Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Jude’s hand tightens around mine and I stroke it, gulping.
“If you’re reading this, then I’m dead. What a fucking shame. This better happen when I’m eighty or something or I’ll cut a bitch. And no, lawyer, you can’t take that out.” Lawrence pauses and sighs.
Kane, Jude, and I smile because that sounds exactly like something Preston would write.
“First things first,” Lawrence continues. “I want to announce from the podium of my ashes that Satan’s lover, also known as Lilith Armstrong, with Satan being my dad—if you know, you know—is a terrible mother and stepmother and should totally be burned at the stake. But that’s my two cents. If I turn into a ghost, you better count your days.”
Lilith’s cheeks turn red, her hands balled into fists.
Jude smiles and whispers, “He always calls her Satan’s lover, never by her name.”
Oh.
“Moving on.” Another sigh from Lawrence. “Jude and Kane are my bros and the only family I have. Sorry, not sorry if the Armstrong clan is listening; I just didn’t say that before because I didn’t want to be cut out of the will. Well, now, I’m leaving everything in my name to them. Live and drink, and most importantly, slash the fuck out of shit for me. Hey, Jude. Kill one or two people on my death anniversary so I can have some toys in hell, would you?”
Jude’s smile is sad, and I hold on to him tighter.
“There’s a lot of Preston’s shenanigans that are not meant for polite company,” Lawrence says with yet another sigh.
“No, come on.” Atlas tries to peek. “What did that little shit say about me? More importantly, what did he say about you? It must be scathing. I want to hear.”
“That’s not important.” Lawrence cuts him off with a glare, flipping to the last page. “What is important, however, is this.”
He stands straight, throws a fleeting glance at his mother, and then reads on, “Oh, I have an interesting anecdote. A while ago, I met the girl Jude’s been obsessing over, but he can’t just admit he likes her, so his best option was to stalk her. Not that I’m judging my bro. Anyway, her name is Violet Winters, and ever since I saw her at the hospital, I felt something strange about her. Time went by, and she abandoned her Sleeping Beauty era, and even came to study at GU! And color me surprised when that strange feeling grew instead of diminishing. She’s sitting there, right? By the way, hi, Violet. If Jude doesn’t treat you right, I’ll haunt him. Anyway, everyone. Look at her freaking eyes! You can’t tell me they don’t seem familiar.”
Everyone in the room directs their attention to me, and I think I see disdain in Marguerite’s and Lilith’s gazes, while Atlas narrows his eyes on me and Winston stares, unblinking.
“She’s one of us, isn’t she?” Lawrence reads on. “She has part of Grandpa’s heterochromia that his descendants share. Uncle Atlas and I have the green. Dad, Miley, and Violet…you guessed it—they have the blue. Though Dad has some green. Anyway, I have no evidence, but I’m sure she might have some relation to us. Now, who of you could have possibly spawned her? Is she my sister, my cousin, or my aunt—”
“This is complete and utter nonsense.” Marguerite stands up, making Lawrence halt.
“Sit down, Mother,” Atlas says with no change of expression. “Lawrence is not done.”
“I will not sit here and listen to some unfounded speculations about a rat from the streets.”
Jude’s about to stand up, but I hold on to his hand and say in a clear voice, “I’m not a rat from the streets. I’d appreciate it if you don’t call me names just because you can.”
Jude caresses my shoulder, giving me a soft look as if he’s proud of me. In reality, I’m not sure if I’d have this courage if he weren’t right by my side.
A cane bangs against the carpet. Winston doesn’t have to say anything. Just the crack of his cane, and his wife sits down, touching her pearls, then says, “This is entirely absurd.”
Lawrence tilts his head to the side. “How so, Mother?”
“How so? You can’t just believe your deranged son’s rhetoric. That boy was mentally unwell, and we all knew it. Why are you even considering his ramblings?”
“Because I did a DNA test.” Lawrence drags a black leather folder from the top of the desk and places it on the coffee table in front of us. “First, Violet and me. As you can see, we share approximately twenty-five percent of our DNA, meaning we share a close familial relationship. Half-sibling, to be more specific. Then I performed another DNA test that shows Violet shares fifty percent of her DNA with Father, and there’s a ninety-nine point nine percent chance of him being her biological father.”