Chapter 44
forty-four
ROSE
Dare won’t answer my calls.
Cassia hasn’t responded to my texts.
It’s only been a few days since Orion told us what happened, and I know she may be processing, but the lack of communication terrifies me.
Without anything better to do, I go through my closet, getting rid of every piece of clothing that reminds me of Dare. The dress I wore on the balcony the night he cornered me goes into the donation pile. The shirt I think he’d like? Donation. The thong and bra I want him to peel off of me?
Donation.
Soon enough, almost every hanger and drawer is empty, and there’s a giant pile in the middle of my bedroom floor.
Everything reminds me of him.
Even the sweatpants still sitting on the back shelf. Huffing, I grab them but pause when a lacquered box they were hiding catches my attention. The wedding box Mom left for me. The only thing of hers I got to keep because Dad didn’t know about it.
My hands tremble and the sweats tumble from my fingers. The box is heavy as I lift it from the shelf like the finest crystal vase. Slowly sitting, I tuck my legs beneath me and place the box on the closet floor.
“This is a special box, just for you.” Mommy shows me the black box with a little lock keeping it closed.
My eyes widen. “Is it a present?”
“Something like that, but you have to promise me not to open it until you’re married, when you have a husband of your own to protect you.”
“Like Daddy?”
She pauses, but I’m too focused on the box to notice the pain in her eyes. “Just like Daddy,” she says, voice hoarse. “But this box is for the women of our family. It’s a secret we keep from the boys. Otherwise, we might never find true love.”
“I can keep secrets,” I say quickly.
“Do you promise me, Rosie?”
“I promise.”
Throat tight and face hot, I run my palm over the top of the box. Now that I know everything, the pause in that memory carries more weight. I wish I had looked at her face. I wish we’d had more time. My heart is hollow as I think about everything I’ve lost.
Catching the lock between two fingers, I frown. She never gave me the key. The lock isn’t anything fancy. I can probably pry it open. A quick trip to the junk drawer to grab a screwdriver and pliers, and then I’m back.
Oxygen is suspended in my lungs as I try the pliers on the lock first, but I definitely need more leverage. The tool should add enough pressure. Grunting, I push down with the screwdriver, my wrist muscles tightening, and pull at the metal loop of the lock with the pliers, but it’s not as flimsy as I thought.
That’s fine. I’ll pry the clasp off the box instead. The tip of the screwdriver wedges between the clasp and the lacquer. It takes a minute, but eventually, the little nails pop free and the clasp flies through the air, landing on the carpet with a soft thunk. I drop the tools and open the box.
The inside is covered in soft, navy-blue velvet. There are a few pieces of jewelry. Silk gloves. A silver hair comb with inlaid diamonds. But the envelopes catch my attention. The one on top has my name scrawled across it in that same elegant looping script from the documents Orion showed me.
My breath catches. I grab it first and carefully open it, preserving the envelope because it’s one of the last things I have from her.
The parchment with dried flowers is delicate. I lift it to my nose and inhale. Touches of jasmine. The same perfume I smelled every time I hugged her. Swallowing around the grief clogging my throat, I carefully open the note, tears burning and hands shaking as I read the words Mom wrote for me.
My sweet Rosie.
I hope you kept your promise and waited to open this until you were married to a husband who would protect you. My mother gave me this marriage box and her mother gave it to her. I left you my grandmother’s hair comb. My mother’s favorite bracelets, and some of my most treasured jewelry. The ring is your birthstone.
A memory of my greatest gift from the world.
You’re such a clever little girl, so full of fire and hope. You inspire me every day.
Do you love your husband?
Does he treat you well?
Marriage in our world is...complicated. It’s not always beautiful, but my hope is that you found something special.
There are a few wet spots that smear the ink—some are fresh, but others are old. Mom cried when she wrote this letter. Sniffing, I swipe my cheeks and keep reading, holding the paper up, so I don’t continue to destroy the note.
There are other things I left you, Rosie. You can’t tell your father, but I trust that, once you see the information, you will have people you can go to for help. My friend Ellen Richardson is trustworthy. She’ll know what to do.
It’s my hope that you and I have many years together. That I get to see you graduate. That I get to see you grow into the beautiful woman I know you’ll be, but I fear my time will be cut short.
Consider this letter a hug every time you read it. I love you so much, my sweet daughter. You’ve made my life worth living. You keep me smiling, and I wish I could protect you forever.
