Chapter 26 #3
He sucks in a labored breath like I’m stressing him the hell out.
“I know you love your mother, Dove, and want to protect her, but she wasn’t the person you think.
You’re different, that’s all I’m saying.
You killed that biker in self-defense, and we took care of that mess for you.
There is no evidence, no bodies, and nothing to link you back to them.
There is no reason for anyone to be leaving you these threats.
Unless there is something else you haven’t told us?
” His brow rises like he believes there is.
“How could there be no way for anyone to link me back to them? It wouldn’t take much for someone to work backwards just like you and Slater did, and then they would see who I was connected to.
With all the modern technology these days, everyone has a video recorder at their fingertips.
This could literally be anyone who might have stumbled upon what I did or knows my old life. ”
He rolls his lips, a guilty-as-fuck expression appearing on his face.
Instant sickness washes over me. “What did you do?” I snap.
His lips twist just a touch but enough that sends a shiver down my spine. “That life has been deleted.”
I stare back at him, trying to process what he’s saying. My heart kicks up a little with fear of what he means. “You did what?”
A proud all-out grin lands on his face now. “We made sure there was no trail. Your life as Elsie never existed. Every record with that name attached is long gone. No one can trace you or link you back to them.”
My heart goes into overdrive. “There is no way. You couldn’t have destroyed it all.” In a panic, I pull out my phone and try and log into my Instagram, but it won’t let me. It just keeps saying I have the wrong username or password. My hands tremble as I try repeatedly, fresh anxiety taking over.
“We did. Every image of you has been destroyed, every video you put out into the world for the low-life creeps to beat off to, gone. You can thank me later.”
“Thank you?!” I almost shout. Is he fucking kidding me?
“I don’t believe you. It’s not possible,” I whisper as I start trying other apps on my phone, realizing I can’t log in to anything that’s attached to her name.
A shaky finger hovers over my photos. Do I look?
But I can’t help myself, and sure enough, the folder is empty.
Tears well in my eyes, fresh pain lodging itself in my chest. How dare he do this to me.
“When you’re as powerful as I am, anything is possible, birdie, a fact that would be useful for you to remember.
From today on, you are part of my family, one of the Thrones, and this town will accept any story we tell them.
That is why I booked Miss Arnott to have the paper run a story.
Hate me all you want, but I did it for you. ”
Sickness taking over my body, I stare out the front of the car.
How the hell did he delete my life? I don’t even understand how he had access to my accounts without my passwords, unless he did something when he was holding my phone hostage.
Is that even possible? Because these apps worked just yesterday, and now they are gone.
He keeps saying how powerful he is, and half of me thought it was all talk, but now I’m not so sure.
This shit is creepy and invasive and all-out insane.
He opens his door then comes around my side to get mine, staring down at me, oozing power in his expensive suit.
He holds a hand out for me to take, and I can tell by the look on his face he thinks he hasn’t done anything wrong.
“So, is there anything else you need to tell me? Or do we make up a nice story for the papers and be done with it. The four of us can get on with our lives.”
I glare back up at him, anger vibrating through me.
He just deleted the last ten years of my life with no concern about how that would make me feel.
My memories are all gone, my last years with my sick father, nothing but what I can still picture in my head.
Who does he think he is, God? Sure seems like it.
There is no way in hell I’m going to just get on with my life with him.
I ignore his hand and push up to standing, grateful for the extra-tall heels he got me so the height advantage he has over me isn’t as much.
He doesn’t let me pass but instead presses me into the side of the car when I try.
He radiates a stupid amount of heat. His large frame surrounds me.
He brushes his fingers through my now-short hair, his touch so different to what it was back at the restaurant.
It’s tender, almost like he cares when I know that’s not true.
“Don’t hate me. I did this for you, Dove.
” His hand slides down the side of my face, and he cups it, staring deep into my soul.
The broken look in his eyes only makes my chest ache more.
The boy I once loved is gone, and I’m never getting him back.
“Make up whatever you want,” I mutter, so done with being in his proximity.
I rip my hand from his grip and shove past him, stalking away back up the stairs of the parking garage, desperate for space from him, before I go find that knife and use it.
Don’t hate me. It’s a little too late for that, asshole.