Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Noah glares at him, defiance flickering in his tear-filled eyes. “Fuck you,” he hisses, spitting in his face. “Fuck you.”
It’s all too much. I’ve caused this. I can’t—
I bolt from the room, my vision blurred by the tears that refuse to stop. My hands tremble as I fumble with my phone, forgetting my screen is broken. “Dammit.” Desperate to escape the chaos I’ve unleashed. I activate Siri, my voice quivering as I plead, “Call me an Uber.”
I don’t bother to slide on my shoes and race out of the house. My bare feet hit the pavement, and I race down the driveway, each step like a dagger thrusting into my heart. “I’m so sorry, Noah.” I choke on my own words. Regret suffocates me. Guilt. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. I clutch at my chest, desperate to contain the unbearable ache that feels like it might split me apart.
Car lights pause at the end of the driveway. The passenger side window rolls down, and a woman leans over. “Ride for Georgia?” I ask, fighting back the tears.
“Yes. That’s me.”
Unable to say anymore, I nod and climb into the back, shutting the door behind me.
Chapter twenty-seven
Jackson
Boom. Boom. Boom.
My heart pounds like a war drum, each beat echoing in my ear as my adrenaline courses through me. My grip on Noah’s shirt tightens until my knuckles turn white as I shove him harder against the wall. “Do you fucking hear me?”
“You’re seriously giving me parenting advice now? You’re a joke. A worthless father. Mom made the right move leaving you.”
“You can keep blaming me for everything, but maybe when you grow the fuck up, you’ll finally realize I’m not the bad guy—”
“You fucked her! You fucked her—why? Why her!?” The raw anguish in his voice cuts through me like a blade, each word a searing reminder of the choices I made. But, despite everything, he remains my son—a truth that wounds me deeper than any betrayal.
“Because I saw the same beauty you did. I needed her, too.”
My response falls from my lips, surprising us both. What am I doing? I don’t want to fight with him. Not like this. I loosen my grip, releasing him, and step back, the weight of my actions crashing over me. I turn to Georgia, desperate for a lifeline, but she’s gone. “Georgia?” I call out.
“If she knows what’s good for her, she fucking left,” Noah hisses.
I glance around. I’d barely been able to process Vince’s presence before taking that hit to the mouth, and now, he’s nowhere to be seen. “Where the fuck did Vince go?” I ask, my words laced with confusion and unease.
“Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about right now?”
“Where the fuck did he go?!” I roar in frustration, storming out of the room. Desperation claws at me as I move through the house, calling out for Georgia. I take the stairs two at a time and barrel through my door, hoping she sought solace in the safety of my room, but it’s empty. My hands shake as I pull out my phone and dial her number. It rings once before cutting to voicemail.
“Where are you? I need you back here.” I hang up. Noah is behind me.
“Let her go.” I ignore him and dial her again. This time, it doesn’t even ring. “I’m not fucking kidding. Get the fuck back here.” I disconnect and text her.
Me: Now is not the time to run. I need you here.
I lift my gaze to Noah. “Text Vince. Find out where he is.”
“No.”
“Fucking do it!” I take a threatening step toward him. “You’re mad, I get it. But right now is not the time to lash out. Find out where Vince is.”
“Why? What the fuck does he have to do with this aside from being the only one who was honest enough to tell—”
“He plans to fucking hurt her, that’s why!”
His bravado falters. “What?” he stammers, caught off guard.
“When I got back to the office, I met with Craig Stone,” I rush out.
“Why? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Talk fast,” I demand, throwing off my suit coat and sitting at my desk.
“The Hallsteads have been busy. Burt Hallstead lost everything when his programming failed to reach the next level and blew through every dollar he made trying to hire someone to recreate it.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“Burt tried to amend his losses. He landed the job with Terra Blueprint Consulting, but it was nowhere near lucrative enough to keep up with the lifestyle he created—”
“Craig, you’re wasting my fucking—”
“Burt may be broke and on the verge of a midlife crisis, but I don’t think he’s your guy.”
“What are you talking about? His fucking son tried to blackmail my girl.”
“Oh, the son’s guilty as fuck. A rap sheet a mile long. He’s definitely an accomplice, if not the driving force.” He tosses black and white images onto my desk. Screenshots from video footage.