Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Needless to say, I know this isn’t some robbery like the shit actors, except for Landon, tried to convince us of. They got their stories straight, but it was all too perfect and had Lan’s scheming stench all over it.
I’m curious to know what drove them to go to such lengths.
The only one who can answer my question is none other than my nephew, Landon. The others are easier nuts to crack and would bring me faster results under duress, but he’s the mastermind behind this and, therefore, he’s hiding the true reason.
One problem, though. He’s been methodically avoiding being cornered by me.
An issue that I’m currently finding a way around. Just like I found a way to have Elsa actually rest instead of straining herself.
My gaze flits to Creighton and helplessness bangs against my rib cage. The fact that I can’t do anything to get him out of this state, short of inventing a time machine, wraps around my neck like a noose.
Eli is my biological son, my flesh and blood, and the only son I thought I could father, but it’s Creighton who’s has been the son I didn’t know I needed.
He’s the one who randomly texts me a new fact he’s learned or makes sure I’m included whenever that punk Eli tries to antagonize me for sport.
He plays the mediator between us, the link that keeps our father-son relationship functioning. Without him, we’d probably fall apart.
Not once have I considered him any less just because we don’t share DNA. Creighton is proof that family doesn’t depend on blood, and I considered him a miracle, just like Elsa did.
“Wake up, son,” I whisper, my voice gaining a haunting quality in the silence.
I know he can’t hear me, but I’m ready to try any method, including satanic rituals, if it means we can get him back.
Which could start with pestering the doctor. So I do just that, barge into the chief doctor’s office while he’s in a meeting.
He and his associates gape at me as if I’m the devil fresh out of hell.
“Mr. King…is there anything I can do for you?”
“Besides actually being competent and bringing my son back to consciousness?”
Dr. Strauss, a bald old man with bulging brown eyes and a pointy nose, appears flustered. “As I told you, we’ve done everything we could.”
“Not enough to make me pour more donations into this establishment and satisfy your research kinks.”
“Mr. King—”
“If he doesn’t wake up in the next twenty-four hours, I’m transferring him back to London and cutting off my checks.”
I don’t wait for his reply as I stride out of the room, not feeling even the slightest bit relieved.
Stopping by the vending machine, I pause when a finger comes from behind me and hits Water.
“Only mineral water is good from these waste-of-space machines, right?”
I grab the bottle and turn to face my nephew.
Lan leans back against the wall, arms and ankles crossed as a shadow of a smile tilts his lips. “Hi, Uncle.”
“That didn’t take long.”
“You can’t just text me that you can hand me information and not expect me to show up. Though it’s a low blow, Uncle. You all but dug a hole in the place where my heart used to be.”
“Quit the dramatics, and stop hanging out with Remi and picking up his nasty habits. Now, tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“The truth about what happened to Creighton. Who did that to him?”
“Nah, I planned that whole thing all too carefully, I can’t just tell you my secrets.”
“Either you tell me or there will be no deal.”
“Jesus. You sure we’re actually family?”
“Probably a mess-up in genetics.”
He chuckles, the sound easy. “Well, I’m not that opposed to spilling the truth, but it depends on whether or not you’ll hate me if you know I was the one who dug up and shed light on Creighton’s past.”
My jaw clenches, but I force the discomfort down. Deep down, I knew there would be a day when Creighton would get in touch with his past, no matter how much my father and I tried to block it.
“You’re not mad?” Lan asks slowly.
“I’ll beat you the fuck up later, but that doesn’t answer why he’s in this state.”
“Thing is, Creigh always wanted revenge, so when he found out the name of the couple who caused the demise of his family, he went after their son.”
“Is he the one who shot him?”
“Nope, his sister did. I swear to fuck, I didn’t think that Barbie doll had it in her, but then again, maybe I underestimated her, considering she’s a mafia princess.”
“A mafia princess,” I repeat, not asking a question.
Of course.
Elsa and I first met Creighton in the States when we were visiting my friend, Asher Carson. Back then, his wife, Reina, was sponsoring a three-year-old orphan in one of the organizations she runs.
He looked lifeless and scrawny and apparently escaped death by an inch.