8. Emmett
CHAPTER 8
Emmett
“ C all your fucking sister.”
There’s a bit of static on the other line but I know the fucker heard me, but he stays silent.
I don’t bother filling the silence. After all, this is the fucking norm whenever this asshole calls.
Long stretches of silence…but it’s not awkward and neither of us gives a damn.
“Really?” George says in a clipped tone. “That’s the first thing you say the first time I call you after months of radio silence?”
“Has it been that long?” I murmur, swiping to the next page of the document on the iPad in my hand. “Never noticed.”
A low curse echoes over the line, but I don’t care. My mind has been racing for the past forty-five minutes.
Kai is driving me to the one place I fucking wish I could set fire to and watch as it all burns down to ash.
It’s raining as we drive up the side of the hills of the Amalfi Coast, Southern Italy. Not the overly romanticized touristy part, but the side that’s barely known.
Grandfather’s huge- ass estate seems to be surrounded by homes of unsuspecting local families that go on about their lives every day, unaware of the danger in their vicinity.
And tonight, with all the wolves, snakes of various kinds, and disgusting rats all hungry for my blood, my presence is required.
“How did you even know it’s me?” George demands.
“Don’t waste my seconds by asking ridiculous questions.”
Silence.
“How is she?” George mutters in a low tone, as if he’s hiding. “And Knight. How’s my nephew?”
“Like I said, call your sister,” I murmur, this time completely engrossed in the full-blown image on the iPad. “As much as basic human decency is your kryptonite, picking up the phone to call your own twin is not that damn hard.”
A picture of Angel.
I drum my fingers against the iPad and stare at the smiling face and dead eyes practically screaming and begging for affection.
I hate that.
I hate how I can clearly identify the emotions and thoughts this girl has just from a glance.
Sometimes ignorance really is bliss, because once you’re aware….
Below her picture is the report on everything she’s been up to for the past few years.
Three and a half years ago, after an intense medical emergency, I decided to give her a pass for all her past indiscretions.
I told myself that I was going to let her go. After all, a lost mind is a headache to deal with.
She’s a fucking headache on her own without the crap she’s put me through.
But now with what Freddy-slash-Jonny—whatever his damn name is—said tonight… it changes the entire game.
Angel remembers something about my mother!
How?
I’m sure Angel doesn’t know what my mother looks like. She’s never even seen a picture of my mother on the days she was snooping around my mansion each time she came over.
Angel knows me, she knows I’ve been looking for my mother, and she can’t lie for shit…so if she knows something, why hasn’t she said anything all these years?
Granted, that bastard might’ve been lying but only a few people, not more than five, know of Angel’s medical history.
If she remembers and never told me…and still has the nerve to look me in the eye and act dumb about it…
According to this report, the girl has no social life whatsoever. She lives in a world of test papers, grades, textbooks, medical journals, and everything that screams ‘trying too hard’.
And something I thought she dropped years ago but apparently, she’s been very active…and daring.
“Are you even listening to me?” the impatient voice on the line demands.
“No,” I snap back.
“You could’ve lied.”
“I don’t have time for that and I sure as hell don’t have time for your nonsense. Call your sister.”
“It’s easier said than done, asshole!” George growls. “Do you think King would let me have free reign just like that?”
“And whose fault is that?” I mutter, staring into the doe brown eyes on the screen.
This girl...
The look she gave me just a few years ago when I told her I won’t ever love her is still engraved on each bone in my body.
I remember the shiver that passed through her body when I touched her, the way she would look at me, the way I reacted to her touch…
George blows a breath, bringing me back to the present. “When last did you see her and the boys?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“When next will you see her?”
“You already know.”
“So, you are going to Ivy’s farewell party?”
“Weren’t you invited?”
The line falls silent.
“I was.”
“But you won’t go.”
“I… It's not like that. It’s just?—”
“You’re busy shaking hands with the devil, damning all else just for your own sake.”
At that, George falls silent again. Yeah, that’s the danger of me… I know more than I should, but I’m not done.
“Even with an invite I’m sure was painfully sent, you still manage to disappoint your sister and your friends.”
“Don’t throw that in my face! You know it’s complicated.”
“I suggest you come up with new excuses. This one’s getting rancid enough to kill a skunk.”
“It’s not an excuse, you heartless monster!”
“Then please, by all means, enlighten me on the validity of the rhetoric you’ve been spilling for the past few years since you rose from the dead,” I say sarcastically.
“Listen, asshole, I didn’t call to get advice from a heartless monster like you either.”
I pause.
See, the whole thing about the twins, George and Astraea, is… let’s just say it’s more complicated than what meets the eye.
The rope is rotten.
Bloody.
Full of unresolved issues, death, and conspiracies.
The truths behind the secrets… it’s all a recipe for calamity so on that regard, I do understand why George still hasn’t fessed up to why he did what he did.
George hasn’t had the ‘heart-to-heart’ he needs to have with the people his actions hurt.
Hell, he believes no one knows, but unfortunately, I’ve been aware of everything.
