Lethal Wedding (Wedlocked Trilogy Book 2) - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,4

to marry a man that I not only loathe but also despise is ridiculous, but I might have to play the game a little bit if I want to help my father out of whatever mess he’d gotten himself into.

I know that I don't have to do that and maybe it's not even my place, but whose place is it?

I love my father, despite all of his shortcomings, and I want to help him in any way that I can.

Getting back together with Henry at this point will only complicate things.

There's something else, too.

The other thing that I can't bring myself to say out loud is the fact that if I were to get back together with Henry, I would have to tell him about Franklin Parks.

Franklin is not only Henry's boss, but he's also the person who can help my father with his charges and help Tate Media get over this little bump in the road.

I don't know the details of any of this and I need to guard what I do know carefully. Henry does work for him and though I don't think he would betray me, the less that he knows the better.

When I think about Franklin, my chest tightens.

He is Henry's boss and he's the one who sent him away. He told me that he did it to break us up, but he framed it as a joke.

Was it, or did he just say it to make me feel bad?

Or both?

As I walk away from him down a crowded New York street, I'm surrounded by a sea of people and I feel all alone.

I turn left and head toward Central Park.

I need to go somewhere where I can clear my head.

I need some nature in my life to help some of this make sense.

A few hours later, I get back to the hospital and spot an attorney sitting next to my mother.

4

Aurora

My mother, who has always been thin and trim, now looks frail and at least twenty years older than she really is.

She has been staying at the hospital for many days on end, only going home to shower and sleep for a few hours here and there.

Her dedication to my father is unnerving and never-ending, and I know that they have always been devoted to one another.

I admire that, but it doesn't change my complicated relationship with her.

I still have flashbacks back to that day when she showed up at my apartment and blamed me for everything that has happened to my father.

According to her, Franklin is the most powerful man in New York, if not the world, and everything that is happening right now, including the arrest and the heart attack, is my fault.

I take a deep breath as I walk down that loud linoleum floor toward the waiting area with a round collection of uncomfortable pink chairs, arranged to face the television on the other side of the wall.

The sound is off and the captions are so big that they take up half the screen. They are also about two minutes behind what the people are saying.

I watch a local reporter discuss a housefire in Staten Island, glancing at it occasionally as my mother talks to me.

She talks a lot under normal circumstances, but when she gets nervous, she talks at double her regular speed.

She gives me a brief update about my father. He is stable but the doctors are still watching his condition, whatever the hell that means.

She goes into the minutia of the medical evidence and all of the information goes in one ear and out the other. I've never been particularly good with biology and I have a D from 10th grade to prove it.

Eventually, I shift my attention to the stranger next to her, with his head buried in his phone. He's an attorney in his 50s with salt and pepper hair and the slim physique of someone who likes to work out and run a mile or two multiple times a week.

Is he the type to have a protein shake every morning and forgo all processed food? I wonder as I let my mind drift.

He introduces himself as Timothy Bradza and gives me a firm shake of his warm hand. He has a quiet demeanor that puts me at ease and I can see why my mother has retained him as counsel.

"Can you please tell my daughter what we talked about earlier?" Mom asks Timothy, looking away from me, annoyed and tapping her manicured nail on the plastic