2
I trotted down the curved stairs, trying to be optimisticabout 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 bitefrom 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.
