Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 19570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
“That was years ago,” he says, shrugging with difficulty. “Didn’t work. Has nothing to do with what’s happening here.”
“I disagree.”
I strike him across the face with the barrel, then step back and fire one more round—this time into his other shoulder. He screams, collapsing against the legs of the table like a man who knows he’s being kept alive on purpose.
The sirens are closer now. Voices shouting commands outside.
I leave him there.
“Put your hands up!” a voice blares through the megaphone. “Put your hands up and walk forward!”
I oblige, stepping through the front door and into the chaos.
“Stay right there, sir! Stay right there!”
Do they hear themselves? I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Miss Poole approaches with two officers flanking her. Her eyes narrow the moment she sees me.
“Cuff him,” she orders. “For what should be the last and final time.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” I say as one of the officers secures my wrists behind my back.
“You think you’re walking away from murder charges?”
“I prefer the phrase fly away, and yes.” I glance sideways at her. “Nice seeing you again. My lawyer will be meeting us shortly, so I wouldn’t waste any time with your questions.”
“Mr. Rochester,” she says, sharp as ever. “I can personally guarantee you won’t be getting away this time.”
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I’m going to enjoy every second of the years you spend in custody.”
“I recorded everything using one of the trackers you gave Miss Jane.” I nod to my coat pocket. “Last I checked, there’s no statute of limitations on murder.”
“Exactly.”
“Then I’ll be out in an hour,” I say. “This was clearly self-defense.”
“I still have questions.”
“I’m sure you do,” I reply. “But we both know I won’t be answering them.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right, Mr. Rochester.”
“I experienced sixteen wrongs.” I meet her gaze head-on. “I barely broke even with what I did today.”
“But the fire at your estate—”
“I didn’t stop it,” I say as they guide me toward the patrol car. “But I never started it.”
End of Episode 13
How it Goes
EPISODE 14
Autumn
The gate swings open slowly as I pull into the estate, revealing the long, winding driveway bordered by manicured hedges and glowing lanterns. The house in the distance is lit like a beacon, tucked between the hills as if it’s been guarding my return.
For the first time, it feels like home.
But even as that warmth creeps into my chest, worry tugs at the edges of my thoughts. I haven’t heard from Ryder since the job began, and I don’t know if everything went to plan.
“Welcome back, Miss Jane.” Gunnar opens the back door for me and reaches for my hand. “There’s someone very excited to see you again.”
I look past him and see Adele smiling in the doorway, her eyes looking hopeful.
I rush to her and pull her into my arms, hugging her.
“I’m so happy you’re back here.”
She steps back, beaming and talking a mile a minute. “Let me show you the new practice room my dad installed last week. It’s way better seeing it in person.”
She grabs my hand and welcomes me back into her world like I never left.
Later that night, I pull a blanket over Adele while she sleeps. I press a kiss on her forehead and slip out of the room.
I call Ryder, but it goes straight to voicemail, and an uneasy feeling coils tight in my chest.
I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the call button like it might change something. I try again.
Still nothing.
A dull panic scratches at the edge of my thoughts.
I walk around the house, looking for Gunnar.
“Good evening, Miss Jane,” he says when I find him. “For the record, Mr. Rochester would prefer if I sent someone out to get you anything, if that’s what you’re about to ask.”
“Where is he?” I ask instead. “I just want to know if he’s coming back anytime soon…”
“I don’t know.”
“Did something happen?”
His eyes meet mine, uncertain—like he’s weighing whether he can trust me.
“He’s with the feds right now,” he says. “It’s a waiting game, like always.”
“How long is the typical wait?”
“Could be days, weeks, months.” He shrugs. “It all depends, but… he did manage to send me a message for you. I was about to bring it.”
“What is it?”
“Take care of Adeline for me.”
Two nights later
I’m going over the school drive routine with Gunnar, listening to him talk me through Adeline’s morning schedule since I’ll have to fall in line with it on Monday.
As I jot down the part about not pulling out of the parking lot until three of his guards give me the signal, the front door opens.
Ryder steps in. His eyes find mine immediately.
His expression is unreadable—not the look of a man whose plans succeeded.
And for a half second, it feels like we’re back at square one.
Like he’s looking at me as nothing more than an accessory to the house. An employee.