2
I trotted down the curved stairs, trying to be optimistic about why my father wanted me home.
Hundred different reasons circled in my mind, but they always led back to her, Leslie, the wicked stepmother.
I bet he’s figured it out. I bet he’s realized who he married and wanted me to come home for a private meeting about the future of the company.
Yes, that’s it. He discarded Leslie and will ask me to drop out of Castlehill, thank fuck, and help him run the business.
My mood lifted as I kept to that train of thought, then darkened as soon as I saw Leslie sitting in the breakfast room beside my father.
Her eyes lifted briefly as she took a tiny bite from the corner of her toast before forcing a tight smile.
“Good morning, Adina,” she said in that ‘I don’t like you, but I pretend I do in front of your father’ tone. That’s okay, I was the same toward her.
Dad dragged his eyes slowly away from his iPad, likely reading the latest news, which was his normal morning routine, and glanced up at me, but I could see shame in his eyes, and that split-second look was enough to make me nervous.
“Good morning, all,” I said far too cheerily, and was punished with another sharp look from my father.
“Are you hungry?” Leslie spoke to me as if I were a guest in my own home, and that put me on edge.
I knew this would happen. As soon as I left the house, she’d spread herself about, her art, the interior design, color, and basically brainwash my father to change the locks, so I had to knock if I wanted to enter my own home.
“Starving,” I answered truthfully, although my stomach was stirring so much in nerves as I poured a black coffee, pulled out a chair, and sat opposite them. If they were going to screw me over, then I want them to look me in the eye as they do it.
“Help yourself,” Leslie encouraged me, beckoning me to take some toast or scoop some cereal into a bowl. “We can arrange for Steph to cook you some eggs or bacon, but your father said you prefer a lighter breakfast.”
“I…do actually live here, Leslie, I am well-rehearsed in the routines of the household.” I kept my tone steady and lighthearted, but the message was a warning. I wouldn’t hesitate to fight her to the death if I had to.
“Very well,” she exhaled, pushed her chair back, and stood to leave. “I’ll leave you to it.”
I was pleased she was leaving, but the intensity in the room and the tense body language were feeding my highly strung nerves. “She didn’t need to go,” I said apologetically.
“Yes, she did,” my father snarled, then cleared his voice and added with a softer tone, “I wanted to speak to you alone.”
“Okay,” I breathed as anxiety clamped tightly on my chest and my breath hitched to prepare for what he was about to say. “Is it about…” I leaned forward and whispered, “Leslie.”
“No,” his nostrils flared in annoyance as he picked up his iPad and scrolled for a few seconds, as I waited for him to reveal why he asked me to return home this weekend. When I was met with silence, I scooped toasted muesli into my bowl, then poured cream over it, then scooped stewed plums on top.
“Why is Steph here?” I asked, realizing that it was Saturday, and normally that was her day off.
“I asked her to come in today to organize a lunch,” he stated flatly, still looking down at the screen of his iPad.
“Is the lunch for me?” I asked.
“No, for friends of Leslie’s.” He clenched his teeth as he spoke, as if it was irritating him to open his mouth and speak to me.
“Oh,” I gasped, “it’s not her birthday already? I still haven't found old college pics for her birthday cake. Maybe it will be easier if you ask her family for old photos.”
“No, it’s not her birthday today, and I’d prefer you keep searching for information on her at Castlehill,” he lowered his volume, and I glanced behind to see if someone was standing there, but it was clear. “And do it discreetly, so she doesn’t find out.”
“Okay,” I sighed in relief, “I don’t speak to her anyway, so… she won’t find out from me what your surprise is and-”
“I've been sent distressing information,” Dad blurted, and I was so glad that we’re finally arrived at the crux of the issue because small talk with my father was like pulling teeth. “Close the door.”
I got up as my stomach swelled in nauseating nerves, feeling sick and apprehensive, preparing for the worst. “Has something happened to Grandma?”
