Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“Hi, this is Dru. I’m Finnian Reins’ fiancée. His ex-wife just tried to kidnap me, and she was hit by a golf cart and will probably need an ambulance. Both legs at minimum are broken.”
The screaming continued, and all I could think about was “good. Maybe she’ll die.”
She didn’t die.
She did, however, have to go into surgery.
Mr. Worth was officially my favorite person.
After we both gave our statements, I took Dru home to clean up her wounds.
And after she was well and truly clean, I sat her in a seat next to my desk in my office and got to work figuring out why Aurora tried to kidnap Dru.
“What’d you find?” she asked as she ate a bowl of ice cream next to me.
“I haven’t gotten in yet.” I tossed her a look. “I literally just signed into my computer.”
She batted her eyes. “Okay.”
It took me fifteen minutes to get into her messages, and what I found had me shaking my head. “All she wanted was Tavi’s life insurance.”
“What?”
“She was talking with a friend, and she thought that if she had you, I’d be more willing to give her the money.” I sighed. “I’m getting really fuckin’ tired of dealing with this family bullshit. First your sister. Now my ex-wife.”
She gestured at the computer with her spoon. “Just anonymously forward it to the cops. Then let’s go take a shower and go to bed.”
“It’s only eight,” I said. “And I’m not tired.”
She wiggled her brows at me. “No one said we had to go to sleep, Finnian. I think we both need to forget the day, and the only way to do that is to get lost in each other.”
“Now that, I can do.”
Three weeks later
My ex-wife was now in prison with two broken legs with a pending trial date for the following month.
That trial would never come.
As I typed away, I hid her in the system, knowing that people would forget about her after her case wasn’t sitting directly in front of them. Hopefully, everyone would forget she ever existed.
The murder/suicide, however, wouldn’t be forgotten.
It wasn’t often that a lobbyist lost his shit and murdered two women on the front porch of an ex-state representative.
Luckily, I knew how to make things disappear on the net.
I also had a team of people who were wiping the stories out just as fast as they popped up.
As for my future wife, she wasn’t too broken up about everything.
She was doing well, and the only worries she had now was when I would pop the question.
After hiding the last trace of Aurora, I closed down my computer, then switched to my monitors and watched my wife work.
Only when she was really lookin’ like she was dragging did I have Chevy drop her ring on her desk with a muffin that said, “Will you marry me?”
It took her ten minutes to find it.
And when she did, she opened the box, slipped the ring onto her finger, grabbed the muffin, then looked up at the camera in the corner of the nurses’ station and said, “Yes!”
Epilogue I
Maturing in marriage is realizing that your husband isn’t going to get tired of you. He’s been eating the same Subway sandwich since he was nine.
—Text from Dru to Apollo
APOLLO
Two years later
“It’ll be okay.”
My wife looked over at me with a nervous expression and said, “I know. I’m still freaking out, though.”
“Come on,” I said as I led her up the steep mountain road to a cabin set so deep in the woods that it was hard to find even for Google.
We pulled to a stop and a large mountain man exited the front door, a ferocious scowl on his face.
But the moment he saw who stepped out of the passenger seat, his entire face softened.
He took the steps two at a time as she went running toward the man.
He caught her and whirled her around in his arms.
When he finally put her down onto her feet, she whispered, “Hey, Romeo.”
Epilogue II
Someone taking your parking spot at your own home is a different type of anger.
—Dru’s secret thoughts
DRU
Seventeen years later
“Heaven help me,” I muttered as I walked down the stairs of the cabin we’d rented for the weekend.
We were one of four houses, and we were sharing our cabin with Chevy, Aella, and their three kids.
The adults had gotten the top floor, and the kids had gotten the bottom.
Since we trusted them all, we let them all share the downstairs.
The only thing I’d thought we’d have to worry about was damages in the form of broken walls and or windows—having teenage boys was a ton of fun.
I went down the length of the stairs, picking up wet swimsuits, Dr Pepper cans, and enough empty chip bags to make me want to scream.
When I got down to the bottom, I stuffed all the trash in the overfilling trash bag, emptied it, then set it at the base of the stairs to carry up with me later.