will never see the doctor again and you will marry Roderick. Do you hear me?”
A small bit of fight ignited. “Or else, what?”
He faced me, a grin on his face that made him appear evil and conniving. His lips curled into a snarl. “I can get copies of those images and video of you and the doctor on demand, my sweet daughter. And with a flick of a wrist, they would be all over the internet.”
“And you’d risk your own reputation just to ruin mine?” I asked.
“You’re not thinking, Alexandra,” he replied. “Dr. Stewart is a pediatrician. He works with children. Children with developmental disorders. His practice is the only one in the area that delivers quality care for children with those issues. The only one. How many parents do you think would continue to seek his medical services if they found out that he performs lewd acts in places virtually visible to the public eye? What do you think the board would have to say about that? How long do you think it would take before they revoked his medical license?”
I’ll be the first to admit that I was wrong. My father was malicious. He was willing to ruin a man’s entire career just to get what he wanted. It was as though the levels to which he’d had to stoop in the military to bring about order in a country was being transferred to the way he handled his family.
I looked over at Roderick and his expression was once again like the little boy that I would often feel sorry for. He wouldn’t meet my eyes directly, but I knew that he was watching me from their corners.
“You know what? Fine,” I resigned. “I don’t care anymore. Ethan and I are over anyhow. I won’t do anything else to interfere with his life. If these are lengths you’re willing to go to, so be it. Whatever. I’ll marry Roderick. I just don’t fucking care anymore.”
I returned to the stairway and didn’t wait to see if either of them would stop me before I ascended the stairs.
Chapter Fourteen
Ethan
The address was a dead end. At least, it was something like it. The address my mother had left led me to a single-story house that looked as though it hadn’t had an inhabitant in at least five years. The grass had grown high enough to obscure the slatted windows at the front, a few of which had pieces of plywood nailed across. Grass had cracked the concrete driveway to grow its way through, and the chain-link fence surrounding the property was rusted and falling apart. The carport looked as though it was ready to collapse at the first strong breeze that passed through. From my position at the end of the driveway, I could see the rusted bumper of an old Buick peeking from the backyard.
I hopped out of my rental and made my way into the yard anyhow, looking for any signs of life other than a hyperactive squirrel or oversized insects. It was springtime in Florida, which was unrecognizable from summertime in Florida. Humid heat scorched the back of my neck and warmed the apex of the baseball cap I’d thrown on. My forearms were already beginning to tan even deeper and sweat slicked my hair to my forehead.
There were other single-storied houses on the street, some with dogs or children playing in the yard. This one stood eerily desolate.
I peered into one of windows and the situation inside didn’t prove to be much better. The house was darkened, but I could still make out paint-stripped walls, the exposed wooden beams of an unfinished remodel, and tile floors covered by twigs, leaves, and branches. Yellow caution tape stretched from one side to the other and I reflexively searched the floor for chalk outlines.
“Can I help you?” a voice asked from the vicinity of the house next door. I turned to face a middle-aged woman with blonde curly hair and a black lab tugging on a leash by her side.
“I’m looking for someone,” I replied, walking up to the section of the fence that separated the two properties. “A woman used to live here probably a few years back now. This is the last known address that I have for her.”
Her forehead wrinkled and she absent-mindedly yanked on the leash. “What she look like?”
I started to respond but then realized how far into my memory I had to search to come up with a response. I was pretty