Over the moon, p.6
Over the Moon, page 6
Silver opens her door and steps inside, still not honoring me with another glance. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
She slams the door behind her, leaving me with the biggest fucking smile on my face. My unhealthy obsession with Nurse Silver might just help me survive this place.
PHASE II
WAXING CRESCENT MOON
“The moon has awoken with the sleep of the sun, the light has been broken; the spell has begun.” — Midgard Morningstar
BURIED FEARS
SILVER
“Delivery, Miss Silver.”
I look up from the paperwork spread out on my desk and smile at Marlo, the shipping-and-receiving manager. “I wasn’t expecting anything on Sunday.”
He gives me that look—a look that’s reserved for the difficult ones of the bunch who always seem to need the unobtainable. Kingston’s face flashes in my mind, and a feeling of guilt immediately follows it. I already decided that I’m moving past my initial impression of the cocky jock. He is who he is, and after he walked me home last night, I realized he isn’t the total lost cause I thought he was. His intentions are in the right place, and that’s all that should matter.
“One of the guys had a special request. Here.” He sets the white paper bag on the desk.
“A special request?”
“Yup.” Marlo shrugs. “Guy paid me two hundred bucks cash. Can you believe it? I wasn’t going to turn down that offer.”
“Someone gave you two hundred bucks? For what?” I make a face, wondering who in the hell would need something that badly. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has sent Marlo to run an errand, but what on earth could be so important that someone would pay two hundred dollars cash? Then I roll my eyes at my own comment when I remember who we’re dealing with this week. Celebrities. Football players.
“Can’t say,” Marlo answers with his hands up as he takes a step back.
“Why are you giving it to me, then? He paid you, not me.”
Marlo waved a hand apologetically. “I made plans with my daughter today, and I didn’t want to just leave it on his doorstep. Do you mind making sure he gets it?”
I lean back and stare at the bag, curious beyond belief about the contents. “All right. Fine. I’ll get it to him.” I grab a pen and hover over a blank sheet of notebook paper. “What’s his name?”
“Kingston Scott,” Marlo says with another step back. “Nice guy.”
Of course. I drop the pen. It won’t be a problem to remember that bit of information. I wave goodbye to Marlo and wait until he’s gone to look down at the white bag. It’s completely open, giving me a clear view of the top of the shiny black paper box inside. It only takes a split second to recognize the gold logo on top of the packaging. I push the bag away like it’s burning me.
What the hell?
I’m not sure why I’m surprised. Why wouldn’t Kingston put in a special delivery for magnum condoms? Nothing he does should surprise me anymore.
Letting out a frustrated groan, I fold the top of the package closed so I can’t catch another accidental peek at what’s inside. Then I go back to work. At least I try. But my day isn’t just drowned out by thoughts of Kingston. That would make my life far too easy, and it’s never been easy.
When the phone rings just before lunch hour, I’m not expecting the familiar deep voice on the other end of the line that says, “Hiya, Sylvia. Happy birthday.”
But the moment I hear it, my senses cease to function. I’ve had a mental countdown for the past eight years, each day weighted by the knowledge that although I ran and hid from my past, it would always be there to haunt me. It would always be waiting for me until my twenty-fifth birthday, the day my inheritance would be released to me.
Sylvia, 8 years ago
Long after my heartbeat stops thumping between my ears, I freeze my rocking, hold my breath, and listen with intense concentration. It’s difficult to make out much past the pain that lances through my arm and the throbbing beneath my quickly swelling skin, but I can’t stay here forever.
After a slow and shaky inhale, I release my hold around my bent legs and open my eyes. I’ve been pinching them closed so hard for so long that it takes a minute for my vision to return. Once the blurring clears, I’m faced with the aftermath of my compulsive decisions.
She’s nothing but a crumpled heap on the living room floor with jagged pieces of a shattered vase sprinkled around her. Blood drips from her forehead and pools on her precious white carpet. The reality hits me, and I slap a hand over my mouth to cover the sob that slips past my throat.
I did this.
I hit her.
I killed her.
Using my good arm, I scoot backward, away from the crime scene, as far as I can go before an obstacle stops me—a chair, I think—but my eyes are still glued to the lifeless body beside the grand piano, so I can’t be sure.
My insides feel like they’re being ripped in two, with one half wanting to make a desperate dash for the door, and the other half demanding that I call 911. Then I remember what started it all.
My father’s unexpected death should have been my biggest nightmare, but I quickly found out that losing him was just beginning. I could never have expected what came next.
The threats.
The legal battle.
The screaming.
The abuse.
All because of money that she feels is rightly hers. She was married to my father for what—two years—before he died? We were all blindsided by his death, but while I was mourning the life of my last living parent, my stepmom was furious beyond belief. He had left her nothing but a small life insurance policy and just enough money to pay off all of the debt she helped him rack up during their short marriage. The life insurance money wasn’t even enough to cover the big fancy home she forced him to purchase after they got married. Not to mention the three sports cars that take up most of the space in the garage, or the expensive timeshare package they hadn’t even used yet.
