Page 107 of Owen

He taps the side of his nose. “I saw and heard it all at the funeral. And like I said, I have eyes and ears everywhere.” He does the button up on his black suit jacket. “As the world’s first woman aerobatic pilot in the Air Force, it would be such a talent to go to waste.” He dabs the corners of his eyes theatrically. “It would be a pity if she were to have an accident in that plane she flies.”

“I fucking hate you,” I snarl, spittle spraying everywhere.

“Join the queue. You know what needs to be done.” He looks around, dusts his tie, and nods in Gideon’s direction. “Time to go.”

Then he leaves alongside Gideon and my sister, who, as sad as she is, willingly gets up and walks to the door with them.

“I’m your brother, Camilla. Why would you let them do this to me?” She stops walking but doesn’t look back.

“I will never forgive you,” I hiss.

“I will never forgive myself,” she whispers, shaking her head, still crying as she leaves.

Then it’s just me.

My pulse beats so hard I can hear it thumping in my ears.

The man I hate with every bone in my body is dead, and yet he’s still screwing me over.

And in this moment, I have never felt so alone.

If I can’t raise or find that money, what will Richard do to them? I will die inside if anything happens to them.

I can’t let that happen. I just can’t.

And if I can’t find the money, it will kill me, but I will stay away from Jade and Poppy to keep them safe.

It would mean never seeing my girls again, but I will do it. For them.

The knot of anxiety in my gut tightens, making me feel sick.

Running over to the wastebasket, I lunge forward, heaving, vomiting up this morning’s breakfast.

Hunched over, leaning on my thighs, I suck in a deep breath as I stand tall, wiping my sweat-covered hands over the fabric of my pants. When I feel a small lump, I push my hand into the pocket and I pull out Jade’s lucky poppy stone.

Unclenching my fingers, I stare.

Jade was right. I needed luck.

Ten million pounds of it.

31

OWEN – FIVE DAYS LATER

“What the hell are you doing?” Jacob gasps as he steps inside my father’s office.

I reply, “Searching.” Sitting cross-legged on the floor, not lifting my head as I scan yet another piece of paper looking for any clues as to the whereabouts of my trust fund or money my father may have had stashed somewhere.

“It must be important, whatever it is you’re searching for,” Jacob says. “This place is a mess.”

I scan the room. Paperwork is scattered across every surface. Over the last five days, I have ripped the house apart, including the filing cabinet I found in a secret space behind the knight statue in the hall. I hauled it into the office, then took a crowbar to rip the drawers open.

“I couldn’t find a key for that.” I point at the tall empty cabinet that’s now completely unusable.

“So you wrenched it open?” Lincoln says sarcastically. “And I’m guessing you couldn’t find a key for that either.” He points at the wooden desk that no longer has a top.

“I took a chainsaw to it,” I answer honestly. “The crowbar didn’t work.”

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