Page 16
Story: Vow of Vengeance
CHAPTER 16
Ophelia
While deciding between answering the phone and attempting to flush it down one of Haze’s fancy toilets that flush with the power of a jet engine, I hear a faint voice calling out my name from my lap. “Ophelia! Ophelia! Is that you?”
I fly the phone up to my ear. “Mom, is that you?”
“Yes. It’s me!” Relief floods through me to hear her voice. “Are you okay? You sound a little shaken up.”
“Do I?” My voice comes out high and squeaky. I take a beat, calm down, and tell my voice to chill. “I didn’t recognize the number.”
“I saw the missed call on the landline and called you back from my cell. I wanted a little privacy from the grandparents,” she laughs. “You know I wouldn’t be able to get a word in if they knew you were on the phone.”
I can picture Grandpa and Grandma reaching for one another, taking the phone out of one another’s hands as they try to get my attention. Then, I picture an angry Haze storming through the bedroom door to find me on the phone. I have to make this quick.
“Mom, I only have a minute?—”
Before I can say another word, her words come out fast and furious. “Baby, I need you to know I did NOT steal that money. I don’t even have a dating profile! But I’m not innocent. I know who did, and I allowed it to happen?—”
“What? Are you serious?” My hand goes to my forehead as I gape at the quilt, her words setting in. How does she even know I know about all that?
“My worry for your education and my desire for you to finish at the same school you started so close to graduation clouded my judgment.” My mom exhales a deep breath, then makes her confession. “I let it happen. I accepted the money. I paid your tuition.”
“I don’t understand…” My heart is in my throat. “How did this happen? Who stole the money?”
She waits too long and says, “I can’t say.”
“Mom, you have to tell me?—”
“I don’t know. Honestly.” I believe her. Still, she needs to help me figure this out. “Mom, you have to find out who did this. Can you—I don’t know, call the dating site? Then try to get in somehow? Maybe you can call the company and tell them you lost your login?”
“I’ll try.” She redirects the conversation. “We’ve been very fortunate. Instead of repercussions, the Bachmans have been so generous as to forgive us and grant you this trip to study abroad.”
I play it cool. “Is that what the dinner you were invited to was about?”
“Yes, the one at the Villa. We met with Liam Bachman that night. He said we didn’t have to tell you about what we had stolen, but I saw that look on your face in the kitchen the other morning when I told you tuition had been paid. You knew something was up, and you were right.”
“Yeah, that was weird. We went from losing the scholarship to paying in full.”
She sighs, and the sound makes me picture her sitting on her bed, a world away from me, shaking her head as she says, “I don’t like keeping things from you.”
So, at the dinner, my family was told a massive lie about my whereabouts and called out for their theft. They have no idea how lucky they were to make it out alive.
Lucky for whoever did steal that money, Haze had something he wanted in return.
I keep up the ruse, asking questions. “They told you they knew you took the money?”
“Yes, at the dinner. Liam was lovely. And the Villa—it’s gorgeous! You have to see it one day. We had appetizers and wine and a fabulous conversation, but then we all sat down for dinner, and Liam got this serious tone and dropped the bomb. He looked around the table and said that someone from our family had accessed Harrison Bachman’s bank account and withdrew cash.”
“He did?”
“Yes! My heart was racing, and I was afraid the police would come. After he forgave us, I thought I would sink into their Persian carpet right then and DIE! I wanted to run from the room, but he moved on without asking questions. Liam said the tuition payment we made with Haze’s money would take care of your classes, and the Bachman family scholarship would pay off all costs of your living and travel, along with spending bonuses.”
I want to ask her why they would give me a trip if we stole from them. It doesn’t make sense—the powerful, dangerous Bachmans. If you steal from them, they will have their revenge. If Mom didn’t create that dating profile, catfish, and rob Haze, then who did?
I want to tell her the truth: Her daughter is being held captive and will be married off to make up for their theft. However, I don’t dare risk telling them the truth. They could do something foolish in retaliation, and I won’t do anything to endanger them.
“They said all was forgiven, and when they were looking into the internet address of the user as they traced the dating profile, they did a little snooping on you and saw that you were a scholarship student and perfect for their program. Figuring we must be desperate to steal from them, they turned the other cheek and picked you!”
“So that’s how I got this amazing opportunity.” My voice is flat.
Mom’s too happy with my traveling to pick up on my tone. “I can’t believe we’re in different time zones when we’ve never been in separate towns. What’s the difference? An hour?”
Crap. I have no idea. And there’s no Google search on this phone. “Umm…”
She moves on. “Let’s see, I’m checking your itinerary. Grandma posted it on the front of the fridge the second we got home from the Bachmans. You are currently in your hotel in London, right?”
I hate lying.
I’m not in a hotel room. I’m in the guest bedroom of a dangerous man who put a vibrating plug in my ass last night—a man who is going to make me his wife.
Because my mother let someone steal his money.
