Downstairs, I went straight to the kitchen. Whenever the hand on the clock was at seven, I knew it was time for dinner just like my Daddy taught me. I got closer and didn’t smell the yummy smells when my mommy cooked, or hear her humming a happy tune. I peeked inside the empty kitchen. The living room was empty too when I checked.
“Mommy?”
She didn’t answer.
Shealwaysanswered.
Upstairs, I called her name again and again until I heard a sound. I listened real hard, and the sound came again. It sounded like Mommy was crying. I was scared to know why, but since my daddy was gone, it was up to me to rescue her. I rushed to the door when I heard her cry again, but stopped when another sound, this time, harder and louder, drowned out her cries.
My eyes grew wide when I realized someone was in there hurting her. The door creaked when I opened it, and before I could peek inside, I remembered Daddy’s instructions to call him if someone was ever trying to hurt us.
I knew he would make the bad person go away, so I rushed for the stairs. I heard the door open before I could make it to the stairs. I kept running so they didn’t get me, but my mother’s voice calling my name stopped me. I turned around and found her rushing to tie her favorite blue robe. Her hands moved too fast so it took her three tries.
She looked so scared, but I didn’t see cuts or scrapes or blood like I got when I fell down and hurt. “Mommy! Are you hurt?”
Her bedroom door creaked again, and a tall man stepped out behind her. His jeans were unfastened, and he didn’t wear a shirt. When I finally looked at his face, I gasped and stepped back.
It was Uncle Art. I didn’t understand what was happening. Why would he hurt her? He was daddy’s best friend, and he always brought me toys.
“Sweetheart… honey… look at me,” my mother pleaded. I slowly did as she asked and found my mother’s eyes watering. “Have you called your father?”
I shook my head.
“Good. I know this looks bad, and I’m so sorry you had to see this.”
Should I tell her I didn’t see anything? She seemed so upset. Had I done something wrong by wanting to rescue her? “He was hurting you,” I blurted. I didn’t want to, but my gaze slid back up to Uncle Art. He stood behind my mother watching me silently. His gaze wasn’t cruel or scared, though. He just looked worried.
“No, baby. He wasn’t. He would never do that, do you understand?”
“But I heard you crying.” She flinched, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Uncle Art stiffen and then run his fingers through his hair.
“Listen to me, sweetie. I just need you to not say a word to your father about this. It would hurt him, and we don’t want that, do we?”
I shook my head so hard my pigtails hit my cheek and stung.
“Good, baby. Now Mommy just needs for you to forget. Can you do that?” I nodded, even though I wasn’t really sure I could.
Mommy sent me to my room. Tears spilled onto my pillow, and my chest hurt as I listened to them arguing downstairs. She was pleading with him that nothing had changed. The last thing I had heard before the door slammed was Uncle Art telling Mommy it was over. He never came back to visit.
Not even for Daddy.Chapter Fifty-EightOne cannot steal what’s already stolen.
ANGEL
PresentI sent Mianand Caylen home with Lucas and Z while I met with family lawyers to settle the estate.
Home.
It was easy to think Mian’s home was with me and hard to remember it wasn’t.
“Per the will, you are the sole heir of the Knight estate…” I tuned the lawyers out as they droned on with their legal garble. I would inherit a whole bunch of money, a big house, produce an heir, and not fuck it up. Yada yada…
My mind was stuck on my stepfather. Victor couldn’t keep his eyes off of Mian during the funeral and reception. I wanted to confront him, but there were too many eyes and ears around. I was confident the confrontation would have led to death. Instead, I hid Mian before Victor could get to her and decided against telling her anything to keep her from freaking out. It didn’t help that my mom had chosen that moment to discover Mian’s attendance. Luckily, Lucas had intercepted before I could.
Time dragged. but when the jargon finally stopped, I signed some papers, and they promised to be in touch. I didn’t waste time leaving the offices. My struggle to not put a bullet in Victor didn’t keep from me sensing Mian’s uneasiness when I sent her home. During the meeting, I had to force myself to ignore the demand in the pit of my stomach to go to her. As I jogged down the steps, I replayed what had happened between us upstairs. Nothing we said could have completely drained the color from her face. Something was up.