Doin' A Dime (Souls Chapel Revenants MC 4)

Well… it would be protected if she hadn’t had me looking into her.

Now, the idea of her taking money out of that account irked me.

Who was she? Was she a good person?

I wasn’t sure that she was.

Based on the attorney information I was able to pull up thirty minutes later, seems ol’ batshit crazy aunt would be kicked to the curb soon. If the girl—Wyett Alara Villin—had anything to say about it.

Well, I had something to say about it.

But first, I had a few things to do.

She would be perfect.

Thinking quickly, I went through everything, and composed an online ad just for her.

I’d post it to the ad sites around social media—but only she would be the one to see it.

Other applicants need not reply. I was only wanting one.

Live-in property & pet caretaker needed. Four-year minimum. Background check required. Generous compensation. Marriage of convenience required.

My eyes scanned the ad that I’d placed in the document.

Then searched for any hidden errors but found none.

This would work.

I knew it would.

I’d carefully selected one candidate. I’d narrowed it down from four to one.

I knew, without a doubt, it would work. I just had to set this up where it would be a perfect solution for her. Therefore, I was waiting for her to turn twenty-five when I knew she was going to take steps against her aunt.

“Listen, Mom,” I said. “I have to go. I have some things to do. Talk to you later. Bye.”

CHAPTER 1

What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever broken. If you say condom, you’re going to hell.

-Wyett’s secret thoughts

WYETT

“You are seriously the most selfish little bitch I’ve ever met,” my aunt Stella sneered. “I gave you a roof over your head. I gave you food and care when you needed it most. I gave you a life, Wyett.”

“You sent me to boarding school on my dead parents’ dime,” I countered. “That doesn’t fucking count.”

“Language,” she hissed.

My brows rose. “So, you’re allowed to say ‘bitch’ but I’m not allowed to say ‘fucking?’”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m allowed to say whatever the hell I want, because I’m the elder here. You’re just a little pissy girl who doesn’t like when she doesn’t get her way.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Is that what you think?”

“That’s what I know,” Stella countered.

I was already shaking my head.

“Here’s what I’m really mad about,” I said, leaning forward on the couch that Stella had purchased with my parents’ life insurance policies. “I know that you wouldn’t have anything in this house if it wasn’t for my parents.”

Stella’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

It was true, too.

My parents’ will stated that in the event of their death, I was supposed to go to my uncle Deighton. Only, they hadn’t planned on my uncle being with them when they died. They also never expected my aunt Stella to crawl out of the hidey hole she’d been brooding in for ten years because of some ‘slight’ my dad had made against her and petition my mom’s best friend for custody of me.

Because, if they had, they would’ve gone above and beyond to name my mom’s best friend, Andromeda, as custodian of me in the event that my uncle Deighton died.

Except, they hadn’t expected Stella to give a shit.

Only, watching over me and taking me into her care also meant that I came with a shit ton of money, money which Stella did want.

Needless to say, Stella’s lavish lifestyle was something in which she relished.

Something in which I’d had no choice but to allow because I didn’t have control over my trust funds until the age of twenty-five.

But, as of this morning at twelve, I was now not only twenty-five years old, but I was also kicking her ass to the curb.

At least, I was trying to, anyway.

She wasn’t taking too kindly to the change.

She stared at the lawyer’s papers that I’d had drafted up at the age of twenty-two and had perfected over the last three years.

It was, I hoped, iron clad.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” she said.

I didn’t fucking care.

“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’ve so graciously given you six months to find a place to live.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“I don’t have a job,” she countered.

This is probably the part where I should feel really sorry about the fact that I’m kicking my jobless aunt out of my house. But I didn’t feel sorry, not one single bit.

When she took me in at the age of fifteen, I’d done my level best to be the ‘good girl’ that she wanted me to be.

Only, she’d hated me on sight.

Why? Because I was the spitting image of my mother, whom she hated with all her heart.

Why did she hate my mother so much? I had no clue. But I knew the hate my mother experienced every time that she was around Stella, because I had experienced the same damn thing every time I came close to her.