And I’m pretty sure he now knows that I know.
It takes a certain level of cunning, resources, and power to identify a man who’s at the edge of losing his basic human morality and civility and George Beaumont is just a simple decision away from becoming the heartless monster he accuses me of being.
I almost smile.
“My time on this accursed earth is running out but your secrets are just a breath away from igniting your house of lies into an inferno,” I say simply. “I wonder what your next move will be.”
Another silence falls between us. George knows I’m right.
“Are you monitoring me?” he grumbles.
“Someone needs to have your back. After all, children should never play with that which they know nothing about…like fire.”
“You should know, you have plenty of scars and unhealed burns to show for it,” he counters harshly.
I remain silent. He’s not wrong.
“Listen,” George starts, then he blows a breath before continuing, “I’m doing what I think is best here. For everyone involved.”
“Are you?”
I scroll down to check where Ivy’s traveled to for the last few years, which at first is pretty basic but suddenly, the last few months she’s been all over the country, with her latest trip scheduled for New York City in the coming days.
She must’ve found something.
Angel is tenacious, I’ll give her that, but she should’ve left this alone like I once told her.
“You know I can’t talk about it yet. You of all people know that my hands are tied,” George bites out.
A truth and three lies. That’s what I’ve heard since I picked up this endless call.
“Is that why you just disappeared with your baby mama?”
The line falls silent.
“She’s your sister… you do remember that, right?” George snaps.
“Is she?”
I won’t fucking fight with George over this, but when I look down, I’m surprised to see my fist is clenched tight.
The nuclear bomb that my mother had another child was dropped a few years ago—and then the so-called half-sibling appeared in the form of George’s baby mama.
Was that a coincidence? If you believe it is, then you’re as na?ve as they come.
Next, I found out that the girl lived most of her life close to Westbrook Blues. That in itself was a head trip.
I started thinking of the possibility that my mother might’ve been close to me all these years.
Before, I thought it was all a gimmick, a twisted play that made zero sense when George Beaumont crawled out of a grave I personally saw, but judging by the girl’s age, and the time I last saw my mother, Daphne must’ve been pregnant when I was four or five years old. That bastard confirmed as much.
Not only that, the girl, Lara or whatever her name is, her resemblance to my mother is so uncanny, it’s almost criminal.
But have I talked to her up to this day? No.
I’m aware that it would make so much sense to just ask the girl who her biological parents are and if indeed my mother is her mother, but I have two rules.
Never completely trust a single soul.
And two, if you want something done properly, perfectly, with no gray areas or doubts, do it your- fucking -self.
And I won’t ever acknowledge her. Not until I finally know if she’s an enemy or a foe.
Either way, her association with George, the fact that they have a child together, that too is no coincidence.
I just wonder if George knows that or if he’s just pretending to be as dumb as some people think he is.
“Listen, sooner or later, you and her have to sit down and face reality.” George huffs. “You’re such a fucking iceberg that nothing touches you. You don’t say anything. You feel nothing. You never fucking react. You don’t even care that you might have a sibling, let alone that you’re quite literally an uncle, but then you’re always moving in the fucking dark like a damn bat.”
“Is that why you called?”
Silence.
“No, asshole, I called to extend an invitation to an event I’m?—”
“No.”
“I didn’t even finish.”
“I did.” I pull the phone back from my ear, about to hang up.
“At least tell me why.”
“Simply because I know whatever it is you’re planning has everything to do with your Phoenix Corp underbelly shit and I’m not interested in it.”
“Because you’re now the pillar of morality and so out of touch with such dark dealings, huh?”
Both the insinuation and message are clear.
Just as I’m aware of who exactly George Beaumont is and what he’s been up to, why he did what he did beyond the excuses he gave everyone else, he too has a clearer picture of who I am now than he did when we were growing up together.
“No. I’m simply not interested.” I go to hang up again but he stops me.
“I’m pretty sure you’ll be interested in this particular one.”
“Why is that?”
“Because of the guest list.”
I pause.
Over the years, the boys and I have found ways of communicating without being blatant about it.
“In whose vicinity? My father’s?”
“No. The big boss.”
Ah, so these people are in direct opposition of my grandfather.
I tap my fingers against the leather seats of the Maybach.
“What do you want?”
“Your presence.”
“Is that nonnegotiable.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“A donation.”
“A donation?”
“The thing is like a fundraiser. You’ll see. I’ll give you all the details. Dress accordingly.”
Before I can tell him exactly what I think of his instructions, the line goes dead.
If there’s anyone who knows how to escape dangerous situations, it’s this fucker.
“Did you find out?” I ask Kai. We’re getting closer to the humongous estate at the top of the hill.
“Yes sir,” Kai starts. “Ty found it.”
“Call him in.”
“Yes, sir.”
It’s raining hard but all I can do is stare at the image of Angel on the iPad.
I haven’t seen her in over a year and in all this time, I’ve made it a point not to think of her but now, all my efforts are meaningless.
