Page 118 of Owen

A low laugh rumbles in his chest. “Lincoln told me what you guys had been up to, but I suppose it will give Richard and Gideon’s monkeys something to do. From what I’ve heard, they are experts at cleans ups.” He shakes his head. “I wish you’d told me sooner. I would have made sure you got to keep your trust fund and paid the ten million for you.”

“It was my responsibility.”

“Keep telling yourself that, son, but it wasn’t. With your parents no longer around, you’re my responsibility now, Owen. You call me anytime, day or night. No matter what.” He reaches for me and pulls me into his arms, wrapping me in his gigantic frame with warmth I never received from my own father.

I struggle to hold it together when he says, “You’re family,Owen. When you need me, I’ll be there. Always.” He slaps me on the back, twice, then, pushing me out of our embrace, he grabs my biceps. “Shower, sort your shit out, and go up to the house and take photos of anything you want to keep. Certificates and anything else that’s important.”

I can get rid of all the photos.

As if reading my mind, Knox says, “If you have no photos, how will your new family know your heritage or what your folks looked like? It’s important. Stick them away in a box, but don’t live with any regrets.” He throws me a knowing wink. “And send me your bank details as well as Richard’s. Lincoln told me you had to postpone your start date for your new job, but I will not have you struggling.”

“I will pay back every penny,” I promise.

He gently smiles. “You’re ten times the man your father was, Owen. Don’t let his wrongdoings hold you back from the life you deserve.”

I can’t move forward without her.

A dinging text alert sings through my phone.

“That will be The Dick,” Knox says, making me want to chuckle, but I’m unsure how I do that because I feel nothing but pain and despair.

Knox makes a note of the details. “He won’t bother you anymore. You have my word.” I figure Knox has information on Richard to keep him away, making me admire Knox even more than I did before.

I walk him to the front door and thank him again and just as he’s about to jump into his sports car, another text comes through, making my eyes bug out.

“They found her. She’s alive.” I read the text out loud.

35

JADE

A steady beep wakes me from what feels like the best sleep I have had in months.

So good, I can’t remember going to bed last night, or if I remembered to lock the front door.

Not fully awake yet, I don’t understand the artificial smell of antiseptic I’m surrounded by.

Did I do the cleaning yesterday?

My head is fuzzy. I don’t remember.

Why can’t I remember?

I try to open my heavy eyelids that feel like anchors, but I struggle.

Attempting to try again, I crack them open and the fluorescent lighting is so harsh it forces me to close them.

“She’s waking up again.” I hear a warbled-sounding voice.

“Jade, baby.” I recognize that voice in an instant.

Owen.

“Sweetheart.”

My mom.

I groan as I try to move, stopping when a sharp pulling pain pinches my back.

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