Chapter 11
LILY
I’ve spent the last two days avoiding Asher. I’m not sure how I did it, but I managed to dodge him, even while I knew he was trying to see more of me.
I reached out to Steve from Hedgwick Auto Repairs and asked if he was the one who hooked Asher up with the fights. Steve couldn’t lie. I told him it was fine, but if Asher gets seriously hurt, I’ll be coming for him.
When I came home a few nights ago to find that slag in my house with Asher, I’d just returned from spending two hours on a call with Barrett looking into info about the MacKenzie brothers and discussing the latest anonymous text message I’d received.
I usually take the calls at home, especially after the twins moved on campus, but since I didn’t know if Asher would be around, and I couldn’t risk him overhearing, I went to the warehouse instead.
I can’t explain my reaction when I came home that night to find a barely dressed girl pressed up close to Asher.
It shouldn’t have mattered. Asher and I aren’t a thing, and I’d told him to date other girls, yet seeing her touch him, the way she looked at him like she wanted to pull his dick out right there in my kitchen made me furious.
And jealous.
But mostly furious.
Then I made the mistake of letting my emotions rule me, and I basically told Asher I didn’t want him fucking her in my house.
He knew exactly what he was doing, though. He’d seemed bored when he looked at the girl, but when his eyes fell on me, well, it was much the same way that the girl looked at him.
It was a weak moment on my part, so avoiding Asher is the best option until I can get my shit together.
Saturdays in the salon are usually rushed since we close at one in the afternoon, but the wedding styles come together well, and the atmosphere is fun and light for most of the morning.
I should’ve known it would be short-lived.
Ducking out into the back room, I drink down a glass of water and check my phone, hoping Barrett has sent through some information on the MacKenzie brothers, but instead, I find another message from the anonymous number.
UNKNOWN: Lilian Mae Tipping is the name on your entry passport. Why did you lie about your name, Lily? Was it because a Marx wouldn’t be let into the country?
I’m beginning to think my cousin is right about this being a different person than the one sending me pictures.
Those pictures are basically calling me out on being the Crimson Angel. The text messages are calling me out on being a Marx.
No one should know that. I entered the country with a fake passport, and when I had to stay, I reached out to Barrett to help me secure more fake documents so I could change my identity and hide.
That’s why he’s the only one that’s known where I’ve been all this time, and his connections are solid, so there should be no way someone could have linked me to the Marx family… well, I guess we do live in the age of technology, so there are probably ways of doing that now.
Maybe facial rec?
Reading over the message again and deciding I’ve had enough of ignoring whoever this is, I decide to respond.
We can’t seem to track the number, so my only other option is trying to get information from whoever it is.
LILY: I’m sorry. I don’t know who that is. I think you have the wrong number.
Instantly, dots appear, and my heart flips in my chest as I wait for a response, and the moment it appears, the back and forth begins.
UNKNOWN: Tut. Tut, Lily. You can’t lie to me. I know everything about you and your family.
LILY: Not that I know what you’re talking about, but why don’t you enlighten me?
UNKNOWN: You sure you want that information put in a message? That’s kind of dangerous… unless you don’t care what happens to your family back in Australia.
LILY: What exactly do you want?
UNKNOWN: I thought that was obvious. I want your family to pay.
LILY: I don’t have anything to do with my family, so threatening me won’t work.
UNKNOWN: Who said anything about threatening you? I’m counting on your fallout with your family to work in my favour.
My brows shoot up at that, intriguing me even more. This person knows about my fallout, so do they want me to work with them?
LILY: How so?
UNKNOWN: Don’t you want Ewan Marx to pay for what he did to you? For what he’s still doing to your family?
LILY: And what exactly is he doing?
UNKNOWN: Controlling them. Their entire lives. Making them his puppets. He’s not a good man, Lily. He has so many secrets no one knows about. Secrets that could destroy the empire he’s built. But then again. So do you. And so does your own father.
It doesn’t surprise me in the least that Ewan is still controlling everything. My uncle Ewan is a dictator. He rules over our family with an iron fist, and our lives aren’t our own.
Well… mine is. At least I thought it was until this person started sending these messages.
A pang of guilt twists my gut, making me feel a little nauseous at the thought of my brothers, sisters, and cousins all still being used as Ewan’s minions.
But shit. They’re mostly all adults now.
If they want to leave, they can. I know I brought shame to the family by not returning, but I couldn’t be a part of a world that controls my basic human rights.
