Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
LAUREL
I was so sick of people underestimating me. Sure, it opened a lot of opportunities that I wouldn’t have if people took me seriously, but it was still insulting. Like Kaos assuming I didn’t have the “skills” to bug someone’s phone.
The equipment I’d stolen from his work bag weighed heavy in my pocket as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
My father was out, his guards with him, so the penthouse level was empty.
I stood by the door, heart hammering as I put in the key code.
The door beeped as it unlocked, and I let out a sigh of relief.
The cameras would probably catch this, but my presence wasn’t too suspicious.
I’d grown up in this apartment, and I technically still had a room here.
It still smelled the same—a mix of my father’s bitter cocoa and the citrus of the sanitizer spray the cleaning staff used.
It brought with it a swirl of memories from my childhood, of having to straighten out my uniform here in case my father was home, of sitting stiffly at the dinner table for another quiet family dinner.
The ones that featured only Jule and me were happy, though they were tinged with grief now.
I made my way across the living room and over to my father’s home office, twisting the handle and slipping inside.
I glanced around, but it didn’t look like he’d added any security cameras in here since I’d moved out.
His scent was thick in here, almost suffocating, and made my already frayed nerves go absolutely haywire.
I didn’t want to linger, so I went straight over to my father’s computer and crouched down, pulling out the tower and inserting the cable I’d stolen from Kaos, hiding the small grey box in the mess of wires back there.
There. Done.
I turned, ready to leave, but stopped as I saw the Fairchild family tree.
It was a huge artistic piece that my great-grandfather had started, with the names elegantly painted along the silvery branches, complete with birth, marriage, and death dates.
It was beautiful, but any appreciation I’d felt for it had been ruined by my father’s many lectures about family and loyalty.
I examined my father’s name on the board, the space around him only connected laterally to my aunt Rosalind.
Further left, my father’s cousin Marcus was surrounded with the names of his packmates, Ashton and Gordon, and their mate, Angela.
Their three children, Prince, Romeo, and Felix, were nestled below them, and Marcus’s two siblings had busy lines as well.
I stepped closer, looking at my father’s name.
Whoever he had hired to repaint it had done an excellent job; the empty space was the only indication that other names had once been there.
Laura, Oliver, and Anthony had been erased for as long as I could remember, from this wall and from any conversation my father could control.
Their absence wasn’t new, but there was something about this section that was off.
My eyes slid down to my own name. Plenty of space surrounding me and below me, space waiting to be filled.
But that wasn’t right. The space shouldn’t be completely empty. I’d always drawn comfort from the fact that Julius’s entry had been nestled near mine. But his name was gone.
My breathing caught in my throat as my hand came up to touch the place where his name was supposed to be. I glanced up at my grandfather; his name was still there, with the date of his death below.
Julius had been deliberately removed, just like our mother and pack fathers.
My hands were shaking as I took out my phone and snapped a picture of the area. I hated this place and hadn’t been back since I’d moved out. But this was proof that Julius had done something that had pissed my father off enough that he’d been disowned. It didn’t really answer any questions, though.
I looked back up at where my other parents’ names were supposed to be.
Despite the topic being forbidden, Jule had told me about them, and he’d salvaged a photo so I knew what they had looked like.
I wondered where it had ended up? It hadn’t been in his room, but we never kept anything valuable in our rooms. We’d set up a bunch of secret areas for hiding stuff when we were kids, and I hadn’t gone back to any of them since he’d “passed.”
As I hurried out of the apartment, I resolved to go and see if the photo was in any of them.