Page 191 of Poison Aches

Why is that?

I remember there were a few people last night who clearly heard what Melissa said.

Hell, there was even a spotlight on me. Everyone saw me and with the way Melissa and I look alike, it’s obvious that we are sisters, so why hasn’t the news spread yet?

I get my answer when I arrive at Governor Hughes’ huge mansion in upstate New York an hour and a half later.

After frantically surfing the web using every search word possible, nothing alluding to my existence comes up.

Even that one link disappeared when I tried refreshing it.

“Mom, look! I knew she’d be back!”

I stare at Melissa after I’m shown into the house by someone who quickly disappeared after Melissa arrived.

She folds her arms and smirks at me, dressed head to toe in designer brands.

“I’m just here to collect my stuff.”

“We got rid of it.”

I pause and stare at her.

One thing about me…I’m not good at confrontations.

In fact, when I was younger I would cry if I got angry…then at some point I’d go straight to just throwing hands, as my brother directed.

But for some reason, the malicious smile on Melissa’s face makes me pause.

“Why?”

“Because you won’t be needing any of that silly stuff anymore,” she says with a shrug. “You’re now a Hughes! You need to act the part.”

I’m now a Hughes?

Really?

Less than twenty-four hours ago, my entire life was flipped upside down and now the one thing I’ve had from the day I was abandoned to now is being taken away?

I don’t think so.

“No thanks,” I say simply, holding her gaze so she sees I’m dead serious. “Where did you have my stuff thrown away?”

Just as she opens her mouth to retort, I spot Beverly coming down the stairs.

She eyes me, then when she sees me looking at her, she looks away.

How could this woman be Grammy and Gramps’s child?

“Mom, did you hear what she said?” Melissa says. “She thinks she has a choice on whether or not she can denounce this family.”

“That’s hardly an issue seeing as I have never and will never be a part of your shit family,” I say as politely as ever, but inside, my stomach is twisting in knots. “Where are my bags?”

“Uh, Ivy, is it?” Beverly speaks, her voice soft but firm. “You must come in, we were just about to have brunch.”

“I won’t be staying.”

“But we need to discuss the details of your wedding.”

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