Page 62 of Poison Aches

George hasn’t had the ‘heart-to-heart’ he needs to have with the people his actions hurt.

Hell, he believes no one knows, but unfortunately, I’ve been aware of everything.

And I’m pretty sure he now knows that I know.

It takes a certain level of cunning, resources, and power to identify a man who’s at the edge of losing his basic human morality and civility and George Beaumont is just a simple decision away from becoming the heartless monster he accuses me of being.

I almost smile.

“My time on this accursed earth is running out but your secrets are just a breath away from igniting your house of lies into an inferno,” I say simply. “I wonder what your next move will be.”

Another silence falls between us. George knows I’m right.

“Are you monitoring me?” he grumbles.

“Someone needs to have your back. After all, children should never play with that which they know nothing about…like fire.”

“You should know, you have plenty of scars and unhealed burns to show for it,” he counters harshly.

I remain silent. He’s not wrong.

“Listen,” George starts, then he blows a breath before continuing, “I’m doing what I think is best here. For everyone involved.”

“Are you?”

I scroll down to check where Ivy’s traveled to for the last few years, which at first is pretty basic but suddenly, the last few months she’s been all over the country, with her latest trip scheduled for New York City in the coming days.

She must’ve found something.

Angel is tenacious, I’ll give her that, but she should’ve left this alone like I once told her.

“You know I can’t talk about it yet. You of all people know that my hands are tied,” George bites out.

A truth and three lies. That’s what I’ve heard since I picked up this endless call.

“Is that why you just disappeared with your baby mama?”

The line falls silent.

“She’s your sister… you do remember that, right?” George snaps.

“Is she?”

I won’t fucking fight with George over this, but when I look down, I’m surprised to see my fist is clenched tight.

The nuclear bomb that my mother had another child was dropped a few years ago—and then the so-called half-sibling appeared in the form of George’s baby mama.

Was that a coincidence? If you believe it is, then you’re as naïve as they come.

Next, I found out that the girl lived most of her life close to Westbrook Blues. That in itself was a head trip.

I started thinking of the possibility that my mother might’ve been close to me all these years.

Before, I thought it was all a gimmick, a twisted play that made zero sense when George Beaumont crawled out of a grave I personally saw, but judging by the girl’s age, and the time I last saw my mother, Daphne must’ve been pregnant when I was four or five years old. That bastard confirmed as much.

Not only that, the girl, Lara or whatever her name is, her resemblance to my mother is so uncanny, it’s almost criminal.

But have I talked to her up to this day? No.

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