42. Callie
forty-two
Callie
I pat and smooth down my favorite chambray jean shirt with pockets, for the tenth time in the last five minutes, trying to brush off the nervous energy surrounding me.
When I planned my confrontation with my half-sister, I knew there was no better place to meet than here—at our father’s penthouse, where my prison sentence began. It’s the perfect spot to put an end to her.
The elevator dings, and I quit pacing the length of the living room and take a seat on the couch, waiting for Silla to arrive. I run my fingers over the cool metal beside me and take a deep, calming breath.
In the distance, I hear the front door open and the click of Silla’s high heels on the hardwood floors as she walks down the hall.
You can do this.
As usual, Silla struts into the living room like she’s on a catwalk, waiting for the audience to gasp and awe at her presence. She thinks she’s untouchable. I’d laugh at her haughty attitude if the shock of watching Bryan Novak following her into the apartment didn’t make the air in my lungs seize. His face is a stony mask as he leans against the wall, looking bored.
My fear turns to white-hot anger at the sight of the man who murdered my father.
Focus, Callie. Bring Silla down first, then the murdering bastard.
Channeling my rage, I turn to Silla and smile. “Hello, sister . So nice of you to join me.”
Her eyes narrow at the endearment, hatred spewing from her glare. “Callie,” she gloats like she’s already won the game.
The problem is, I’m not playing a game; I’m going to war, and I plan to win.
In a pathetic power play, she walks over and kisses Novak on the mouth.
Bile rises in my esophagus. This bitch thinks she’s going to walk out of here unscathed. I’m giddy with anticipation of seeing her face when she realizes what I’ve done to her.
I clear my throat, and they break apart. Novak stays at the door, like a good little lapdog, as Silla walks over and takes a seat on the arch chair across from me.
“I’m here. What do you want, Callie?” She seductively crosses her legs and places her hands in her lap.
“To tell you we’re through. It’s over, Silla. All of it ,” I state firmly, hoping she reads between the lines.
My skin crawls as she throws her head back in a shrill laugh. “We’re done when I say we’re done.”
I bite back a smile at her cluelessness. “Wrong. You’re done, Silla. I talked to David Jenkins. I know everything.”
Her eyes widen, slightly shocked. She recovers quickly, snapping at me. “You’re lying. You don’t know anything.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. He gave me the trust and all the information on your fake IDs in my mom’s name.”
She scratches at her wrist, making me smirk. I have her, and she knows it.
“I have the life insurance policy you forged, the fake conservatorship papers, and I also have your man there.”
“You have nothing,” she hisses.
Novak shifts uncomfortably against the wall, no longer looking bored.
“I will give it to you, Silla. You were good at keeping me and Mom scared, but I’m not anymore. You’re hold on me is over. And when the police get here, they will know all about it. They will also know about him. I saw him the night he shot our father and ran off,” I admit.
“You couldn’t have.”
“I did. It took me a while, but I figured it out. That’s how I know he has a barbed wire tattoo on his right wrist.”
Novak tugs at his sleeve, pulling it down.
That’s right, motherfucker. I’ve got you too.
“I just want to know why. Why did you have him kill our dad?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Silla stands from the chair and points at me like I’m the one in need of a scolding. “You have no evidence.”
“Liar.” I jump to my feet and hold up the gun I had stashed beside me. The weapon is heavy in my hands as I lift it and point it at her. “You’re lying. Tell me the truth. Why did you have Dad killed? I know it was you. You did this. I want the truth. Right fucking now. Tell me!”
“Because I hated him!” Silla screams, finally showing me her true self. “He was supposed to die and leave me the money I deserved for being the forgotten daughter. But you ruined that too, and he left you everything and I got nothing.”
“You weren’t forgotten, Silla. We could have had each other. You didn’t have to kill Dad. What did I get? Money? I would have given it all to you if you had just left me and Mom alone.”
Silla scoffs. “Oh, shut up. I’m so sick of your fucking whining. No one gives a shit that I killed your daddy and that your mommy is in a loony bin. Poor little rich girl.”
“I hate you.” I fight the urge to slap the sneer off her face. She has zero remorse for having our dad gunned down.
“The feeling is mutual, little sister .”
“What happened to the trust Dad left? My paychecks? The money from the Malibu house and Mom’s child support? You could have left with millions. Why do you need me dead too?”
Silla pants, her fists balled at her sides as anger and hate roll off her in waves.
I click the safety on the gun. In a quick move, I point it at the vase and pull the trigger. It explodes in a burst of sparkling crystal dust. Silla ducks, covering her head from the shards.
Novak takes a step towards Silla.
I turn the gun on him. “Don’t. Stay where you are. I have no problem shooting you.”
He raises his hands and steps back as I return my attention back to my sister.
“Tell me!”
“Because it’s not enough for the life I deserve to live. Dad owed me for leaving me. He forced me to live with my mother and her new family while he ran off with your mother and had you. You ruined everything. If I couldn’t have him, you couldn’t either. He was supposed to die and leave me with the money. But no, he couldn’t even do that right. So now, you have to die. You’ve run out of being useful.”
