Page 122 of A Taste like Sin
which could serve as a tracking device should they decide to utilize it. I grab it, intending to smash it,
only to read the smattering of text messages flashing across the screen.
Diane: Stable condition. Doctors expect full recovery.
Sighing, I fall back against a mound of pillows. I should be relieved, full of naïve hopes of
reconciliation and my father’s health restored.
But I’m not.
Damien’s words are in my head.You love him. You forgive. Your strength.
Love. All this time, I considered Simon’s motives as hate. Hate for me. Sadistic glee at watching me
suffer. A joy at causing pain—and maybe those emotionshaddriven his initial attack.
But his replacement? What would drive a man to torment a woman for years? In a way, Damien has
never shied away from his reasoning: the love that he claimed kept me from becoming someone like
him. Love for his brother that drove him to despise my father. Love that became pain.
And maybe the true imposter-Simon had the same motivations guiding him? Love for someone, the
way my father loves me.
The theory haunts me as I climb off the mattress only to find a pair of clothing folded neatly at the foot
of the bed. Reluctantly, I change into the clean sweater and pants, and then I find a bathroom down the
hall to wash up in.
I look awful. A haunted shadow of the beautiful Juliana Thorne I spent years striving to be. Anything
to make Heyworth Thorne proud. Anything to prove that I was worth living the life that should have
been Leslie’s.
Anything to hide from the trauma no one else could see.
My phone is in my grip, I realize as I return to the hall. Damien could be using it already, listening in
on my indecision. Tracking my every move.
I bring the device to my ear, but it doesn’t ring. I have to dial the number myself and wait for an
answer from the other end.
“Juliana…” Damien sounds wary this morning. A raw note of exhaustion betrays his lack of sleep.
How long did he linger after having his private doctor stitch me up? How long did he lie in bed
beside me to the point where I could still smell him when I woke up? How long has he kept his own
phone close, hoping I’d call? Knowing I would?
“I can have the police there in minutes if you would like to report my actions as assault.”
