Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Now look at her.
Look at us.
Dad included.
“Lilah—”
“I gotta go.” I end the call and toss the phone onto my bed then wipe the tears from my eyes with shaking hands. I don’t need fake apologies from my mom or sad looks from my dad.
I need Jude.
20
“He knew her sins. He knew her softness. Only one of them frightened him.”—The Count of Monte Cristo
JUDE
I’ve been avoiding her on purpose. My feelings are all over the place, and it doesn’t help that I keep getting red envelopes sent to my apartment, all of them encouraging me to reach out to her, to find out the truth.
And tonight was no different.
I’d finally decided to talk to her when it was delivered.
“You can’t fake true love. You can’t trick the Dean. If your pasts stay buried, your love will never bloom—it will die along with everything else. Make your choice. This will be your last warning to come clean. Do you choose her or your revenge?”
I feel called out. And the only thing I can think to do is make good use of my hands since my brain is short circuiting, since my heart is telling me that I’m a piece of shit, since I keep seeing her face after I lost my temper. I had her in my arms, I had her so close to me, and I keep messing up.
“Thought I’d find you here,” comes the voice.
It’s not female.
It’s not the voice I’m used to hearing every night when I fall asleep. It’s not the voice that reads to me and calms me down.
It’s the voice nightmares are made of. “You mean in my studio? Near my office? At the class I teach?” I say dryly. “You’re a fucking genius, Dad.”
“Guess I deserved that.”
I snort. “You deserve a lot of things. Praise, even born out of mockery, annoys me. What do you want?” I slap the slab of clay onto the table to keep from punching him. “Did you come to send me to prison again or is that penciled in for next week? Just make sure I have enough time to plan before the knife goes in my back, okay?”
“Jude.” He says my name like a curse. Maybe to him it is. I hope so. “I didn’t come here to fight. I came to see how you were adjusting to your new job and make sure you’re comfortable.”
“You let me cry myself to sleep during every thunderstorm since I was three. I highly doubt you’re here to make sure I’m settling in. Out with it.”
“I made you strong.”
“You made me hate,” I snap. “So, I guess in a way sure, you made me strong so nothing could get in. And since right now you’re crawling out of the woodwork, there must be a reason.”
He sighs. “I’ll just come out with it then.”
I level him in an emotionless stare. “Please…be my guest.”
“Your mother was going to frame me for crimes I didn’t commit. She was also going to do the same to a few faculty members and let’s just say it would have gotten bloody ugly, very bad very fast. You took the fall because I couldn’t, and for that, I can’t thank you enough. I had no idea they would actually put you in prison, though, Jude. I got you out as fast as I could.”
Lies, lies and more lies. I keep staring, saying nothing.
He clears his throat. “It seems we’ve had several faculty members approach the board. They’re worried that they’re on some ledger, and some of them can’t afford to have their names anywhere near that kind of scandal.”
“The Dean’s List.” I sigh. “I’m not behind it, if that’s what you think. Whoever is behind it, though, seems to know a lot about me—us, the past. I’d be afraid if I were you, unless you’re the mastermind.” I smirk. “But I don’t think you’re smart enough to use it the way it’s being used right now, to flush out the bad, slowly, painfully, like sucking poison from a snakebite.”
His footsteps click against the cement floor as he walks closer. “If I had the list I’d destroy it. I don’t, but I need you to find out who it is and get it for me. You’ll, of course, be paid handsomely.”
I regard him, assessing. Then I release a humorless huff. “Don’t want your money, and that’s a no.”
“I’m not asking.”
I sigh. “You can’t touch me.”
“You’re right. I can’t. I can, however, touch her.”
I don’t have to ask who her is. I shrug and try to look unaffected while my heart slams against my chest.
“I’ll pin everything on her father, every last sin he helped me commit and at the end of the day I’ll make it so painful for her to live that she’ll think twice about why she even bothers.”