Before You Accuse Me Read Online Mary B. Moore

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
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I could see Christian Kent clearly in my mind. I had the same color hair as him, and maybe even the same nose and jawline. Other than that, I just couldn’t put two and two together to give me the biological answers of sharing his DNA.

“And Roy blackmailed you?”

Mom blinked back the tears that’d been threatening to spill as she answered the question. “Yes. Somehow, he found out about it and said if I didn’t help him, he’d take the DNA test results he had proving it to the news. I didn’t want that for you, so I said okay. You were still little at the time, and I could only imagine what that’d do to you. What if you got bullied at school? What if he tried to take you away from me?”

“What if little green men dropped out of the skies right now,” I spat. “You could have explained to us, so we were all prepared, instead of letting yourself get blackmailed and ending up in prison—which, FYI, we did get bullied and hauled through the news for.”

“It was a no-win situation. At the time, the solution I was offered made it possible for that not to happen to you, being hated and bullied for being the illegitimate child of a national icon. Instead, I got blackmailed a second time when Roy discovered that the people he’d stolen from were after him, and you ended up being bullied and featured on the news for daring to support your mom for crimes she didn’t commit.”

For a second time today, I was speechless. “What?”

“Yeah.” Her upper lip curled up in a sneer, but it wasn’t directed at me—more like she was doing it to herself. “You went through hell, and almost thirteen years of my life has been spent in here, away from the four people who are my whole life. Hell, two of them won’t even speak to me or answer my letters and calls, so I’ve lost something priceless while Roy fucking Green sits at home, eating what and when he wants, going wherever he wants and continues to fuck my life up.”

I couldn’t argue with her on those points. They were all valid. “What do you mean you didn’t commit those crimes, Mom?”

“I was a scapegoat. All I had to do was put my name on the paperwork for his investment firm so that it looked like it was mine. I gave him alibies, created distractions, and covered for his ass with everyone while pretending like we were together. Then, when shit got heated, he offered me enough money if I took the fall that I knew my kids would be able to buy themselves a house and have stability without pressure. All I had to do was do my sentencing like a good girl, and the money’s mine when I get out of here.”

“Jesus Christ,” I hissed, “don’t you think we’d rather have our mother? People get things called mortgages every day, Mom. It’s how most buy their properties. What you can’t put a value on is having your parent there, watching the biggest moments of your life, celebrating when it’s warranted, and holding your hand while you cry. You being in here stole way more from us—and you—than whatever amount of money would ever have given us.”

When she didn’t say anything, I began tapping my nails agitatedly on the table. “What about the other money? What’s that for?”

“I don’t have any other money. If I did, I’d have split it between you guys before I came in here.”

“I saw it with my own eyes, Mom. The bank account is in your name, and the transfer was on the paper.”

Glancing around us, Mom leaned in closer, getting the attention of one of the other guards and making her narrow her eyes as she watched what was happening.

“I’m telling you I have one bank account, the one you’ve got access to. I’ve never opened another one, not even a savings account.”

Not for the first time, I questioned how I’d missed that piece of paper when I’d been packing Mom’s stuff up all those years ago. My siblings had helped me, but we’d bought boxes with hanging files in them for all of the important paperwork, like bank statements and letters, legal letters, insurance, bills, etc. It wasn’t impossible, but it was strange that one of us had missed it, especially with that amount of money in the account.

“Where did that statement come from, then?”

Mom shot a tense smile at the guard who was still watching us, then turned back to me with a shake of her head. “I don’t know. Who went into the house after I was brought here?”

“Us, Grandma and Grandpa, the agent who listed the house, the plumber to fix that pipe in the bathroom upstairs….” I trailed off when I remembered something.


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