Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
She hesitates, clearly debating something with herself. I’m not sure what, but eventually she finishes off her wine and empties the last of the bottle into her glass. She swirls it and seems to come to a decision.
“When your mother died, there was a part of her will that I haven’t told anyone. Not even Declan knows about it.”
My eyebrows raise. “Really? You never talked about my mom’s will.”
“She made me swear never to talk about it. There was a letter. Your mother could be peculiar sometimes, but she was smart. If she tells me to keep a secret, I’m going to keep that secret until my dying day, but maybe it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
Sheila stands and finishes her glass. “Stay here. I’ll be back.” She walks off and disappears inside.
I watch her go, feeling confused and on edge. Anything that has to do with my parents is always really painful. It feels like there’s always another secret and a new problem to deal with. I wish Sheila would’ve told me everything so much sooner, but I can almost appreciate why she didn’t.
I had a good childhood. I mean, aside from losing both of my parents and becoming an orphan, life’s been surprisingly good. Sheila took great care of me, mostly thanks to Declan’s money and influence. But I didn’t know any of that. All I saw were soccer games, good schools, close friends, solid internships, and dozens of happy memories.
Now it’s all foggy and slightly twisted in my head, but still. All that good stuff happened. All that happiness was there. I can’t act like it wasn’t.
Sheila comes back a few minutes later. She sets an envelope down in front of me and collapses into her chair with a sigh. “One of the few things I saved from the fire,” she says and finishes off her wine.
“What is this?” I open the envelope and take out a small, simple key. It doesn’t look like it would unlock a door, though.
“That is the key to your mother’s safe deposit box.”
I stare, my heart rate doubling. “I didn’t know she had one.”
“Nobody does. I doubt your father even knew. She left me that key in her will and told me never to mention it to anyone under any circumstances unless your life was in immediate danger. And while there’s no gun to your head, I think it’s about time you took a look at what your mother left for you.”
“For me?” I hold the key up to the light. It’s surprisingly plain.
“She also made that clear. Whatever’s in that box is for you and you alone. I never opened it. Never even tried.”
“Mom left me this,” I say quietly to myself like I’m trying to believe it. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“Well, if you want my opinion, it’s pretty simple.” She leans back like she just got a huge weight off her shoulders. “You should go to the bank.”
Chapter 33
Casey
I’ve never been so nervous in my entire life. I’m alone in the bank’s back safe deposit room, practically bouncing all over the place. The older clerk smiles as she closes the door. “Take all the time you need, dear, and let me know if I can help with anything.”
The room’s filled with numbered slots. I hold my key up and stare at the little 39 engraved on the top. The corresponding box is one of the larger models but isn’t anything special. The key slips in and turns without issue, and I slide out the metal tray and carry it over to the long desk.
I’m afraid to open the top flap. Once I do that, I’ll know what’s inside, and what if Mom left me something terrible? What if she told Sheila to keep this from me for a reason?
But I can’t keep being terrified of the past. Senesi’s the perfect manifestation of all my nightmares coming together in real life. And if I can’t get past him, I’m going to be trapped in this vicious cycle forever.
I flip it open and stare.
There’s cash on the top. I don’t know how much. It’s a bundle of hundreds. Maybe a few thousand. There’s a gun next to them. It’s small and simple. I take it out and place it down on the table gingerly, afraid it might go off. Under that is a stack of passports. America, France, Germany, Italy, Senegal. The details inside are all blank like they’re waiting for someone with the right skill to come along and fill them out. Mom must’ve thought I’d need to get out of the country fast at some point.
Under that is a letter.
I stare at my name. Mom’s writing is legible and curly. It flows across the page at a slant. My eyes tear up, and I have to wipe them a few times before I can start to make sense of what she left me.