Page 67 of Poison Aches

Home.

This damn place has never been home to me, but I will always force myself to come here.

After all, this is where Mom grew up.

I glance at Ripley, but his face is schooled into a mask of impenetrable impassiveness as usual, giving nothing away.

To innocent outsiders, Ripley looks like your regular, plain butler who serves a pretentious old-money family.

He gives off a light air, as if he’s naïve and doesn’t quite know the inner workings of the family he works for—or if he does, he’s paid handsomely to act blind and mute—but that’s not Ripley.

Unlike most, if not all of my cousins and uncles who treat Ripley as if he’s just the help, I know exactly who he is.

And I know what he can do.

Under great, ruthless, sinister men like my grandfather, there’s no such thing as ordinary and innocent.

After all, the entire outfit of the Easton Family has survived and thrived through the century by careful calculations, a violent kind of vigilance and, well, simple ruthlessness.

“Good evening, Ripley.”

“This way, sir,” he says in his voice that has always sounded ancient to me since I was a kid.

Hell, he’s been here since my mother was just a little girl.

I follow him, taking my time knowing damn well that I’m incredibly late.

“They’re all here?” I mutter behind him, scrolling through my phone as I ignore the hidden cameras trained on me.

“Yes, sir,” Ripley answers, his Romanian accent deeper now that we’re away from prying eyes and satellite ears.

“The old man?”

“He’s in a peculiar mood,” Ripley says with a hint of warning.

I smirk. “I’d imagine so.”

“He changed the structure, Young Master,” Ripley advises discreetly while giving me a pointed look. I stop in my tracks.

If Grandfather changed the structure, it means he really is questioning whether or not to make me the head of the Family.

“I’d approach the evening with caution, sir,” Ripley continues.

Caution…well, that’s also a luxury I don’t have time for either.

“I understand. Are they ready?”

“Yes, Young Master,” Ripley says smoothly. “They’re all waiting for you now.”

Just as I intended.

A dying man without time making them all wait for me. “Good.”

“Sir…”

“Don’t worry, Rip, what has to come will never be late.”

At my words, Ripley stops and turns around to look at me with a strange look in his eyes. “Madam used to say that.”

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