to do with my furniture. Your thugs threatened to donate it. My mum doesn't have room in her place. Please, help me.

Minutes pass. My phone finally rings. I go to the window, and my entire body shakes.

Devin's voice comes out low, as if he's trying to stay quiet. "I can't talk long."

I beg, "This is all I have. Please, don't have them get rid of my stuff."

"I'll make sure it gets stored," he states.

I can't hold back my tears. I sob. "Don't let them take our pub, please. That's all my mum and I have."

The line goes quiet.

I sniffle, trying to control my outburst.

Devin says, "This isn't my decision, angel. I've tried."

"Then try harder," I snap and hang up. I toss the phone on the bed and grab the windowsill, looking out and taking deep breaths.

My phone rings again. I go over to it and pick it up, answering, "Are ya going to help me?"

"I'm sending a message to put your furniture in storage. Don't do anything stupid, Lauren," Devin warns.

I sarcastically laugh. "Now what could I possibly do that's stupid?"

He sighs. "I don't know, but don't." He hangs up.

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