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Because if I’m not, Adonis just showed me an account with over ten million dollars in it and told me it’s mine.

Ten million, six hundred thousand dollarsto be exact.

“What do you mean you opened it for me? Why is my name on it?”

“Because it’s yours.”

“How?”

An excruciating throb joins the pain already punishing my head.

“It’syours, Delilah.” His voice is sure. Confident, even. But I still don’t get it. “I took it from the men who took something from you. Give me time and it’ll be more, I promise.”

Three times. That’s how many times I open and close my mouth. The words aren’t there. Not until the fourth time.

“Did you get my brother to return my inheritance or something?”

The chances of my father having more than six figures in his account when he died are razor thin. But still…

Adonis cocks his head. “What inheritance?”

Why does he look confused? “The one I agreed to give Wes so he wouldn’t turn me in.”

“Any money your dad had left was used to settle debts after he died. The rest went to Weston, and it wasn’t that much.” His frown adds to my unease. “But Delilah, you weren’t in your father’s will.”

I snatch my hand away when he tries to cover it with his own.

“Baby, your father changed his will six weeks before you killed him. There was no inheritance. Weston played you.”

Chapter 42

Golden Hour

DELILAH

A YEAR AND SOME CHANGE AGO

“Forty-one, eighty-nine,” the cashier’s cheery smile doesn’t dim when I hand over the worn fifty-dollar bill.

It’s all the money I have and if I’d kept it in my hand a second longer, it would have been too soggy to present to anyone. While they count my change, I wipe my hand on the soft material of my skirt and dart my eyes around the front of the grocery store. Since I walked in, my attention hasn’t strayed far from the automatic doors. Any moment now, I’m waiting for a familiar face to walk through and cut my impromptu trip short.

But it doesn’t happen.

Not when the cashier gives me my change.

Not when I decline a bag.

And not when I drop the coins in a box marked for a children’s charity.

Outside the grocery store, the sun beats down on me with a vengeance. Luckily, it’s not as high in the sky as it was when I first left the house. My mouth tastes like I’ve been chewing chalk and my stomach rumbles in protest of the money I just spent on flowers I can’t consume. There’s a Burger King across the parking lot, but I settle on the vending machine a few feet away from me.

I need to stretch this last seven dollars as far as I can. As tempting as a burger and fries are, it would wipe me out.

So, I walk over to the machine to study my options.

“Strawberry Crush.” There’s awe in my voice as I read the price beside it. “I don’t know what that is, but now I need to taste it.”

After fighting with the machine to accept one of my dollar bills, I finally have the ice-cold reward for my efforts in my palm. Then I tuck my last six dollars in my bra and start the last leg of my trip.