Page 62 of Haunted Nights & Savage Sins
But for some reason, it doesn’t feel like I am. I don’t know if it’s because of all the cameras at the windows and doors, but it feels almost as if someone is watching me.
Slowly, I look around the room as if I’ll catch someone hiding in one of the corners. I shake off the apprehension when I comeup with nothing but the empty space. I guess I’m just used to Cormac being around.
Walking out of my room, I slowly make my way down the hall, taking care to stay out of the sight line of any cameras. When I get to the door that leads up to the wrecked upper level, I have to force myself to calm my breathing. I can’t get caught. There’s no one here to catch me.
This is my house too. I have just as much right as Cormac to go up there.
Even as I think that I know I’m wrong. It’s an invasion of privacy. I can’t leave anything up to chance. Especially when I’m contemplating my life with Cormac. I need to know everything.
Pulling my shoulders back and trying to garner as much courage as possible, I put one foot in front of the other and slowly walk up the stairs. The aroma of flames and musk hits me. The wind howls outside and sunlight fights to cut through the darkness of this rarely used walkway.
I get up to the main area where Cormac caught me the last time. I glance once at the picture. Cormac’s mother was a beauty. As I pass by, it seems as if her eyes stay on me. Feels like one of those circus tricks to scare the kids.
A chill shoots up my spine and I tremble. There are no fireplaces going up here. The cold is biting.
I follow the darkening soot-lined walls to a room in the back. I push open the door and can see that there was a massive fire in here. The fireplace crumbled to pieces, some drapes in tatters, furniture that I’m sure was once lavish and comfortable nothing more than scraps of wood and fabric. Besides the obviousdestruction from the fire, I see a few other places in the room that look to have been destroyed after the fact.
There are fist holes punched into the wall. Smears of what look like blood next to it.
On the walls, there are a few pictures. They look like they were all put here after the fact as well. In each of them, I can see what looks like younger versions of Cormac, except there are deep crossed-out Xs on the face. It seems like he found every last reminder of what he used to be and tried to erase it from memory.
It’s sad, nearly heartbreaking.
I suck in a deep breath, but then start hack coughing nearly immediately. The dust in here is thick.
Is this what he’s hiding from me? His shame?
No, that’s not possible. I know all about his shame. There’s something else.
In the center of the room, there is one piece of furniture that doesn’t have much dirt or soot on it. It’s been used recently and frequently. I make my way to the desk and look on the top of it. It’s a simple oak wood desk, a little too large for my taste, but that’s not the point.
There are no papers on top.
I quickly start opening up the drawers. In one I find the contract I signed the night we were married folded up and put away. My eyes drift down to my signature. The lines aren’t smooth and the signature comes up off the line. It’s that way because my eyes were blurry from tears when I signed that paper.
I fold the paper back up and put it where I got it from. There are more important papers up here. A bank receipt from an account located somewhere in the Cayman Islands.
The balance?
Forty-five million dollars and change.
I whistle and quickly put that back. I guess we shouldn’t have too much of a problem replacing the roof when the time comes.
Closing that drawer, I open the one on top and realize it’s nearly full of handwritten letters.
At first, jealousy rears its ugly head when I think these are love letters written to some mystery woman. I’m actually disappointed when I realize that these aren’t love letters at all but instead letters from his father. It seems strange that they would handwrite notes to each other, but I guess it’s not unheard of.
Along with the letters from his father there are a few letters it looks like Cormac was working on and either didn’t finish or he crossed out a large portion and probably had to start over.
The first one I pick up nearly cracks me into pieces.
“…I’m doing exactly as you asked. You were the one who chose Brenna to be my wife. Now I’m having to deal with her. I’ll keep my end of the deal and by our first anniversary I’ll be well on my way to signing the divorce papers. She can be out of my life and the allegiance between the Doyle family and the O’Sullivan family will remain solid…”
A tear pops out of my eye and rushes down my cheek. I don’t need to read any more. This is it.
This is what he’s hiding from me.
His real plan when it comes to me.
