Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
Cora
When I come to, I can tell it’s later in the day. The sun is still shining through the tiny window, but it’s not as bright. It makes me worry about Noah. He’s still at school, and I pray somehow Mara or Mila realizes I’m missing and goes to get him.
Carefully, I pull my body to a sitting position, and wince when I feel the goose-egg swelling on the side of my head.
For an old, evil woman, Bea sure hits hard.
My vision is blurry, but I can make out that I’m still in the basement.
The newspaper article Bea flung at me is on the floor within reach.
I pick it up and study the photo of the man and his family.
I knew I took after my mom, but now that I see this photo, I question how much of me actually came from her.
I got her eyes and nose, but looking at the face of the man who Bea claims is my real father, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe she isn’t lying.
The door opening catches my attention, and I watch Bea carefully trek down the stairs.
“Oh good. You’re awake. I was worried I might have got ya a bit too hard.” She laughs. “I let my temper get away from me.”
“I guess it’s a family trait then.” I know I shouldn’t, but I goad her. She doesn’t fall for it this time, though. Bea scowls at me from the base of the stairs.
“Here.” She tosses a prepackaged sandwich and a bottle of water at me. “I can’t have you dying just yet.”
“Why am I here, Bea?” Shoving them to the side, I glare at her. I haven’t been conscious long enough to have a full conversation with her. “I don’t get what your goal is here.”
“Well, I should think that would be obvious, dear.”
Seeing my confusion, she sits in the chair from earlier and tuts at me. “Noah.”
My spine immediately straightens. “What about Noah?”
“I’ll become his guardian—”
“Like fucking hell you will,” I spit out.
Anger flashes across her face before she schools her expression. “I will. It’s a shame, really, about your upcoming ‘accident.’”
I can’t let her have Noah. “Why do you even want him? You’re old, Bea,” I point out the obvious. If she hits me again, so be it.
“When I become his guardian, he’ll be under my care. He’s the last piece I have of my Samuel, and I’ll raise him right.”
“Like a psychopath?”
“Like Samuel would have wanted. But, as you know, young boys can be expensive.”
That’s when her game plan dawns on me. “You don’t want Noah; you want the money. Jesus, Bea, fine. I’ll go to the bank and get it; you don’t have to go through all this.”
I don’t think I’ve ever truly hated my parents until this moment. Why couldn’t they just be normal, or just have a less shitty family?
“I don’t want the money, well, not all of it. We’re splitting it, you see.”
We? Who the hell is she talking about? “There is no one else, Bea. Sadly, you’re the only family we have left. You saw to that.”
“That’s what you think, Cora.” She laughs; the gaps in her smile only add to the darkness coming from her soul.
“That money came from my mother’s mom. You have no rightful claim to it,” I remind her. If Samuel really wasn’t my father, then she can’t claim it at all.
“Are you certain about that?”
The way she says it makes me wonder. I try to remember back when I was younger and come up empty. There were always people coming and going, and I had plenty of “aunts and uncles,” but I didn’t think any of them were really related.
Running my hands through my hair, I try not to show how much pain I’m in. My legs and arms are sore, likely from where I fell, and my head fucking hurts. Breathing alone sends a sharp pain through my skull, but I know I can’t let her have Noah.
I don’t care about the money—I can always make more, or sell our home and move somewhere smaller—but the idea of leaving him with her is unbearable.
Atlas’ face pops into my head, but I quickly push it out. He never wanted Noah, so all he has is me. I have to make it out of here.
“So, what’s your plan, Bea? Bore me to death?”
“If only you had gotten off that easy. I’m having a document drawn up. It’s awfully handy. I have a friend who does wills. You’ll sign one bequeathing Noah to me, along with all of your financials.”
“And if I refuse to sign?”
“Then I’ll break every finger you have so you’ll have to use your tongue to sign.”
Shaking my head, I fight back tears. I will not let her see me cry. I’m going to get out of this. I just have to use my head and not let my emotions get the best of me.
“Bea, I mean this with the utmost disrespect. Fuck all the way off, and when you get there, come back and do it again. I will not sign anything that gives you Noah. No one would believe it. You can’t make me.”
Her face twists into an ugly snarl, and she stands so quickly her chair flies back, clattering on the floor. “You will sign those papers, but you are right.” She smiles. “I can’t make you, but he can.” She points toward the stairs, where another person is walking down.
As he stands next to Bea, I look at the newcomer and my brain freezes. “Aidan?”
“Hello, Cora.” He smiles, and though it looks friendly, I know it’s anything but.
I stare at the two of them, confused as can be. Why would Aidan be here? I’m pretty sure it’s Bea’s basement I’m holed up in.
“Are you here to help me, or help her?” I gesture toward Bea.
Giving me a shake of his head and a sad smile, Aidan says, “Not for you, kiddo. Sorry.”
Laughing, I glare at both of them. “Don’t think you’re actually all that sorry,” I toss out. If he’s with Bea, then who knows what she’s told him. “I’ll tell you what I told her: I’m not signing anything. You can’t have Noah.”
Crouching down in front of me, Aidan pushes my hair back, pressing into the lump on my head in the process. I flinch and jerk away, but he grabs a chunk of it, holding me in place.
“You’ll sign it, because if you don’t, we’ll do things the hard way,” he finishes, grabbing a hold of my finger with his other hand and snapping it back quickly. I feel a sharp twitch and then pain radiates through my arm. I pull back, but he still has hold of my hair.
Tears well in my eyes, and I want to scream but don’t. That bastard just broke my finger; I have no doubt. Looking down, I see where my pointer finger is no longer straight but curved at an angle. He shoves me back against the wall and stands to his full height.
“I haven’t been around the last few years, Cora, or we would have met sooner.
Your mother was my younger sister, and we were very close until I ended up in jail.
Your asshole father decided it was a good idea to get caught with drugs but told the cops they were mine.
He disappeared for a few months when she was pregnant with Noah because he knew I was looking for him. ”
Well, that explains his absence at least.
“Mandy and I didn’t see eye to eye with our mother.
She thought she was too good for us.” He sneers.
“Mandy told me about the money that our mother gave you, but of course, the judge didn’t hesitate.
He tossed me in jail, and I’ve been there ever since.
I couldn’t even go to her funeral or contest her will.
” Shaking his head, he walks back towards Bea, who’s been silent the whole time. It’s like she’s enjoying the show.
“So, here’s what’s going to happen.” He points at me. “You’ll sign whatever papers Bea gives you, and she will get Noah. I’ll get the money that was meant for me, and everyone gets to go on with their lives. Except for you, of course.”
“You’re delusional, both of you,” I spit out. My head and finger are throbbing, and I know I need to get out of here, but I don’t know how. “No one will ever believe I just left Noah.”
“Won’t have to worry about that. It’s crazy what a gas leak in a car can cause.” He turns toward the stairs. “I’ll be back soon. Be ready to sign those papers.”
As he heads back upstairs, I glance at Bea. “Don’t worry. You’ll see your mom real soon, Cora. You can ask her all about your real father then.” She snickers, following Aidan.
The realization that I’m well and truly screwed starts to creep in. I need to form a plan. Glancing around the basement, I take my time moving around as much as the chain will allow. My vision blurs, and the pain in my hand keeps me from going too fast as I crawl.
Feeling around on the dark, dusty floor, my hands find something slim and metal.
Tugging on it, relief floods through me when I see it’s an old screwdriver.
I might be able to break the cuff, or at the very least, I now have a weapon.
I clutch it in my non-injured hand and slide back to the mattress. I am not going down without a fight.