Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
My family never went hungry, but even a multimillionaire would feel out of their comfort zone in this monstrosity.
“Wow.” I shift on my feet to face Macy. “This is…” With words eluding me, I shrug.
Macy musters a fake smile, but it does little to slacken the tension sparking in her eyes. “It’s a lot.” Her voice is tinged with a mix of nostalgia and bitterness. “But it isn’t my life anymore.”
I raise a brow and impatiently wait for her to elaborate. She inhales deeply while looking around as if she’s seeing the place for the first time. “When I became a part of the bureau, my parents weren’t exactly thrilled. My mother wanted me to follow in her footsteps, to take over the ‘family business.’” She air quotes her last two words. “But I wanted something different. I wanted to make a difference.”
Reading between the lines, I say, “You wanted to find your sister.”
I’m not asking a question, but she still agrees with me. Our stories are remarkably similar yet distinct. We have the means to find the people we’re seeking, but the conditions attached make the assistance useless.
Macy’s is in the form of money, and mine is in the form of protocols.
I return my focus to Macy when she continues. “My parents don’t hold back when they think they’ve been done wrong.”
I nod, the struggle all too familiar. “Is that why they cut you off?”
“As far as I’m aware.” Her smile gives off the vibe that she’s not affected by their decision, even though she is. “They stripped me of my inheritance and told me I was on my own. At first, it was hard, but I don’t regret it. Every day I spend at the bureau is another day I get closer to finding Kendall.”
I take her hand in mine and give it a reassuring squeeze. Before I can say that I too believe we’re getting close, a butler appears. He’s dressed in a crisp suit and looks every bit the part of a butler you’d expect the uber-rich to have.
“Miss Macy, Mr. Grayson.” He bows his head, beginning his greeting with a friendly gesture. “Welcome. Please follow me. I will show you to your room.”
As we shadow his brisk trek through the grand entrance, the opulence of the expansive foyer is almost overwhelming. The floors are marble, and nearly every wall holds expensive artwork. It’s a far cry from the modest apartment Macy and I have been sharing for the past two days.
The butler leads us up a staircase and down a long hallway before we stop in front of large double doors. He opens them to reveal a luxurious suite with a king-size bed, a sitting area, and a balcony that overlooks the gardens.
“Please make yourselves comfortable.” The butler dips his head before heading for the door. “The gala will begin in an hour. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you,” Macy replies, her voice polite but distant.
Once the butler leaves, I turn to Macy, my eyes wide.
“Please don’t say anything. It’s flashy but superficial. It doesn’t mean anything. This”—she waves her hand around the opulent suite—“couldn’t get Kendall back.” Her shoulders sink as she sighs. “They didn’t even try. The first forty-eight hours are critical, and they sat on their hands and whined about her being too spoiled to appreciate what she had.”
Understanding congeals my blood, but I also feel the need to defend myself and Tobias. “We did everything we could, Mace.”
“I’m not blaming you or the team assigned to her case. Truly, I am not. I just…” As her words fall into silence, she slumps onto the bed and then blows a wayward curl out of her eye. “They wouldn’t let me report her disappearance until three days after her abduction.”
I gasp, shocked. The first forty-eight hours are the most critical time for a victim. If they’re not found in that time frame, they’re generally not found. I’m just praying like fuck for an exception for Macy and me.
“They cut her funds off first and assumed she would come running home with her tail between her legs within hours. If I hadn’t gone to Kendall’s school, they may not have ever let me report her as missing.”
“You went to NYU because Kendall hadn’t replied to any of your texts,” I say, recalling the notes I took when we arrived at Kendall’s sorority house.
“Yeah. I called campus police against my parents’ wishes, and the rest snowballed from there.”
“You did the right thing.” I need her to know that her bending of the rules didn’t start back then. “If it were a kidnap for ransom, the ransom would have been received by then.”
Though my words offer her little comfort, it feels good to give them. I still recall the slap that stung Macy’s cheeks when any scent of Kendall’s location went stale fast. Mrs. Petersburg still believed Kendall would have come home eventually if Macy hadn’t scared her into thinking she would be falsely prosecuted for wasting police resources.