Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
"I got a new number."
"And you didn't think it was pertinent to give it to me?"
I pull my new cell phone from my purse and shoot off a text to him. "Now you have it. Besides, my office line works. You could easily call me on that one."
"There are certain conversations we can't have on unsecured lines."
I open my mouth to remind him he's being paranoid, but then I remember why I had to get a new phone in the first place. I didn't know if they were able to tap phone lines, so I opted for a brand-new number just to be safe.
For some reason, I made sure Mr. Anderson had it but didn't consider William needing it as well.
"What is this?" I ask, picking up the statement, but I know what this conversation is going to be about the second my eyes lock on the ten-thousand-dollar transaction.
"Why exactly are you tracking my transactions?" I snap.
I hate the idea of anyone knowing what I've been doing, but my little brother finding out I went there makes my skin crawl. I still feel dirty for what I participated in while I was there, despite everyone's assurances that they were there of their own free will.
"Everything we do is being tracked. I'm just glad our people found this before someone else did."
"We're being tracked?"
William hisses a huff of irritation. "All politicians are tracked and everyone connected to them. Donors want to know we're spending their money where we said we would. Constituents want to know we aren't living too lavish of a lifestyle while they suffer. Opponents want to find dirt on our families to splash across the media. Of course, we're being tracked."
"This is private," I snap, waving the paper between the two of us.
"Nothing is private! You should know that better than anyone. Care to explain why you were at a fucking brothel?"
I snap my head back at his anger. William can usually keep it together, making this a side of him I don't see very often.
"Care to explain why they asked me if I wanted to put my visit on the family account or if I wanted to pay for it separately?" I counter.
This gives him pause. "What?"
"Apparently, we have a family account."
"Chris?" he says. "Jesus Christ, this family is fucking doomed."
"What? No. He wouldn't. Would he?"
Will turns back to look at me. "Then who—no, gross. Not Dad."
I hold my hand up, the threat of bile burning the back of my throat.
"Seriously," he mutters, his nose scrunching up in disgust.
There aren't many times in recent years when William and I share a brother-sister moment, but I feel a level of solidarity with him for a brief second.
"I went there because it was the place those men mentioned in the meeting about Sadie," I explain. "I thought maybe I could find something out."
"You paid them a hundred thousand dollars so we don't have to go looking for her ourselves."
"I paid because I had no idea how to look for her."
"That is so dangerous," he says. "Not to mention the trouble you put the family in if someone saw you there and thought it would be a good idea to start whispering about it."
"I didn't see anyone other than employees. It was actually very discreet and professional."
He narrows his eyes at me. "And what exactly did you do while you were there?"
I stand a little taller, my lips sealed.
"I'm not discussing this with you. What is the plan for this transaction?" I ask, holding up the statement.
"My people have already made it look like a donation and, before you lose your shit, we won't file it on our taxes. I'm not going to fucking prison over ten grand." He turns his back to me, walking toward the door. "I'm busy, Cora. Stay out of trouble."
Then he's gone as if his warning and the chastisement are enough to keep me from worrying about our sister.
I've been restless since I got back from DC and this little visit from my brother has made that urge to get some answers even worse.
I knew before he showed up that I wouldn't be able to stay away. A week has passed since Cerberus assured us they'd start working on finding Sadie. We're inching up on a month of her being gone, and we're no closer to finding her than we were the day I started worrying when my initial phone call went to voicemail.
I check in once again with Alice to make sure that she is completely prepared for the luncheon with some potential new donors before calling it a day.
I try to tell myself I haven't made up my mind about my plans, but I head straight to my bedroom when I get home, not wasting a second to pack a bag that will give me enough clothes to stay at least a week before having to drop anything off at the cleaners.