My father’s best friend, Harvey, was the executor of his will and the trustee to my trust fund. That trust fund contains every last bit of my father’s fortune—and it will go to me once I turn twenty-five. In the end, the only thing my stepmother received in the deal was me. So, for the past eight months, I’ve been stuck with her. Lucinda. The evil stepmother who belongs in a Grimm retelling of Snow White rather than in the reality she’s forced me to live in. She’s made it no secret that she wants every last drop of what I cannot yet claim. I never expected for it to turn violent, though.
With a quick shake of my head, I pull myself to my feet and look around. The duffel bag I attempted to leave with hours ago is sitting near the front door. My plan was to sneak away while she was still asleep, but that plan was destroyed when she stomped out of the kitchen and intercepted my exit, her face filled with a rage that terrified me.
“Where do you think you’re going, you little bitch?” Her drunken snarl was enough to send me into panic mode.
The following events leading to me shattering a vase over her head play through my mind like a scratched record. I can still feel the sharp tug of my hair as she yanked me backward and the burn of my throat from my screams, not that there was a chance of anyone hearing me. Our house is set up like a fortress on hundreds of acres of woods. We no longer have the staff who took up space in our guest quarters. Lucinda could no longer afford the extravagant expenses.
She blamed me for all of it.
I scramble for my phone and tap on the last missed call. I don’t recognize the number, but I know who it belongs to.
“Where are you?” Harvey snaps in a hushed voice.
“She’s dead.” My voice shakes as the words spill out and another sob bursts from my throat. “I tried to leave, b-but she knew. Somehow she knew. And s-she tried to stop me—”
“Jesus.” The curse is a whisper, but it confirms just how badly I fucked up. “Are you sure?”
I look at Lucinda’s body again and swallow past the lump in my throat.
“Sylvia,” he demands. “Are you sure Lucinda is dead?”
“I-I think so. She’s not moving.” A shaky breath rocks my entire body. “I hit her so hard, Harvey. T-There’s blood. So much blood.”
“You’ll be okay,” he reasons quickly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Tears flood my eyes now as I realize just how much this changes things. “How do you know I’ll be okay? What if they don’t believe it’s self-defense? With all the lies she’s already spread about me, and the money involved, they’ll think I wanted her—” I can’t even say the word, but it rings loudly in my ears.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
“I should check her pulse.”
I start to lurch forward, but Harvey screams, “No!”
“Don’t touch her,” he says. “The plan stays the same. Meet me at the underpass as soon as you can. I’m already here. Let me deal with Lucinda.”
“But—”
“Hurry.” That’s the last thing he says before the line goes dead.
I’m frozen in place, staring at her lifeless body as suffocating silence fills the room. An onslaught of emotions hits me next—doubt, grief, regret, anger… The list goes on. Staying. Going. Nothing feels right.
Then I hear her moan.
My eyes stop on the woman I would have sworn was lifeless moments ago. Sure enough, she’s still alive. Her eyes are still closed, but she’s struggling to get up, barely raising her shoulders off the floor. The slight movement lights a fire in me that was damn close to extinguishing. My heartbeat jolts to life, and I’m once again in fight-or-flight mode. I take off running toward her.
Adrenaline charges through me, fueling my journey across the floor, including the long leap I take to clear her body to reach my exit. The plan is back on, and I’m more than determined to see it out—until I’m pulled back by my ankle by a force strong enough to send me crashing forward. My chin collides with the marble floor, my head swirls with fog, and the pain that’s already shooting through my arm screams out yet again.
The grip on my foot releases, and I start to crawl forward toward my bag, toward the door. I dare a glance over my shoulder to find Lucinda still struggling to get off the floor as she moans through her pain.
“Don’t you dare walk out that door,” she says with an evil glare. “Not until you give me what’s mine.”
“If my father wanted you to have anything, then he would have left it for you. You heard the judge. My trust is untouchable.”
“Not if you’re dead. You’re forgetting your father named a contingent beneficiary. You die, and the money goes to me.”
Lucinda’s threat sounds sinister enough to make my entire body shake with chills. I’ve never liked her, but I also never believed she would become so vindictive over money. I launch forward, trying to drown out her voice with my focus on leaving.
“If you even think about running, I will find you.” Her threat rings through the empty house. “And then I’ll fucking kill you. You hear me, Sylvia?” Her brown eyes blacken with her glare. “Mark my words.”
I scramble to my feet again. Ignoring every ounce of pain coursing through me, I grab my duffel bag, forcing it over my shoulder. When I’m finally at the door, I stop with my hand on the knob and look over my shoulder to where Lucinda is still glaring after me. “You’ll have to find me first.”
Silver
“Harvey?” While I’m certain I recognize the voice on the other end of the line, I have to be sure.
“Yes, kid, it’s me. How ya holding up?”
I swallow, my eyes darting around the room to verify I’m totally alone. A chill sweeps over me, and I press my lids together while I suck in a slow breath. All these years, and I never even imagined how this moment would go.
“Y-you’re actually calling me.”