Don’t forget to sing in the shower. Tip your head toward the sunshine and love like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.
Love, Mom.
At the bottom of the letter is contact information for Ellen Richardson. I press my hand to my chest. Dare’s mom knew my mom? I had no idea. Dad always made it seem like the Richardsons were outcasts, new money who had no respect. And when Dare’s parents died, Dad always said it was because they’d raised a monster.
Lines dig into my face, and I set her note aside and pick up the other envelopes. The first contains a copy of the dissolution papers and some of the other documents Orion found. The second has information for a lockbox at a bank. The third has legal documents that appoint the Richardsons as my godparents .
My dad’s signature is right there next to my mother’s and the Richardsons’, but it’s not quite right. Almost a little too neat.
Why would she forge his signature on this document?
Because she didn’t think he’d approve of her choice?
My mind is spiraling as I try to put the pieces together. When they were alive, I never saw Dare’s parents, outside of swanky business events. Dad gave me strict instructions to avoid them, and now that I think about it, I always had someone to steer me away from them.
There was one event where Ellen had stopped beside me, but before she could say hi, my nanny pulled me away.
Dad went to such great lengths to keep me away from them. Dare swore he didn’t kill his parents. While our relationship was a mess of extortion, lust, and lies, that’s one thing I believed.
I’ve never seen someone be so adamant.
And if my mom wanted me to go to Ellen with these papers...
“Dad killed them,” I whisper, the realization yet another cut that leaves me bleeding. There are so many that I can’t count, and if they were true injuries, there would be a pool of crimson surrounding me. A puddle of lies and death encircling me until the only way out is to wade through the pain.
To push past the betrayal that carves into my heart so deeply, the organ may never recover. To swim every harsh word and reprimand, the insults, the soft moments of praise. To wade through every carefully placed manipulation as my life unravels around me.
I don’t even know who my dad is. The loyalty I spared for him and him alone is all for...
Nothing .
Sorrow fills my lungs, trapping oxygen inside my body until black spots dance across my vision and a death knell rings in my ear.
All this time, I was so proud to be a Miller.
I thought it meant something.
I fought to protect our name. His business. I spent years of my life, worked weekends, sacrificed my own desires, for what?
For my dad?
The man who killed my mom and Dare’s parents? He brainwashed me to make sure I never questioned him. The worst thing of all was, everyone else saw it. The tabloids. The board members and staff who whispered behind my back.
Even Dare. He tried to make me see it. He’s the only one who took the time to try and show me what was right in front of my face.
My entire life has been a waste.
Curling up on the floor of my closet, I let the tears fall until my eyes grow heavy and sorrow rocks me to sleep, but I don’t rest for long. Waking is like stepping into a nightmare. The truth of everything is all laid out before me.
My cheeks are chapped from crying, but for now, my eyes are dry. A familiar numbness has taken hold. In a practiced dance, my mind took advantage of the short reprieve from reality and blocked out the worst of my emotions, tucking them far into the recesses of my mind, where they can’t hurt me. I slowly sit up, my gaze moving over the documents, the note my mom left.
It’s all here.
Everything Dare tried to tell me was true.
I was a pawn, but even worse, I was a fool.
I don’t have to be anymore, though. I may not be able to go back in time and keep that number from my dad, but I can give Dare everything he needs to take Joseph down. With this information and what Orion found, there’s plenty of evidence to start a case.
Grabbing my phone from the bedside table, I send a text while I gather the papers.
ROSE
Can you send me everything you have?
ORION
What email?
I send him the new email I created yesterday. One that is outside of my dad’s reach.
Sent. Do you want to tell me what you’re up to?
I will later. Maybe we can meet at Cassia’s tonight?
Deal.
Be careful.
I will be.
Grabbing a thumb drive, I clear the contents and power on my laptop to transfer the files Orion sent. This, in combination with what my mom saved for me, is enough to bring a case against my dad.
I only hope Dare will hear me out.
He’s not home. Or, at least, he’s not answering the door. I hesitate for all of three seconds before pressing my thumb to the lock. I breathe out and reach for the knob, but someone grabs my arm and yanks me back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Remy snaps.
Fear lances through my heart. The threat he issued weeks ago still rattles around inside my head. “Lovely to see you too.” There are too many people out and about for him to do anything right now.