“No,” he snapped and waited until I was reseated before continuing, “The Warwicks.”
“Oh? What about them? I told you Mr. Warwick’s sons are at Castlehill, and yet you didn’t seem too concerned about that. I mean…they could practically kill me, but…” I paused when he shot me a staggeringly sharp look that almost took my breath away.
“Does that look like they were killing you?” he exclaimed, placing his iPad onto the table, face up, pushing it across the wood.
At first, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.
A scene in the dark… and a face in the dark, not just anyone’s face, but Ezrah’s chiseled cheekbone, looking down with a little smirk on his dial as his dark blond hair fell over his forehead.
Then my eyes notice flesh color, two people entwined, a man tightly holding a woman…
My cheeks burned when it occurred to me what this image was, and horror struck my heart. “Who took these?”
“There are five still images and a video,” my father’s steely voice shivered down my spine.
“Why….? I don’t understand. Why do you have this?” I struggled to get my words out because I was appallingly embarrassed and just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.
“The two men in the images…are,” he started and expected me to answer, but I think he already knew who they were.
“Um,” I squirmed in my seat, unsure if I should answer, then swallowed over a lump in my throat and answered, “Um, Lev and…” I mumbled Ezrah’s name under my breath, maybe hoping he’d focus on Lev, the man holding me as he lowered me onto the big vibrator.
“Surnames?” he asserted, making me tremble.
I sighed, then confessed, “Lev Ashthorn and…Ezrah…Warwick.”
“Ezrah Warwick,” he leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “The son of the man who hired a hitman to kill me. His son?”
I nodded as fury rose, “I told you they were at Castlehill, and you didn’t seem to care.”
“Of course, I care,” he snarled, frowning in anger. “I tried to have you removed, but you said you couldn’t come home because of a police investigation.”
“The police have already interviewed me, and that’s why they gave me a special pass to come home for the weekend,” I argued back.
“What about the other son, Nicolae?” Maxwell squinted at the name Nicolae. Perhaps he had a reputation similar to his father's.
“I don’t have much to do with him, luckily,” I told my father truthfully. “He’s two years older, a senior.” I exhaled, trying to remain calm, even though I was so embarrassed, but he still hadn’t answered my question, “I know this looks bad, but why would someone send you these pictures?”
He tilted his head to the side and glared at me, “Why do you think, Adina? Give me your best shot of why a stranger would send me these private images of my only daughter fucking the son of my enemy?”
“We didn’t have sex, and they set me up to allow someone to take photos and…is someone blackmailing you?” It finally occurred to me because why else would they do it?
“Yes,” he clenched his teeth, and his jaw pulsated.
“With what? Money?” I assumed.
“A lot of money,” he replied bitterly.
“The bastard Warwicks? They set this whole thing up to blackmail you because you sent their father to prison. It all comes back to the conflict between you and him,” I exclaimed, trying to take the attention away from my crime, which I still felt embarrassed by.
Maxwell rolled his eyes and cringed as if in pain.
“For God's sake, Adina, of all men, you chose the Warwicks? What the hell is the matter with you?” There were only a few times when my father was visibly distressed, and this was one of them.
Normally, he kept his cool, steady, and decisive tone—always had a plan, king of his world—and rarely let anything bother him.
“Dad, I’m sorry,” I pleaded, “Please forgive me.”
“But why them?” he snarled hotly, then shook his head in disbelief, “Forget it. I don’t want to know.”
But I had to get something off my chest, “I told you they were there, so why did she,” pointing my thumb behind me, “send me there? I bet she knew. I bet she wanted me to be knocked off, so she could have you all to herself. Right? She’s getting closer to that inheritance, isn’t she?”
“Don't be ridiculous, Adina. She wanted you to go to Castlehill because she went there and thought you’d appreciate the high standards and-
“Far, far away in the mountains, practically in a whole different country,” I interrupted. “To get me out of the way.”