“Good evening, sir,” Ty—Kai’s twin brother—says, his voice crackling over the speakers.
“Ty, what did you find?”
“Indeed, Ms. Irving’s been very busy in the last few hours.”
“Hours, huh?”
I knew it.
“I’ve sent you the diagnosis report as well as her past activities from the last three years. It’s pretty impressive.”
“They haven’t traced her down yet?”
“As per your instruction three years ago, we’ve managed to maintain dummies on her network, sir.”
Good.
“She’s scheduled to fly to New York City in a few days.”
I pause, so it’s true.
“Why?”
“It seems contact was made.”
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.
Angel is a glutton for trouble, it’s ridiculous.
“She made contact first?”
“No, sir. They contacted her,” Ty responds. “It seems she was invited, with the promise of meeting them.”
What the hell?
Why would they do that? And why now?
I stare at Angel and the barely-there half smile on her face.
She’s elusive, this girl.
Everything she exhibits points to happiness and bubbly shit, but beneath all that is a sad little girl who I’m sure suffers from chronic depression.
She’s unearthing ruins when she’s not even prepared for the war that will accompany that, but what can I do when she’s begging for her own demise?
Now that she’s in actual contact with the people she’s been searching for, I’ll have to adjust.
“It seems we need to prepare as well.”
“Yes, sir.”
And the line goes dead.
“Sir, we found one more thing among the stuff we got from that rat.”
By the tone Kai uses, I know I’m not going to like it.
“What?”
“Among the surveillance reports, most were on Nurse Marie and of Miss Irving.”
A sudden rush of acidic fury burst in me.
When Angel first disappeared, I thought my father had gotten rid of her like he always wanted to. Now, finding out that my father’s dog has been keeping tabs on Angel…
“What kind of surveillance?”
“The regular kind. It could be to check if they were keeping up with the terms of the contract.”
Or it could be my father also suspects Nurse Marie and her grandchildren of something else.
“What do we know about the Irvings?”
Kai is silent for a few seconds. “Sir, you told us to stop digging.”
Of course. I wanted to give her a clean slate.
“That was then. Now, we go all the way in,” I mutter.
It nagged me before, but I was determined not to give a damn about anything concerning Ivy Marie Irving.
“What are you hiding, Angel?” I murmur to myself, looking out the window. It’s almost midnight and the Heavens have opened up with a sudden rain. “Whatever it is, I’ll get you. I promise.”
“Sir?” Kai questions. “Did you say something?”
“Does Ty have eyes on her?” I ask instead.
Ty is the shadow I put on Ivy’s fucking ass since the day she fucking came back to Westbrook Blues after she disappeared on me years ago.
As long as I keep breathing, I’ll never go a day without knowing where exactly Ivy Marie Irving is, at all times. I’ll never let that disappearance happen again.
Kai stays with me and Ty with Angel, at all times . She just doesn't know it.
“Yes, sir.”
“He’s to watch her round the clock and closely,” I instruct.
Ivy, for all intents and purposes, has never been a pressing matter, but still, one has to carefully guard against dying flames…or else who knows what might catch on fire?
“Yes, sir.” Kai bows slightly as we drive up the dimly lit driveway.
I notice multiple cars parked, the men standing around, waiting.
The car stops right beside the stately stairs leading to the wide-open double doors.
My door is opened and immediately, I’m no longer the Emmett from Westbrook Blues.
Here, I’m Emmett Alessio Damian Easton, the heir of the Easton Outfit, and the devil that shouldn’t have been.
As soon as I step out of the car, the fifty men around all bow their heads.
A tense ripple of anticipation is in the air tonight and as I look up to see Ripley, Grandfather’s long-serving butler, I notice the tension, can even sense the fear, the awe and respect, and then… the excitement from an asshole.
“Cousin! You’re finally here!” Xavier, my second uncle’s son says cheerfully when he sees me. The hate in his eyes is glowing green tonight. “We were beginning to think you’d chicken out and go blow your brains out in a dark corner somewhere.”
I don’t bother looking at him.
“Is that how you imagine your own death?” I ask instead, and he jerks. “I can make that pitiful wish from an insignificant cousin come true.”
Every man has thought of different ways to die or how they would kill another. In some ways, the more gruesome or horrific or dishonorable the death, the more they would never think that kind of death would happen to them.
“At this crucial time, you can still dare be arrogant?” Xavier seethes. “Just you wait and see what’s about to happen to you tonight!”
With that, he shoots me a smirk and then he rushes into the towering mansion.
I watch the clueless bastard go.
Judging by that, it seems dearly departed Jonny or Freddy was right.
The family is close to finding out about my fucking heart condition and that I won’t live long, but I can’t let that happen.
At least not tonight.
In fact, I’ve put measures in place for that specifically.
“Has it been done?” I mutter silently.
“Yes, sir,” Kai replies from behind me. “It’s complete.”
Good.
The vermin is in the trap.
Now… to chop its damn head off and squash the rest of its body like ground meat.