Remy glances around and drops his hold when he notices a woman watching us. “Dare’s not home, and you shouldn’t be here.”
Smiling at the pedestrian, I breathe out and focus on Remy. “I’m here to drop something off.” I tip my head toward the bag I’m carrying. “Is that a crime?”
Remy’s eyes narrow. “Depends on what it is.”
“I won’t go any farther than the foyer.” Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I look down. “Please, Remy. I—” My voice catches, and I pause, pushing aside the emotions before lifting my gaze. “I never meant to hurt him.”
Remy studies me, eyes the bag, then steps closer. “The only reason I haven’t made good on my promise is because Dare ordered me to protect you.” He lowers his voice and his eyes, which once looked brown but are now black and soulless. Perhaps this is the face his victims see moments before they take their last breath. “That man has already been through enough. If not for him still wanting to keep you safe, you’d be dead for hurting him.”
Heart frozen, my throat goes dry, but I force myself to stay put. “I won’t go past the foyer.”
Remy exhales and shakes his head, muttering something about me being a stubborn woman before nodding and crowding my space. “You have thirty seconds. ”
I use that as an excuse to scurry away from him, but we both know my heart is slamming against my rib cage, his threat all too real. The scent of vetiver slams into me so hard, I almost stumble. Dare’s cologne, combined with the warmth of the home, wraps around me, but instead of bringing comfort, it acts as a noose, reminding me of everything I’ve done wrong. My stomach threatens to revolt.
Remy stomps behind me.
Shaking the thoughts from my head, I remember my purpose and open the bag.
A gun cocks behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see I’m in Remy’s sight. My eyes widen at the barrel a foot from my face.
“Twenty seconds.”
Shaking, legs trembling, I grab the box and set it on the foyer table, ignoring every memory we made there.
“Fifteen.”
Breathing in, I turn to Remy and walk until his gun is pressed against my chest, right at the center of the agony that haunts me. Orion was right. Sometimes it’s better not to know the truth, and without Cassia and Dare, life is pointless.
My best friend in the whole world can’t even look me in the eye. She hasn’t responded to my messages, and I get it, I do. She’s lost so much because of my dad.
And then Dare...his entire world was destroyed, and just when we were building something real together, I fell for another one of Dad’s lies. I hurt Dare, and for that, I can’t apologize enough.
But maybe this is what my family does. Cause pain. Destroy lives. Hurt innocent people. Break up families.
Well, it’s time for that to end.
“Do it,” I whisper .
A crease forms between Remy’s eyebrows. “Don’t try to be brave.”
My hand comes up to cup his forearm. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “It’s probably better this way.”
His eyes bounce between mine, and I hold his gaze, imploring him to do it. To end the misery and the Miller line. Two birds, one bullet.
“You made a promise, Remy. Don’t back down now.”
“Shut up,” he snaps.
“It’s okay. I’m not scared.”
Remy’s hand trembles, his finger hovering near the trigger.
“Do it!” I shout, digging my nails into his arm.
Remy snarls and drops his gun and stares at me with confusion. He scrubs his hand over his face and groans. “Fuck!”
Disappointment swims in my vision, and I nod, patting his arm as I pass. “It’s okay.” I can hardly see as I make my way down the stairs. Remy’s steps don’t follow. The car that brought me here idles at the curb. Another reminder of life before I knew the truth.
The pampered princess who had no idea she was cursed. Destined to be alone.
Sniffing, I turn and walk down the sidewalk, ignoring the concerned looks from the people I pass.
Millers don’t let emotions control them.
Forcing down the feelings clogging my throat, I swallow hard and battle a sob. Everything has to go back to how it was before. I can’t handle this. It’s too much. The little box in the back of my mind I used to stuff everything inside is smaller than before, leaving my mind a flood with everything I don’t want to feel.
I was fine before Dare. Ignorant, sure, but it was better than this worthlessness, the self-loathing I can’t contain. The realization that I’ve lost everything that really mattered.
My cheeks are streaked with tears. I keep my head low as a van stops next to me and the doors open. The last thing I need is for someone to recognize me and take a picture.
Come on, Rose. Get it under control. I try to fight every emotion and every sound.
But one cuts through. “ROSE!”
Dare .
My heart fractures at the desperation in his tone.
I whirl around, but his eyes are wide and his face pale, gaze set on someone beside me. Something crashes into my head, and Dare is the last thing I see.