“London,” I say. “Mmm.”
She takes my mmm as a yes. Her voice is filled with excitement. “You’ll be sightseeing tomorrow with other students on the tour of Oxford. Is this your hotel room phone number? I know they said your cell may not work well over there.”
I laugh, knowing that a white lie about cell coverage was all it took for my tech-challenged family to accept that I’m not calling from my phone. I honestly have no idea how they’re running the television without me.
Mom says, “I’ll save this number as a contact?—”
“Don’t save this number—” I quickly think of a non-lie truth. “We’ve been told we won’t get much phone time.”
“It’s okay. You don’t need to be spending time on the phone anyway. You need to be out there being young, having fun, trying new things, kissing boys, having all the experiences I never got to. Live it up!”
I hate when she says stuff like that. The mom-to-daughter translation is processing in three… two… one…
“I need to live vicariously through you because I got pregnant with you by your father when I was young and single and free and had my whole life ahead of me, and the last thing I wanted was to be tied down by a baby (you) and a man (your father) that I didn’t love.”
What if I loved my father? Does she ever think about that? The only thing I know is that he had me clutched to his chest, holding me tight in his arms moments before he was killed.
She goes on, excited for my fake adventures. “Take every opportunity they give you. See as much of the world as you can.”
My heart sinks. I don’t even desire to travel. I’m a homebody. I barely leave my circle of school, work, small town for the movies and shops, and home.
A place like the Villa suits me. It is self-contained and equipped for all my needs, and it has the most beautiful setting I’ve ever seen. I glance out the window, seeing the snow-capped mountains behind the lake.
I'd never want to leave if I came here under other circumstances.
And this room he prepared for me. I look around at the luxury. It’s so beautiful.
A wee well of loyalty for Haze springs up in me. Someone humiliated him and stole a ton of money. I don’t let her off this easy. I want the truth. “If you didn’t scam Haze, who did? And where is the rest of the money?” I ask.
Haze said we owed ten times that.
“The rest of it?” she says. Her tone is straightforward and honest. She has no idea how much was stolen. “I don’t know what you mean. I was only given the tuition payment.”
Not only did my mom NOT make the profile, but she won’t tell me who did, who stole the money, and whoever stole it didn’t tell her how much they took. There’s no time to investigate further.
I ask my last pressing question. “Mom, have you seen Carter around?”
“Carter? Not since I last saw him sneaking out your bedroom window at six a.m. the day I took you for the IUD. Speaking of, please, use protection! There could be all kinds of different STDs you could be exposed to while traveling.”
“Gross, Mom.” I’ve never told her I’m still a virgin. Heat flashes over my face, thinking I won’t be for much longer, and she had a hand in putting me in this predicament. “I don’t think you need to worry about that—” The bell chimes, cutting off my words. My heart pounds. He’s home. “Mom, I’ve got to go!”
“Go! Go! Have the best time ever?—”
I snap the phone closed. I’ve never hung up on my mom, but I had no choice. I couldn’t risk speaking out loud. Where do I hide the phone? There’s no time to silence it, and I’m sure Mom will call again. He can’t hear it ring or know I have it.
I still wear the gray hoodie I put on this morning. I tear it off, wrap the phone inside, and then run to the closet. I unzip my backpack, burying the sweatshirt inside. Eyeing my green jacket hanging in front of me, I tear it off the hanger, covering the backpack with it for good measure.
Hoping this will silence the phone, I still worry about what would happen if my mom called back.
What do I do? Where do I go? I’m flushed and out of breath. I straighten the white tee I wear. Gather my loose hair and smooth it over one shoulder. I tiptoe to the bed, burying my face in the pillow. I try to calm my breath as I listen for footsteps on the stairs.
The footsteps of my husband-to-be.
A knot forms a pit of ice in my stomach, thinking of my mom’s dreams for me to travel and “kiss lots of boys.” There’s only one person I want to kiss, and he’s a full-grown man. She will be so disappointed when she finds out her eighteen-year-old daughter is married. It will break her heart when she learns it’s to a mafia man like my father.
A man she clearly hated.
I faintly hear Haze’s deep voice as he calls out for Gian.
A few moments later, I hear his footsteps jogging up the stairs. My door is thrown open. I debate pretending to sleep, but when he speaks, his voice is filled with so much emotion my attention instantly goes to him.
He stands in the doorway, staring at me, worry in his brown eyes. “Gian is missing. He’s not here.”
“Did you check his room?” I sit up, leaning on my elbow. My hair brushes over my bare arm. “He might still be packing.”
“Packing for what?”
“To go on a trip to visit his family. He said not to mention it to you because you were still upset about it.” As I speak, I realize I’m doing precisely what Gian told me not to.
“He never mentioned a trip to me.” He looks distraught, raking his hand through his dark curls.
I stand up from the bed, going to him. “He didn’t?”
“No.” He’s shaking his head. “Ophelia, he doesn’t have a family to visit.”