“Adina, you’re being silly,” he scowled, then exhaled. “The person who sent these pictures to me used the name Coffin.”
I snorted sarcastically, “Coffee? Jeez, that’s an intimidating name.”
“Not coffee. Coffin,” he growled. “Are your ears glued on?”
“No, I’m sorry I misheard, but…hang on, you don’t actually know if it’s the Warwicks?” I scrutinized.
“No, I don’t,” he was about to add something else, but stopped dead.
“So…what do we do now?” I asked, feeling responsible for the mess we’re in, even though I was clearly tricked by the Warwicks, which was damn annoying because it exposed me for being an easy prey. That’s not only embarrassing, but a failure on my part, considering who my father is.
“You will do nothing,” he ordered, leaning across the table to retrieve his iPad.
“What about Castlehill? Do I have to go back?” I was practically begging not to. “That place is hell. Please don’t send me back.”
His silence disturbed me as I thought it would be an easy answer. What type of parent would have their kid attend college with men who want to kill her?
“Dad, please. I can’t go back,” I pleaded, and he placed his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together.
“Where’s the gun?” he asked, and I squirmed, shrinking down into my seat. “Adina,” his tone turned dark, “where is it?”
My cheeks burned some more. If I wasn’t embarrassed enough over the filmed frolicking with Lev and Ezrah. He’ll never trust me again. “Um,” I sighed.
“Adina,” he scolded, reading the horror on my face. “Where is it? Did you bring it with you?”
I shook my head. “I’ve lost it.”
“What? You lost it? How could you lose a handgun? I thought you’d be responsible, Adina. You’re hardly new to handling guns, so how the hell did you lose it?” he snarled as his preconceptions of me were shattering into a thousand pieces.
“I didn’t lose it,” I corrected myself, glancing behind me when I heard someone walk past—probably Leslie being nosy.
But she didn’t stop, so I continued. “Someone broke into my room and stole it. I had it hidden well. And why did you give it to me in the first place? I mean…it’s college, why exactly did you think that I needed it? ”
“Wait. Someone stole it?” he tipped his head and gazed up at the ceiling as if all his worst nightmares had come true. “Don’t tell me…”
I knew what he was implying, “I don’t know if it was the Warwicks. I have no proof, and it’s difficult to ask questions without revealing that I had a gun in the first place.”
Okay, he looked really pissed now. I screwed up massively. “Forget it. It’s too dangerous to go back.”
“Thank goodness,” I sighed, then remembered, “Oh no. I have to go back for the police investigation because I was on the same carriage as a student who died, so…”
“Did you see anything?” he questioned.
“No,” I lied because I didn’t want more drama to cloud the original drama, which was the damn Warwicks setting me up. “Anyway, you haven't answered my question. Why did you feel I needed protection at Castlehill anyway?”
He shrugged his shoulders, “Let’s not get into that.”
His answer surprised me. Another secret. An ulterior motive. “No, tell me.”
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? You’re a Boleyn.
You’d be the enemy to many,” was his reply, and I didn’t quite believe him.
“Anyway, I need to think about all of this," I said, pointing to the iPad with my pics on it and the blackmail. “If I don’t make a decision, then they will release these images.”
“To whom? Who’s going to care?” I pressed, and he stabbed me a look.
“I’ll care,” he hissed, flicking his hand at me to be dismissed, “Now get out of my sight.”
“But Dad,” I pleaded as hot tears formed in my eyes, but I refused to show my weakness by crying. “Please.”
“Leave,” he said, far too calmly. “I can’t look at you right now.
” His eyes flicked to the iPad, and he cringed at how disgusted he was with me; I felt so ashamed.
There was nothing more I could say to change his mind, so I pushed my chair back and stood to leave.
As I turned my back to him, walking away, he said in a softer tone, “Stay in your room, and once I’ve figured out what I’m going to do about this mess, I’ll call you down. ”
I was close to reminding him that I was an adult and he couldn’t make demands, but I thought it was unwise at that time.