Chapter Forty-two
I left the attorney’s office in shock.
My grandmother kept a lot of secrets from our family, the main one being how much money she really had. I’m talking triple the amount my father has; he got a percentage when she passed but it’s such a small amount in comparison to what she left me. She also had two estates, the one my father got and promptly sold not even a week after her funeral and another smaller one in the next town over. That’s mine too.
I also have her jewelry, her car, and whatever is at the estate.
I’d come here this morning with a plan and while this has completely astounded me, I have to pull through. But I’m not going to lie, this money is going to help. That’s the thing about money, it really does make the world go round and to win you need to be bigger. I am now bigger.
But I am not my father, and I already know what I will be doing with the money my grandmother has left for me. Thing is, what I have planned won’t even use it all – I mean it totally could, I won’t pretend to have any real idea but I’m pretty certain it won’t. Not that I care about it either way. I was going to go headfirst into this without any financial back up, but I will admit it eases some of my anxiety about what the future might hold for me.
Climbing into my Mercedes, I start the drive back to my parents’ house. Liam was there when I left this morning, he just looked at me coldly and went on his way after I lied about meeting Zara for breakfast. She’s called me twenty times since seven AM this morning and it’s only eleven now. I’m not ignoring her; I just need to figure this out on my own.
Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling through the gates, noting my brother’s car still in the drive. I didn’t care that he was here, it was probably best he was, but I also planned for this too. My parents’ car is parked in their garage, leaving only his outside.
Parking, I steel my spine, take a deep breath and pick up the folder that came with me today for this very reason, making a quick stop at his car before I head inside.
I find my parents in the dining room, a spread of food across the table for brunch. My mother sips on a glass of champagne while both my brother and father have brandy or whiskey or whatever – it doesn’t even matter, so I don’t know why I’m cataloguing their drinks. Nerves. It’s nerves.
I’ve never done anything like this, never stood and been loud like this. I thought I didn’t know how, but I only realized I didn’t because it was only me and I wasn’t important. But this right here, this is important, these are people’s lives, this is someone’s life that was lost because of the people sitting in this room.
“Have you come to apologize?” Is the first thing my mother asks me as she glares at me from across the table.
Is this what hate feels like? This burning, bubbling pit of rage that I only feel when I look at them. I am so consumed by what I’ve found out in the last twenty-four hours that I haven’t even thought about River. Well, no that’s a lie, I’m doing this for River and the pain is so clearly there, but I’ve shoved it so far down it’s struggling to get back to the surface. Maybe if it stays there, I can get over him quicker.
“You murdered River’s brother.” I address my brother and father, ignoring my mother, “You’re about to ruin thousands of people’s lives. You’ve lied and schemed and controlled and I’m done playing your games.”
The ticking of the large gold clock is the only sound that fills the room before my father stands so suddenly from his chair, it rocks back and goes over, slamming against the floor.
“What did you just say?”
“Are you deaf or just ignorant?” I sneer.
“How dare you!?” My mother hisses.
I laugh at her, “Get over yourself, mother.”
“Marly,” Liam warns.
“No,” I yell. “I am done. You’re not getting away with this anymore. I’m not going to stand by and watch this. Do you hear me?”
“And what are you going to do, Marly bug?” My father asks, his tone calm when his face says otherwise. He’s gone bright red and the way his hands are clenched suggests he wants to hit something. I’m on the other side of the table and far quicker than he is.
I slap the folder down on the table, “I have all the evidence so I’m going to give you a chance to do what is right.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” My father continues, seeming to try and calm himself, “Are you feeling well, Marly?”
“Don’t even try it,” I snap, “I’ve seen the videos. I watched Liam set fire to that barn and watch a man burn to cover his tracks, your tracks. I saw the trails of money you tried to hide when you paid off the police and fire chiefs to make this go away. I saw the other fires. You are so controlled by the number in your bank account, you don’t care whose life you ruin to grow that figure. And you need to pay for what you have done.”
“It’s that same money buying your clothes, financing your car, keeping you pretty,” My mother stands cooly, “Let’s not forget that.”
“I don’t care. Take it all. Have it. I don’t want it.”
I watch the three of them, my hand resting on the folder, “I am allowing you grace,” I tell them, “To come clean or I will do it for you.”
“You will ruin this family!” My mother screams.
“This family was ruined before I was even born!” I yell back.
My mother walks toward me, thunder in her eyes but I don’t back down, glaring at her.
“I will tell them all,” I warn them, nothing but truth in my words, “I will not stop until this ends.”
“Give me that,” My mother snatches the folder from under my hand, catching me off guard for a second even though I knew they would take it. I planned for it. What I didn’t expect was the sudden backhand to my face.
My head whips to the side as pain bursts in my cheekbone and toward my eye socket, already knowing by the tickle that works down my cheek that her fat diamond has cut me.
She grabs my hair, “I will not let you do this.” My scalp burns as she yanks my hair, pulling my head back.
“Della,” My father calls off my mother and she drops my hair, shoving me into the table. She marches back to my father and hands him the folder. Lifting my head, I see the three of them looking at me in contempt.
“I think you should go to your room, Marly,” He tells me as if speaking to a five-year-old and not a grown ass woman, “Think about what you have done.”
“Over my dead fucking body will I spend another moment in this house with you.”
There’s sudden movement as I turn to leave, and I know they want their hands on me. So, I run, I run as fast as I possibly can and throw open the door, beelining it for my car. I get in, hit the button to lock the doors and start the engine just as my brother comes careening out the door, straight to my car. He tries the handle first but when he finds it locked, he starts punching his fist against my window, unable to get through before I reverse at speed, leaving him stumbling after my car.
When he realizes I have no intention to stop, he makes a move for his Porsche only to find the surprise I left him. The two front tires sag thanks to the slashes I put into them, and my parent’s car will take another few minutes to get free and even when it is, his car is blocking the way.
By the time they’re able to, I’ll be long gone, and they won’t find me where I am going.
I pull up to the gates an hour later and punch in the code printed on the paperwork I’d collected from the attorney that morning along with the keys. The house is stunning, a cute cottage style with ivy climbing over the walls and wisteria on the porch set on about four acres of land. It could fit on my father’s estate six times over, but it looks like it’s been well maintained in the months my grandmother has been gone. The lawn is a lush green, and trees border the property and there’s a modest two vehicle garage attached to the side of the house.
Pulling to a stop in front of one, I climb out, clutching the key so hard it bites into my palm, and I don’t realize I’m shaking until I lift it to unlock the front door.
It smells fresh and clean inside, fully furnished with modern furniture throughout. Dropping the key to the console table, I notice a cream-colored envelope waiting for me, my name scrawled across the front.
I rip it open knowing it’s another letter from my grandmother.
Welcome home, Marly.
This is my favorite place to be, it always has been and I’m sad I couldn’t share it with you while I was still alive. You will love it here; I know because you’re so much like me.
I am proud of you.
You’re only here because you have taken a stand against the impossible system your father has created and that takes courage, Marly.
The fight may be over, or it could have just begun but use that courage, be brave, Marly, it’s time for their tirade to end.
I love you.
Grams.
I wipe at the tears rolling down my cheeks, the salty wetness stinging the cut my mother inflicted but then I roll my shoulders, and I go and explore my new house.