Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
She and Birdee had come into my and my father’s lives when I was barely eight.
From the moment my father had met her, he’d declared that it was love at first sight. Both for Birdee and my stepmother.
At first, I thought it was great, too.
But I’d quickly realized that Birdee would be the prodigal daughter while I was just barely second fiddle.
“I’m sorry that you went to all the trouble to invite me,” I lied. “But I will not be dining with Birdee.”
“Don’t be a fucking baby,” Birdee said from her perch on the expensive chair that barely dipped under her weight. “I think it’s time to stop acting like a child and instead focus on the rift in our family.”
“Focus on the rift in our family that you created?” I asked, getting really freakin’ angry. “The one where you slept with my boyfriend of four years, lied about it when I found out. Stole my life savings, then drove to the airport where you used my ID to get on a flight that I’d booked and paid for. Taking you to my honeymoon. And while you were at it, going to the leasing office of my apartment and terminating my lease?”
I’d gotten stood up at my own wedding. When I’d left the venue to go home, I’d found that my place had been cleaned out and the locks changed. When I’d gone to call my dad, I’d found out that my cell phone had also been turned off.
It’d been a hellacious eight months, and she was going to sit here and act like she hadn’t just ruined my life?
I’d lost my job because I couldn’t get to work. Did I forget to mention she’d also sold my car? Forging my name on the title to get some cash to hold her over while she and my ex-fiancé spent our honeymoon in Bora Bora? At least she had to buy her own ticket to Bora Bora and her lodging, since I managed to cancel a few things.
I’d lost my apartment.
All of my things—including every stitch of clothing that I’d owned.
I’d had to literally start over from scratch, and she was wanting me to “just let it go?”
I think, the fuck, not.
Birdee’s face showed pure shock.
“Listen, Mother,” I said, jaw set in stone. “I don’t want anything to do with Birdee. I don’t want to talk to her, see her, or even hear her from a distance. If you want us to reconcile, that’s your mistake. Because there’s no reconciliation on my end.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” my “mother” drawled. “You’re being a little extra, aren’t you?”
No, no I wasn’t.
The only reason I’d agreed to this farce was because I was desperate for some freakin’ food that wasn’t cooked by my own hand. I hadn’t been able to afford to go out since the night before my almost-wedding.
I was, however, a few months away from getting all of my money back.
I was lucky to have a great friend who was a lawyer.
She’d taken my case pro bono and was in the process of suing the pants off of Birdee.
She may not have any money, but my stepmother did.
The only reason she was likely here was to try to talk me down from the lawsuit.
I would never be talked down.
In fact, if I could bring more on, I would.
Cody, my best friend, assured me that I was going to win.
I didn’t care if I won, to be honest. What I did care about was making sure that she hurt for what she did to me.
“Don’t you want to know where your dog is?”
I froze at that, turning around so slowly that it was almost comical.
My eyes narrowed on the smug look on Birdee’s face, and I had to physically stop myself from launching myself across the superbly set table and raking my fingernails down her arrogant looking face.
“What are you saying, Birdee?” I asked carefully, trying and failing to control the temper that was about to be set loose.
“Oh, nothing.” She hummed. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
This. Fucking. Bitch.
“What did you do with my dog?” I asked.
“I didn’t do anything with it.” She shrugged. “It’s such a shame that he went missing, though, isn’t it? Such a beautiful, distinct looking dog. What was he again? A brindle mastiff? Or was that a bulldog? I can’t remember.”
It was a sable mastiff.
Which she fucking knew because she’d grown up in a house that had housed them.
My dad had been breeding mastiffs for show since before I could walk, and hadn’t stopped when my stepmother and stepsister came into the picture.
Brawny.
God, I missed him.
It’d been an awful six months without him, and every day I wished someone would call me with the news that they’d found him.
I answered every single phone call that came my way. I’d even fought tooth and nail to get my old phone number back just in case the new phone number that I was forced to get—thank you again, Morris, you asshole, for insisting that we share an account and then refuse to give me my line back—didn’t reach me.