Page 79 of The Heiress

My dad’s family was dirt poor and my mom’s family made just enough to get by. It wasn’t like there was some inheritance that suddenly appeared. Besides, their parents had all been dead and gone for years before I was born.

So where the hell did they get that kind of money?

“Did they win the lottery?” Jace asked.

“Not that I know of. I’m fairly certain if they had, if that’s how they bought the house, that would have been a running family joke.”

“I can hear your dad now,” he laughed. “I spent all my lottery money on this house, so do your chores!”

The next image wasn’t a document. It was a photograph of a locket. Jace took one look at it. “Isn’t that the symbol your dad puts on everything he makes?”

My dad, the absent-minded carpenter, who jumped from project to project like a preschooler with Play-doh, would finish something every once in a while. He always branded them with a logo and the date. A lamp, a table, he even made a jewelry box.

Was this where the symbol came from?

“Yes, it is.”

“What is it?” Jace cocked his head to the side.

“I have no idea. Whenever I asked what it was, he said it was just something he made up.” I clicked on the notes attached to the photograph.

Item found in the bottom of the box. Photographed for the record and returned to owner.

It wasn’t just a photograph from the box we sent out. It was an actual locket the digitizers found while sifting through my parent’s photographs. Which meant…I clicked on the next image with shaking hands.

Oh my God.

I stared at the picture of a young Georgia and Bernard Roark. My hands began to shake uncontrollably so it was hard to click to the next photograph. This one was of the engraving on the other side of the locket:

Victoria Stroman Roark

August 12, 1992

* * *

“Fuck. He knew? Healwaysknew?”Jace said for the hundredth time.

“And he bought a house with cash right before they brought me home.” Pieces of the puzzle fell into place and I didn’t like what I saw one bit. “Dad was paid off to take me and stay quiet. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m just seeing coincidences where there aren’t any.”

But Jace didn’t tell me that. Instead he took my face in his hands, looking me deep in the eyes. “I can’t. That’s one hell of a coincidence otherwise.” It was as hard for him as it was for me to imagine the man who took care of us, who seemed like the quietest most ethical rock, was actually hiding a secret like this.

I was kidnapped. Dad knew it—had evidence of it in his office—and took money to keep it secret. The perfect image of my parents was already cracked, but now it was crumbling to pieces.

But something else niggled at me. Something from before I got distracted by memory lane. “I was reading about Georgia earlier. Gossip columns. I think she was afraid of Bernard.”

And if she were genuinely afraid...she might have felt she needed to take extraordinary measures.

An idea had been forming in the back of my mind ever since I saw those pictures of a pregnant Georgia and a surprised Bernard. “I think Bernard and the Feyereisens wanted complete control of Roark Corp. I think they eliminate everyone in the way. And I think the very last thing they wanted was an heir. Georgia hid her pregnancy until the very end. She didn’t even tell Bernard. She surprised him on a red carpet. Why would she do that? I think she needed the insurance of a public announcement so they wouldn’t hurt her or me.” I took a shaky breath as the reality of the situation sank in. “I think Georgia had me kidnapped to keep me safe.”

28

After the shock of all my discoveries it was pretty hard to sleep. Jace and I were both unsettled, but in different ways. I was numb and trying to process. And Jace...well if I had to guess, I’d say he’d locked up any thoughts surrounding my parents not being quite who they presented themselves as so he could focus obsessively on our safety.

I saw the shift in him when I explained how scared Georgia seemed of Bernard. A switch flipped and my Jace disappeared. In his place was the Red Right Hand, only the interests he was protecting weren’t those of Devil’s Wrath. They were mine.

So I was exhausted, numb, and confused the next day when I had to go through the legal process of becoming Victoria Roark. Or whatever new horrific hyphenation my name was legally becoming. It somehow included all my names but everyone kept arguing over which order they should appear in.

I finally had to smack the table and make a decision.

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