“You didn’t have to kill him. Dad would have helped you if you asked. He wanted you to be a part of our family.”
“I didn’t want to be a part of your stupid little family,” she screams. Silla looks unhinged, standing in the middle of the living room. Her face is beat red, and her blue eyes that I once thought looked like our father’s are nothing like them. “Dear old daddy left me for your whore of a mother and replaced me with you. Daddy’s perfect, pretty little Callie with her angelic voice. You had everything! And I had nothing. But not anymore.”
She lunges for me and reaches for the gun in my hands. Her claw-like nails dig into the back of my hands. I struggle to hold on to the gun as we fight, crashing into the furniture in the living room. She slips out of her high heel, and I use it to my advantage, elbowing her in the stomach. Unfortunately, Silla’s too strong and overpowers me, pulling the gun from my hands.
She turns the gun around and points it at me, pulling the trigger. The gun goes off with a bang, knocking the breath out of me. I stumble back at the pain lancing my stomach and clutch the ache in my belly. Falling on my behind in the middle of the living room, I watch as blood pools on my core.
Fuck .
“Pathetic.” Silla shakes her head at me with fake disappointment.
“You’re pathetic. Not enough plastic surgery in the world can hide what a disgusting human being you are.” I grunt, sucking air through my teeth, and put pressure on the searing throb in my stomach as more blood soaks my hands.
Fuck, that hurts .
“That’s all you got, princess ?”
My hackles rise as she uses the endearment Eli calls me. Fucking bitch .
She smirks. “You’re weak. It was so easy to manipulate you. My little singing and dancing puppet. Thanks for the paychecks, but now it’s time to say goodbye.” She walks over and smashes picture frames on the floor. Vases, glasses—anything she can get her hands on—follow as she destroys the living room. “Help me, you idiot,” she shouts at Novak.
He finally moves and helps her upend the armchair and coffee table. My heart sinks as he disappears into the kitchen, and I can hear him crashing glasses and tossing appliances.
I return my attention to Silla as I try to catch my breath, wrapping the adrenaline rushing through my veins around me like armor. “And just how do you expect to get away with letting me die, Silla? I bet someone heard the gun go off and called the cops. They’re probably on their way here now.” Blood fills my mouth as I grind my teeth. I spit a glob onto her feet. “You’ll never get away with this.”
She walks over and crouches down beside me, getting in my face. Silla lowers her voice. “Of course I will. When the police arrive, they’ll find you and your attacker dead. I shot him to protect you, but I was too late. You were already gone. Poor popstar gunned down in her own home by a stalker. I’ll be called a hero for trying to save you.”
“What attacker?”
“My sweet Bryan, of course. The poor man has lost his usefulness, don’t you think? He couldn’t even get rid of you, so now I have to. I should have cut him loose years ago, but you always have a soft spot for your first love. Don’t you?”
I want to throw up at the veiled reference to Chad and the way she fucked him. “You’re evil.”
“And, soon, very rich.”
“You’ll never get away with this.” I slide back against the couch. My stomach lurches, and my hands shake as the sting in my stomach pulses in time to my heartbeat. “Eli knows the truth. He will catch you. He’ll never stop going after you.”
Silla laughs and stands, towering over me. “I’d like to see him try. I’ll be long gone by then, waiting for my payout.”
“If he doesn’t catch you, the … ugh … t-the police will,” I stutter.
The evil witch laughs again, and it’s like nails on a chalkboard. “The police are idiots. They’ll believe anything I tell them. Just like before.” She steps on my thigh and aims the gun at my heart. “See you around, little sister.”
Staring down the barrel, I close my eyes to think about Eli—the man who gave me strength and helped me become the strong woman I am—and wait for the inevitable. I hear the telltale sound of the trigger being pulled back before the gun pops.
My body lurches back from the explosion. Double fuck . The new burn in my chest hurts worse than the last. Between the blood pounding in my ears and the sound of the gun bang, I can’t hear anything as blood seeps from my shirt and drips down me.
When I open my eyes, I find Silla standing over me with an evil smile on her face.
Gasping for breath, I count to ten. As my breathing evens out, I call out to my back-up. “Did you guys get all that?”
“What the fuck?” Silla lowers the gun, her foot still on my leg, as she stares at me in confusion, shaking her head as it registers.
Gotcha, bitch.
“No,” Silla mutters.
“We got it, Callie.” Boone walks into the living room from his hiding place in the bedroom, where he was watching and recording Silla’s confession.
Mason appears next. “The police should be here soon.”
I kick Silla’s foot off my leg, and she stumbles back. Pushing up to sit, I rest against the couch and rub my chest. The squibs—small blood-filled packets attached to a timed explosive device—hidden in my shirt hurt more than I thought they would. Boone warned me they might burn and sting, but experiencing the hurt is a different story.
Silla’s confusion turns to anger. “No! You’re supposed to be dead,” she shrieks, firing the rest of the blanks in the gun at me until it clicks empty. “No!” She throws the gun at the floor.
