Page 18 of The Devil’s Lair

On autopilot, I refill Isla’s juice cup and force myself to eat a couple of spoonfuls of yoghurt. In the last nine days, I’ve lost half a stone in weight, the dark circles beneath my eyes are now a permanent fixture, and I cannot remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep. The pressure is mounting, and there’s no outlet, no one to talk to, no net waiting to catch me. For the first time in years, I consider calling my mother. No sooner did the thought pop into my mind, I quash it. Alcohol stole my mother from me years ago. She’s incapable of helping herself, let alone me.

What if Tobias’s offer of legal help was an empty promise? He doesn’t owe me anything. It’s me who owes him a debt I’ll never be able to pay off. I stare at my phone, pick it up, then put it down.

Tomorrow. I’ll call tomorrow.

Isla jumps down from her chair and makes a beeline for the door.

“Erm, excuse me, Missy. Bowl in the sink.”

She flashes me a grin, does as I ask, then skips from the room. I keep expecting her to ask about Marcus, not in words, in gestures. She hasn’t. I’m not sure what I’ll say when she does. I hope I’ll find the right words and not let my relief at his death show. I don’t want my feelings to influence Isla. Kids are smart, and Isla is smarter than most. She will pick up what I’m not saying rather than what I am in a second.

I wash up the few breakfast things and put them away. It’s a dry, chilly day. I should take Isla out for a walk, get some fresh air, but I’m too afraid of being followed by journalists. Although they haven’t returned since Tobias’s bodyguard got rid of them, they could be loitering somewhere away from the house, waiting for me to appear. Hopefully soon, something more newsworthy will come along, and they’ll forget about me.

My phone ringing startles me. I pick it up. No Caller ID. Spam normally comes from an actual phone number. No Caller ID is usually something official.

Oh, God, please don’t let it be the police. What if they want to file additional charges? What if Felicity’s silence is because she’s been stirring the pot and making life worse for me? What if it’s the court bringing my sentencing hearing forward before Tobias can put his offer of help into practice?

Breathe. Relax. Answer the damn phone.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. La Salle?”

I fucking hate that name. I’m going back to my maiden name of Wrenley as soon as possible. “Yes.”

“This is Paul Felton of Felton Solicitors.”

My heart leaps into my throat. Please let this be Tobias’s guy. Double please let him be able to help me.

“Mr. De Vil engaged me as your legal counsel for your recent… troubles.”

That’s one way to describe them. “He did mention.”

“I have some good news for you.”

Hope spikes, and my arms break out in a raft of goosebumps. “Oh?”

“The charges have been dropped. You’ll receive an official letter from the court within the next week or so.”

My legs go from underneath me, and I catch myself on the end of the table just in time to save me from collapsing to the floor. “Did you say they’ve dropped the charges?”

“Yes. Your record is clean.”

“Oh, my goodness, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“It’s no trouble. I’ll text you my number as soon as I hang up. If you don’t get the letter from the court within the next ten days, give me a ring, and I’ll follow up for you. Should you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”

“I-I don’t know what to say, Mr. Felton.”

“You don’t need to say anything. Have a good day, Mrs. La Salle.”

He hangs up, and seconds later, a text comes through with his number. My hands shake as I save it to my contacts. I can’t believe it. Just like that, it’s over.

I rush into the living room and envelop Isla in a hug. She’s no idea what’s going on, but she hugs me back regardless. I tuck her into my side and put on her favorite cartoons. I’m aimlessly scrolling on my phone when I catch a headline. It’s about me. I’ve kept away from the media this last week, too afraid of what I might read. It’s curiosity that makes me click.

I wish I hadn’t.

It’s a vicious tabloid piece with supposed “sources close to the family” who are calling into question my mental state and my ability to take care of my daughter.