Page 58 of The Revenge

Despite how tired I am, I don’t sleep. Instead, I turn the television on, flicking aimlessly through Netflix before eventually settling on a movie I’ve seen before and only half-watch it.

By the time the credits run, Syn still hasn’t returned. It’s late enough that I’d expect everyone to have called it a night and gone to their rooms. He’d said there was nowhere else for him to sleep, but had he just been saying that?

Against my better judgement, before I committed to taking my makeup off and changing into something to sleep in, I leave the room. Upstairs is quiet, and I have no intention of checking any of the other bedrooms, so I head downstairs and go straight to the dining room.

The room is empty, and the table has been completely cleared to wipe away any trace of the dinner party that just took place. I back out and move on to the next room, carefully opening the door. This room is also empty.

As I move from room to room, I can’t help but wonder if this really is Syn’s home. Temperature wise, each room is warm—even despite the late hour, no expense seems to be spared to heat unoccupied rooms—but at the same time, each room lacks warmth.

I almost feel sorry for Syn.

When I open the next door, I’m surprised to find there’s a light on. There’s one occupant, sitting behind a desk, but it’s not Syn. It’s his father.

He looks up, locking eyes with me. “Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry,” I quickly say. “I was looking for Syn. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“As you’re here, why don’t you come in?”

In the little time I’ve spent with James William Keyingham, the last thing I want to do is spend any more time with him, never mind alone…

“If you’re marrying my son, I think we should talk,” he adds when I hesitate.

Giving him a tight smile, I walk into his office, closing the door behind me. Then I walk up to his desk and sit down in one of the chairs opposite him.

Behind William’s desk are several tall windows. I can’t see out of them because the thick Venetian blinds have been lowered, blocking out what would likely be a magnificent view of Central Park. Just like every other room, the office has a modern feel to it, with sparsely filled shelves made of light wood, pale gray walls, and a mostly glass desk.

“I know exactly who you are,” William says, snapping my attention to him.

My heart starts to race. “You do?”

William stares at me, then the corner of his lip turns up slightly. “You think I’ve not met women like you before? Women look at my son, and they see nothing but money. If you marry my son, I promise you that the prenuptial agreement my lawyers will have drawn up will ensure that you will not be left with anything.”

I have to fight to keep the smile off my face. Syn wanted this stupid fake engagement to make sure his father doesn’t work out who I was, andsomehow, that single dinner party was enough to convince him that this relationship is real?

“If you’re surprised that I’ve figured you out so quickly, don’t be. My son knows how important his future is. This is nothing more than him trying to test his boundaries.” William gets up and walks over to a chest of drawers. With his back to me, he pulls something out of it, closes the drawer, and then walks back to sit down. Then he places a stack of money on the desk in front of me.

Ten wads of cash fastened together by a paper band with $10,000 written on it, wrapped around each one. The notes are so flat and straight that they almost don’t look real.

“This is yours if you leave him tonight.”

A hundred thousand dollars.

Lawyer fees aren’t cheap, and this would go a long way…

“I’m afraid I can’t accept that.” There’s a lot more I want to say, but I figure it’s in my best interests to leave quietly. So, I stand and move away from the desk, making it all the way to the door and opening it before William speaks again.

“Has your family burnt through all your money already?”

His voice is quiet, and I’m not even sure that’s what he said, but before I can ask him to say that again, someone grabs my arm.

“Victoria? What are you doing here?” Syn asks me.

“I was just talking to your father.” I bite my lip, glancing back at William. Whatever he said, I must have misheard him.

In the short time between being arrested and sentenced, my father’s company imploded on itself. On one of the last days I’d attended at my old high school, I’d returned home to find men I didn’t recognize emptying the house. Under supervision, I had to pack one case with my things, and then we were living in a hotel for a couple of weeks, and I was listening to my parents argue. Then my father walked out, and my mom and I had to find somewhere we could live with the little money we had.

We have no money. And even if we did, why would Syn’s father care?

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