Like having children with whoever I want.
I’m not sure what this person wants from me, but because I’m quite happy living here away from all of that bullshit, I can’t actually help him.
LILY: I’m sorry. I can’t help you. Please don’t contact me again.
UNKNOWN: You can help me, but I’ll give you more time… or incentive to work with me. If you want any help with your ex-husband, instead of fleeing on the back of your lover's motorcycle, just give me a call and I’ll take care of him. For good.
I stiffen.
A choked gasp flies from my lips, and my stomach twists with dread.
This person knows about me and Asher. And they’ve obviously been following me if they witnessed the incident with Alexander the other day.
This isn't good.
Needing some fresh air, I duck out the rear door into the back alley to get a few minutes to myself, and another gasp escapes me as I come face to face with Tamara Jones-Bennett. Alexander’s new wife.
“Why won’t you just help Alexander and tell the twins about Melanie?” she snaps, her stuck up accent just as cringy as her husband’s.
Sucking in a deep breath, I hope to find some calm to deal with this psycho bitch, but it doesn’t come.
“Hi, Tamara.” I roll my eyes, leaning against the brick wall. “Nice to see you, too.”
“Oh, cut the crap, Lily. We don’t do pleasantries, and you know it.”
Tamara is wearing designer clothes as usual. A lemon skirt suit, accessorised by rings galore on her fingers, and an ivory Louis Vuitton bag hanging from her wrist.
The urge to dirty her up is a little too overwhelming.
“Do you really need to be here?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’ve already spoken with Alex about this and told him my answer.”
“It’s Alexander. You know he doesn’t like to be called Alex,” Tamara snaps, stepping too close for comfort, but I hide my discomfort with a smirk.
“Oh, I know.”
“You are insufferable. Honestly, what the hell did he ever see in you?”
“I’m guessing at the time when he cheated on you with me, he saw a nice, warm pussy.” I shrug and she gapes at me.
“Stop being ghastly.” She waves a dismissive hand at me, her bangles dangling with the movement. “Honestly, Lilian. You’re like a spoiled brat that never grew up.”
“Better than a stuck-up bitch that walks around with a pole stuck so far up her arse that—”
SLAP!
The sting of Tamara’s hand flares across my cheek as my head whips to the side, and I suck in a breath, trying to remain calm.
I can’t kill Tamara. I can’t kill Tamara.
“This is what’s going to happen,” she seethes like she has the right to demand anything of me. “You are going to tell those bratty sons of yours that they have a sister, and then you are going to tell them that they have to come over for Sunday dinner every week to spend time with her.”
My brows shoot up as I count backwards in my head, talking myself out of slitting her throat right here and now.
If only I had my knife.
“I’m not telling them shit,” I snap, and she stomps her foot. Like, actually stomps it.
“Why?! Why won’t you just tell them?”
“Because it’s not my story to tell,” I sneer, shifting sideways to step away from her and the wall, and she spins to follow me. “I told Alex to tell the twins two fucking years ago. It’s not my fault he’s too cowardly to do it.”
“What?” Tamara shakes her head. “Don’t lie, Lilian. Alexander said you begged him to keep it a secret from the boys.”
I roll my eyes. “And why would I do that? Looks like Alex has been lying to you to save his own arse. Get used to it, Tammy. It’s a natural talent of his. He plays the victim well.”
“It’s not Tammy. It’s Tamara. How many times do I have to remind you?”
I shrug. “A lot, I’m guessing.”
Tamara huffs. “Look, if you tell the twins, it will be easier for everyone. Them especially. They listen to you.”
I take a step forward, getting in Tamara’s face. “I’m not telling them. That’s Alex’s job. Tell him to stop being such a fucking coward.”
I curl my lips in her face, letting her see I’m not scared of her, and then I turn on my heel to go back inside.
“Melanie is sick,” Tamara rushes out, and the next thing I hear is her sniffles… as she cries.
Fuck.
I turn back with a single brow raised, and Tamara throws her arms around in the air, dramatically.
“If you don’t tell the boys about her, then she will die without ever knowing them.”
“What?”
“I just want her to know her brothers before it’s too late.” She starts sobbing.
Why the hell didn’t Alex say anything? Fucking hell, he should have led with that. Of course, I’d put aside my stubbornness to help out if I knew Melanie was sick. Dying.
Shit.
“Fine. I’ll tell them when they come home for Easter. But I won’t force them to meet her. That’s up to them.”