“Oh yes.” I smile at Silla and stand before my sister. “Did you really think I’d be so easy to take down? You’ve mistaken my kindness for naivety. Who’s the stupid sister now?”
“I’ll fucking kill you.” She lunges at me, but I’m ready for her.
I rear back and throw my fist into her face as she charges. Blood spurts, and she goes down like a pile of bricks to the floor.
“You bitch. You broke my nose.”
“Be grateful that’s all I broke.” I loom over her as she writhes in pain on the floor, clutching her broken nose and cursing me. “You are so fucking fired.”
“Fuck you, Callie. I hate you.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, you evil witch. I hope you rot in hell.” All my pent-up rage comes out as I kick her hard enough in the hip that she rolls onto her stomach, screaming more vitriol and threats.
“You did good, Callie.” Boone steps in, nudging me aside so he can bind Silla’s hands behind her back with a zip tie.
I grin as blood pours out her nose and all over the white carpet. “Thanks, Boone. I couldn’t have done this without you. Wait. Where’s Novak? Jace? Cam?” I ask, panic rising.
“They’re safe.” Mason lays a hand on my shoulder and shouts, “Jace! Cam!”
“Miss us?” Cameron croons as he and Jace walk out of the kitchen, clutching a black-eyed and bloody-lipped Novak under their arms.
The creep struggles but can’t do much with his hands tied behind his back.
Relief floods my system at the pair of them. My brothers.
Jace grips the back of Novak’s neck and shoves him. “Can you believe this dickhead thought he was going to get away? Tried to sneak out too.”
Cam chuckles. “Jace clocked his ass before I could. Big bro is no fun. He wouldn’t let me hit him.” He pouts like a sullen child, making me laugh.
“You have playoffs. We can’t chance your hand getting injured,” Jace points out.
“Touché.” Cam winks at me, reminding me so much of Eli.
I really need to get back to him. He’s probably woken up by now, and if I know my man, he’s going to be pissed and worried.
“Let go of me, you fucking assholes,” Novak shouts, but he’s cut off when Cameron twists his body around and knees Novak in the stomach. The piece of crap falls to his knees, gasping for breath.
“That’s for my brother, you prick.” Cam spits on him.
The door flies open, and armed police walk into the living room, weapons drawn. We all raise our hands, and the police officer leading the group takes in the scene. When his eyes land on me and Cameron, he lowers his weapon, ordering his team to do the same.
“Did someone call in a disturbance?” the cop asks.
Boone and Mason step forward to explain the situation, going into detail about how we put together this sting to capture Silla on tape, confessing to her crimes including embezzlement, insurance fraud, murder-for-hire, and identity theft, as well as Novak’s involvement and how I can identify him as the man who killed my father.
The officer—who turned out to be a detective—orders his colleagues to take Silla and Novak into custody. When he asks me to go with him to the station to make a statement, my new lawyer steps in. Jace exchanges information with the detective and tells him I will be at the station in two days, after we know for certain Eli will make a full recovery.
Boone offers to stay back and help the officers collect the evidence. I give him a giant bear-hug, thanking him for all his help. His stunt knowledge and help made all the difference. He’s the reason Silla confessed. Like Eli would say, I owe him a favor.
More like a thousand favors.
As the adrenaline wears off, I bend over, shake my fist, and hiss at the searing pain blooming in my fist and knuckles from punching Silla in the face. “Oh fuck. You guys, my hand hurts. Movies don’t tell you how badly it hurts to punch someone.”
“No, they don’t,” Mason agrees.
Jace disappears and returns with a baggie of ice and a dish towel. He wraps my hand up, like a real big brother.
I sniff back tears as my heart grows twice its size as Eli’s brothers take care of me. “Thank you.”
Jace bumps my chin with his fist. “Any time, Callie.”
“Doesn’t feel good to receive them either.” Cam rubs his chin.
“Got experience in that department?” I ask.
“You could say that.” He grins mischievously at me and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I’ll show you a video on our way to the hospital.”
“Where you will get your hand X-rayed,” Jace adds.
“Eli is going to kill us,” Mason grumbles.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from Eli’s wrath, but I can’t guarantee he won’t lord this over you and ask for a hundred favors.”
They all burst out laughing in full agreement.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your help. For having my back.”
“And we always will,” Mason states.
“You’re a Miller now,” Jace adds.
“And you’re stuck with us. Fair warning: we are loud, nosy, and will probably hear you and Eli doing something inappropriate at some point,” Cameron says.
“Um...” I can’t stop myself from glancing over at Mason, whose ears turn pink.
“Oh shit. It’s already happened. Please don’t be a prude and tell me all the dirty details so I can annoy Eli endlessly,” Cameron pleads.
We get on the elevator, laughing, and because I owe him for the help, I spill some tea and—in Cameron’s words—seal the deal as another one of his little sisters.
Even after the intensity of what just went down with Silla, I feel lighthearted. While it should have been shocking to hear her confess to all the horrible things she’s done to me and my family, I already knew the truth. I knew it when I saw the picture of the man who killed my dad.
All I want now is to put it all behind me and start the next phase of my life—with Eli and his crazy, wonderful family.