Page 76 of Perfect Liar

One a large tome covered in distressed brown leather, and the other smaller, much like a personal journal with a tattered black cover and a loose spine.

I opened the journal and leafed through, stopping at a dog-eared page to read a handwritten entry recorded by Emma James.

My great-grandmother.

She had written about her 1899 journey to America.

Emma had traveled alone as a pregnant woman, sailing from Southampton, England, to New York aboard the SS New York. Her husband John, my great-grandfather, had arrived six months ahead of her to search for the place they would call home.

Stonington, Connecticut

The journal entry went on as she had expressed her sadness, revealed her fears for their future, and confessed to loathing their new American surname.

I ran my finger over her signature at the bottom of the page.

Mrs. Emma Pl James

“I wish I’d known this about you sooner,” I whispered.

Will had explained everything to me back at the beach house. Still, there it was before me in black and white, chronicled by my own family.

I picked up the brown tome and passed over pages and pages of genealogical charts until landing on my father’s chart. I touched the brittle paper, using my fingertip to follow the names to the bottom of the page, where the last few generations were more legible.

The text showed my great-grandfather’s name at birth.

John James Plantagenet

He had created a new family surname using his middle name, because he directly descended from an English king, and he didn’t want any part of that. I couldn’t say I blamed him.

Two more names jumped out and overwhelmed me.

Edward and Elisabeth James

My dead parents.

The record ended there with no mention of Isabel or me.

My throat tightened. My chest ached with the grief ripping through me. But before the pain and my anxiety could take me down, I found the strength to drown them in anger.

Blood heated my face, my cheeks.

I scratched a line down the frail paper with my fingernail, stopping at my father’s name.

“Fuck you,” I blurted.

And then I tossed the book away from me like it had burned my fingers.

CHAPTER 23

Will filled the doorway, blocking out the light from the corridor. His spicy, sweaty scent drifted into the room and confused my thoughts.

“Are you all right, baby?”

“The books are legit? This journal is original?”

I looked at the damn things, lying near the foot of the bed, tossed away like rubbish.

He responded with a nod, staying in the doorway.

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