secrets. I’d be violating her trust by setting eyes upon its contents.
I guess it’s a good thing I’m not Joey or Grant. Thinking that makes me feel even more guilty because now I can sense their judgment. With a resigned sigh, I decide I won’t look. I’ll just pick everything up and put it back in the box. Because I doubt Mom would want anyone accidentally discovering what was meant to be locked away.
I scoop up the loose papers and photos, shuffling them into a pile. A photo slips to the floor. I reach for it but freeze when I see the bold red lettering.
I pick up the picture by a corner and turn it over. It’s the same image I found in Brendan’s room—the one of him, his mother and Kaden. I flip the picture back over. Beneath the bold message is another, handwritten in black ink.
Another picture stares up at me from atop the stack. It’s of Maggie and who I assume to be my mother at the beach. But her face is cut out. I recoil. What is it with defiling faces that crosses the line from creepy to psychotic? Another note is written on the back in messy red marker.
I drop the photos. The messages I’ve been receiving … they’re not for me. They were written to my mother, years ago, from Brendan’s mother. And someone at Blackwood knew. Someone who has seen the contents of this box.
“How’s your mother?” I practically jump to the ceiling at the sound of his voice. The voice that won’t stop haunting me.
Vic.
I spin around. He sneers at me, his broad frame nearly filling up the door, wearing a black hoodie pulled up over his head. My teeth clench at the sight of him. In a sudden burst of rage, I rush at him, my shoulder tucked, determined to knock him to the ground. But he sidesteps before I make contact. I stumble and fall onto the threadbare carpet in the living room. I roll over just as he thrusts his boot into my stomach, knocking the air out of me. I gasp and pant for breath, curled in a ball.
“Heard she’s in the hospital. That’s too bad about her heart. But then again, she’s always been weak.” He crouches beside me, admiring the pain etched on my face with a lopsided smirk. “Isn’t that girl there too? Amazing they’re both still alive.”
I glower at him through teary eyes, still clutching my gut.
“Know that I can get to you or anyone you know. No one is out of my reach. So you’d better keep your mouth shut if you don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”
I throw a left-handed jab between his legs. He stumbles back with a cursing moan but catches himself before falling over. His face floods with color. I press up to my hands and knees. Grunting, he slams his boot down as if to stomp on my back. I flatten and roll, barely avoiding the heel that thumps against the floor. His other foot careens into my left kidney. I cry out as white-hot electric pain shoots up my back, instantly incapacitating me.
“You don’t belong at Blackwood. Once we’ve finished contesting the will, you’ll be back in the gutter, where you belong.”
He grabs a fistful of my hair and slams the side of my head against the floor. Pain ricochets through my skull, leaving black spots floating before my eyes.
“You’re nothing. I can make you disappear. And no one will be able to stop me.”
The steps creak. Vic releases my hair, and my head thumps against the worn carpet. I fight to push up to my hands and knees, but I’m too dizzy to rise and chase after him. A wave of nausea overtakes me. I close my eyes and clench my teeth to fight back the retching.
“Lana, what the—” Parker kneels next to me. “Who did this?”
I point toward the kitchen, unable to speak just yet. Parker races after the footsteps descending the back stairwell.
He returns a few minutes later, winded and cursing under his breath. I’m still on the floor with my back propped against the couch, a hand on my head and an arm wrapped around my stomach.
“He jumped the neighbor’s fence before I could grab him. I tried to follow, but I didn’t see where he went.” He growls in frustration while pacing in front of me. I half-expect him to punch a hole in the wall. He manages to reel in his