Page 81 of Envy
The scent of leather and spice banishes my worries as the heat of Silas’s body settles behind mine. His warmth cuts through the crisp chill of the early morning air, and some intrinsic part of me knows everything will be all right.
Memories of a poisonous flower from another life surface, and I thank God or fate or whatever is out there that I didn’t go through with it. Silas offers me comfort. Protection. Grants me infinite possibilities by simply believing in me. Seeing my strength even when I feel weak. Trusting in my courage when the only thing I want to do is hide. Silas’s hand presses against my waist, holding me tight, reminding me that despite all the shit that’s happened, I still have a family. Not the one I was born into, but a better one. A loving one.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath, pulling me closer. Morana sits behind Erik, Serena’s small frame eclipsed by Mavros’s giantform. The rest of the Seven fan out in front of us, light laughter and soft chatter ringing through the mics. The sun rises in the clear blue sky, and nothing but open road stretches before us.
“I will be, little fox. For the first time in a long time, I think I will be.”
EPILOGUE: EVIE
One month later
The beeping monitors stop as the nurse disconnects the tangle of wires from my mother’s hand. I’ve stayed away, not sure what I would say to her. Or if I even wanted to talk to her after everything that’s happened. The investigation involving my stepfather and Jonathan’s deaths closed last week—a murder-suicide between guilty members of the church involved in money laundering and sex trafficking.
The FBI arrested dozens of people, closing the church and the Blue Lagoon until further notice. This past week has felt like a dream. One filled with justice and relief, knowing sick assholes like them are off the streets. The judge only granted them a handful of years, but Silas assures me none of the perverts will be leaving prison alive.
With Roy and Jonathan officially having a cause of death, it also means it’s time to settle the financial aspects of their wills, not that I want anything from either of them. Still, I need all ties connecting me to my old family cut. So, I’m here, sitting in Mother’s hospital room.
“By all means, take your time,” Mother snaps, glaring at the nurse as she unplugs the leads over her heart.
My spine stiffens, Silas’s hand gripping mine for support. “The nurse has it under control,” he says, pressing his lips to my cheek.
Sure enough, the nurse gives my mother a sanguine smile before ripping off the last adhesive with more force than necessary. Mother flinches, cursing, but the nurse gives me a wink on the way out, not bothering to conceal her smirk.
“I’ll let the lawyer know you’re ready.”
“Trisha, darling,” a familiar voice calls, making the fine hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“Breathe,” Silas murmurs, thumb rubbing across the back of my hand as Dean Whitehouser—my biological father—precedes the lawyer into the room.
“I tried to come in sooner, but they wouldn’t let me,” he says, taking my mother’s hand. “I’m here now, my sweet.”
“Gross,” I mutter, earning a curious glance from the lawyer.
She’s young for someone in her profession, maybe mid-thirties, with dark blonde hair and kind, clever blue eyes.
“I’m Morgan and will be handling the distribution of assets today. Let’s get started, shall we?” she says, handing my mother and me identical folders. “Inheritance can be a touchy subject for the recently deceased’s family, especially when the contents of the will were altered so close to an untimely passing.”
My brows furrow as I glance up to find my mother glaring at me with suspicion.
“A delay was needed to verify said documents,” Morgancontinues. “But now that cause of death, fault of death, and all legal matters are settled, we can proceed.”
Mother sits straighter in the hospital bed, plastering on the expression that’s earned her a running tab of condolences.
“Either way,” Silas whispers to me as the lawyer continues to speak, his fingers gently tilting my chin until I meet his gaze, “I’ve got you covered. School, housing, if you want to drop out and travel. Anything. You’re set.”
The green of his eyes simmers with warmth, something I’ve come to learn is just for me. We’ve discussed our future at length. I appreciate that Silas wants to care for me in every way he can. It’d be foolish not to take him up on his offer. I know it’s genuine. No catch. No hidden ties that would come back to strangle me. But a part of me is still holding on to the hope that I’ll be able to take my place beside him. As an equal.
“Henceforth,” Morgan says, seeming to wait for us to tune back in, “the funds will be dispersed as such—to my wife, I leave our main residence, the San Diego estate, with a monthly stipend to maintain staff and other expenses.”
Morgan hands a paper attached to a clipboard and pen to Mother. “Sign on the highlighted line.”
She does. Morgan tucks the document into a folder before turning to me.
“To my daughter?—”
“Wait,” Mother cuts in. “That’s it? What about the villa in Italy? The vacation home in Florida, Spain, or the one in Brazil? They’re rightfully mine.”