A light chuckle filters through the line. “It’s your twenty-fifth birthday. I think a congratulations are in order.”
I bow my head. “No one has wished me happy birthday on my actual birthday in a very long time. It feels strange.”
“Ah yes, I imagine that would be strange. I’m so sorry, Sylvia.”
“It’s Silver now,” I say in a hushed whisper. “And you really shouldn’t be calling me during work hours.”
A light breath floats across the line, the initial humor in his tone fading away. “I know. I know. But I think it’s time to get the ball rolling before…”
His hesitation breeds the festering fear in my chest. “Before what?”
“Before your stepmom—”
“Don’t,” I snap. “Don’t call her that.” It’s amazing how fast the mere mention of her fills me with the rage. Lucinda is the opposite of anything a mother should ever represent. She may have scored the ring from my father, but the moment he passed away, her true colors showed she was nothing but evil.
“I’m sorry,” Harvey says, his tone sincere. “Lucinda has petitioned the court once again to claim your trust money.”
I roll my eyes. “So what? You know she won’t win. She tried that same thing eight and a half years ago, remember? It’s what initiated her craziness. She can’t claim a cent of my trust money. It’s untouchable.”
“But you haven’t claimed a cent. You just disappeared, which I know I helped you do, but the plan was always for you to claim your money when you were of age.”
“Yeah, but that was before we knew Lucinda was capable of murder.”
“She won’t lay a finger on you, but she might end up getting what she wants if you don’t claim your trust as soon as possible.”
I snort through my disdain at his optimism. “You think she’ll get over it once the money’s in my bank account? No, Harvey. That woman tried to kill me. She was almost successful. She will only try harder once that money’s mine. Besides, you said she went to the cops that night. Won’t they arrest me the moment I make my whereabouts known?”
“Eight years later? No, Silver. That case has long been closed.”
I can’t see why he’s so confident that I’m safe from the law and Lucinda. “I don’t know. I need time to think about this.”
He sighs. “I told you, we don’t have time. I’m urging you to please end this. Don’t you want to come home?”
“I am home. And I’m doing well.” I swallow before I continue. “There’s nothing to go back to.” I know what I’m saying. He’s been protecting my inheritance all this time, and now I’m telling him I’m still not ready to claim what’s mine so that Lucinda can’t attempt to take it away. While guilt lives and breathes inside of me every single day over this situation, I’ve learned how to cope with it in the best way I can.
Harvey lets out a slow breath. “Maybe not, but you should know that there’s an expiration date on these things. Especially when someone else thinks that money should be theirs. Lucinda is also petitioning the court and saying that you’re dead, Syl—Silver.”
“What? She has no proof of that.”
“Legally, after seven years, the only proof she needs is your absence. It’s been eight. And if the courts can’t dig up any recent history on you—jobs, school, friends, anything—and come up empty, which they will, then she’ll win. Your time is up, kid. I’m preparing all the documents, and you’ll need to sign off on them.”
While I’ve gotten used to living with the guilt of leaving Harvey to deal with the fallout of my disappearance, I know I can’t allow Lucinda to finally win. Not after all I’ve lost. My throat pinches closed. “But I’m not ready.”
“Will you ever be?”
We both know the answer to that. Nothing can ever take back the horror of that year following my father’s death. Nothing will ever remove the scars buried deep inside me from that night I finally made my escape.
“I imagine you’ve made a happy life for yourself there, and you should be proud of that. I’m proud of you, too, just as your father would be.”
My throat swells as tears prick the backs of my eyes.
“But,” he continues, “if you want to keep Lucinda from claiming your trust, you’ll need to claim it first.”
“I-I don’t know, Harvey. Maybe it’s not even worth it. If she wants the money that badly, maybe I should just let her have it.” But even as I say the words, I know it’s not an option.
“Seriously?” Harvey practically chokes on his question. “After everything she put you through? You cannot let her win.”
He’s right. It’s not even about the money at this point. It’s about principle. I swallow and shake my head, feeling torn in half. “I need a little time. The courts won’t see her right away. How much time do I have?”
“One month to be safe.”
A knot twists in my gut. It’s not a lot of time, but it’s something. “Okay.”
A few beats of silence pass between us, then he’s the one to break it. “I’ll call back to check in on you in a few days. Whatever happens, whatever you decide, you won’t be alone.”
I shake my head in an effort to find comfort in his words. For some reason, no comfort comes. Deep down inside, I knew it wasn’t over. I became complicit in the idea that my past would always have a grip on me. My inheritance was safe from her evil clutches, and I’d found a new home. I never felt the need to claim what he left for me, and after that night, I couldn’t touch it anyway. My best bet was to stay away for good. While I knew I could officially claim my inheritance at twenty-five years old, I didn’t know there would be an expiration date along with that. I didn’t know the wounds of my past would split wide open and it would be me sewing it back together with the needle and thread.
“Thanks for the heads-up, Harvey. I need to go.”
A heavy sigh rests on the line for a moment before he speaks again. “Okay, kid. I understand. I’ll check back in soon.”
