CHAPTER 5

I pulled my wrist away from Sebastian. He smiled.

“You’re shaking, what did he accuse you of this time?” He asked.

He’d been watching me, again. “Do you have a problem with respecting privacy and personal space or you’re just a creep?” I ask maintaining eye contact even though my nerves sparked warnings to get away from there.

“Keira Pierre,” he slurred wickedly “you didn’t think a change of surname was going to spare you, did you?”

Blood pounded in my ears, he knew me, of course he would. I take a step back.

“You didn’t think, changing your name to Reed would keep your identity hidden. Did you?” He said taking a step forward.

“I know who you are.” I retort squaring up to him. “Sebastian Gates.”

He let’s out a cold laugh, “I’d think you were slow if you didn’t.”

“Although I suspect you might be, showing up here like this.” He hooked a finger under my chin. I moved to slap it away, he grips my wrist, a serpentine smile still on his face.

“At least you’re braver than your father.” He murmurs.

“Don’t you dare speak of my father Sebastian!” I snap, anger fueling me. I jerk my hand, but he grips it even tighter. I hold back a wince.

“Still the same hot headed Kiera, I see.” A smile I didn’t appreciate on his face.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, my voice slightly shaking.

“You’re family business” he answered.

A figure stepped into view of Sebastian and I. “Step away from her.” Adrian said in a calm voice that still sounded like a heavy warning. He didn’t spare me a look, his eyes were fixed on Sebastian.

Sebastian let my wrist go and straightened slowly, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve.

“Relax, I was making sure she didn’t fall over.” He said smiling and glancing at me.

Adrian still stood cold and holding eye contact with him. He seemed to get the message and stepped aside. He murmured something I didn’t hear while passing Adrian.

Adrian finally looked at me, “Are you always this careless?” He said.

“Why? You don’t care what happens to me.” I said emotionally exhausted. His jaw tightened. He hesitated a moment too long, then spoke.

“Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not saving you. I just won’t let you ruin anyone else’s life.”

I winced. He walked away.

The evening had already sobered me up. Marti was dead drunk when I found her, I drove us back to the dorm. I had struggled, moving her from the car to the room. She now lay dressed in her PJs in bed.

I sat at my study desk reflecting on what had happened.

Sebastian was going to pose a problem to me, and I hated to admit I was scared of what he could do. He knew who I was, I wasn’t surprised but I hoped he wouldn’t. He had changed a lot since the last time since I’d set my eyes on him, four years ago at a black tie event. Adrian had introduced him to me as his second cousin. Even then I hadn’t liked him. He was such snob, even Adrian wasn’t fond of him. It wasn’t a surprise much hadn’t changed.

I hadn’t recognized him at class earlier that day, even though he looked familiar. It was the buzz cut. Until Marti had mentioned he was related to Adrian, did I figure it out. I had hoped to meet him at the party. I needed to find out how much he knew, and I suspected he’d be watching, and would want to cross me again. I just hadn’t expected it to go the way it did that evening, until Adrian saved me. Saved me? He did get me out of it. I wasn’t going to think about that now. I had other things to do.

I picked up my phone. Mom had called earlier, I missed it. I checked the clock sitting on my desk 1:47am. It was too late to call her back. She’d be sleeping. I hope she was. It had been two days since I had last heard from her. I sent her a text, promising I’d call at a better time. I hoped she was okay.

I had dozed off when a mail notification pinged, I jerked up, I thought it was mom. It wasn’t.

I sat up again. My thoughts drifted back to the note. I pulled it out of my textbook and studied it again under the glow of the study lamp. What was going to be in the locker? What was it they knew? Who was it even? There was no use asking, they didn’t seem like they wanted to be known. But was it sensible trusting an anonymous written note? What if it was a trap? I had no choice. I’d have to find out.

I stood up, checked that Martina was still fast asleep and walked to my bed frame. I buried my hand under my bed and pulled out a medium sized brown envelope, and sat on my bed, unfolding it. I pulled out a photo of my father tucked away in the envelope.

Father was dressed in a cream coloured polo shirt, a large smile was spread across his face and he had one of his hands up in a mock salute.

I still remember like yesterday when he had this photo taken. I’d gone with him to play golf with Victor Voss, Adrian’s father. I hugged the photo to my chest and quietly began to sob.

Two years didn’t seem to water down the grief of losing him the way I and mama did. Mama hadn’t been herself since he passed. I always tried to be strong for her even when all I wanted to do was scream and kick at something. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did, his wife and child didn’t have to go through all that hell.

The days after his death, I had painfully watched mama shrivel up while begging her to eat and sleep. She’d sit in his favourite chair and veil herself in his shirts, sobbing for hours on end. If she wasn’t doing that, she’d stare blindly all day at the door, as if waiting for him to barge in and say it was all a costly joke. I’d beg her to eat, she’d only glance at me and go right back to staring.

I had called Aunt Frieda one night, a week later crying. I told her mom had only been having water and was barely using the wash room. Aunt Frieda arrived, I call it magic that she was able to feed mama, wash and put her to bed. She’d stayed for months ensuring I and mama were safe and okay. She’d even hired a therapist to visit the house and have sessions with mama. Only then did mama begin to come back to us. But even still, she never was the same.

The tears didn’t stop even when I put the photo away and pulled from the envelope weathered newspaper cutouts. The first read “Matriach of the Voss family dies in tragic attack and assassination.” I thumb through, eyes still blurry. The next one I focused on read “Tom Pierre of Voss & Pierre group of industries convicted of murdering long time best friend and partner’s wife, Holly Voss.”