Page 41 of Rules

“I already gave you more than what we agreed on. Enough is enough!”

“It’s enough is when I say it’s enough!” This time she doesn’t even try to keep quiet. “Eighteen years, John.Eighteen years. You owe me.”

Goosebumps rise on my skin.John. That’s his name. But John who?

“We agreed,” he hisses.

“And I changed my mind. But feel free to ignore my request. I dare you,” Josephine chuckles, her cold laugh freezing me in my place. I knew that laugh, and it didn’t bring anything good. She wasn’t bluffing. Josephine had something on that John guy, and by the sound of it, it had to be something big. “You know what’s on the line. I have nothing to lose, but you on the other hand…”

The silence stretches behind the door, and I’m tempted to open it and peek outside, the need to know who she’s talking to and what’s happening driving me insane.

“Fine,” he finally girts. “I’ll get you your money next week.”

Money? What money?

Josephine tsks mockingly. “Try by the end of the weekend.”

“I don’t have that kind of money stashed under my bed, Josephine!”

My eyes pop out as he roars at her. My hand flies to cover my mouth to stifle the surprised yelp. His chilly voice is giving me the creeps, and I can’t help but wonder. What the hell is happening here? Who’s the guy and what does Josephine have on him?

It had to be something good because the only other option was that Josephine was playing with fire. A big, dangerous fire that can only lead to one thing—getting burned. I can only hope I’m not here to burn along with her.

“But I’m sure you have it stashed in one of your pretty safes in that big-ass mansion of yours. End of the weekend, John.” Her cold voice leaves no room for discussion.

Long silence stretches behind the door, so long it almost makes me doubt if I imagined it all together.

“Fine,” the guy finally agrees.

“I’m glad we came to an agreement.” There are footsteps, followed by the slight creaking of the front door. “I’ll see you Sunday night.”

What the hell just happened?

Turning my back to the door, I slide down until my butt touches the floor. My brain is working overtime to wrap around the fact that I just heard my mother blackmail some, by the sound of it, rich guy. Why? I have no idea, but I have to find out.

Not because I particularly care what happens to her. She made her own bed and now she can sleep in it. But because her actions have a way of pulling me down the rabbit hole along with her once everything falls apart.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, I get to my feet. It doesn’t take me long to find her, first because our apartment is the size of a shoebox and second because with her you always know where to find her.

Leaning against the doorway of the living room, I watch her pour two fingers of vodka into her glass. Not even the cheap kind.

Whoever the guy is, he must be paying her big bucks to keep her mouth shut.

“Who’s John?” I ask, looking down at my chipped nail polish.

From the corner of my eye, I can see her jump, startled by my sudden question.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Unfazed by her animosity, I lift my gaze to hers. Her pupils are dilated, cheeks flushed. She’s not full-on drunk, but she’s not far from it either.

“As far as I know, I still live here.”

Unfortunately.

Through the years I thought about running away a dozen times, more even. But it all came back to the fact that no matter how bad I had it living with Josephine, living on the streets by myself would be a hundred times worse.

“You don’t have to remind me. I’m the one paying for your shit.”

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