“Don’t sit here at my table and feed me lies in front of my ailing father. Have a little more respect.” I rise, staring down at my father in his catatonic state. His face twitches, and his eyes almost sputter to life. He looks up at me, then to Veronica.
“Ladies, what is going on?” he asks, appearing for a moment to be somewhat lucid.
Veronica’s lips waver and dance as she looks at me.
“Daddy, did you know Veronica made herself your sole medical power of attorney?” I ask.
He folds his meaty knuckled hands across his bulbous belly, his bushy white brows meeting in the middle.
“Yes, Serena. We made that decision together.” His words break my heart. He only thinks they made the decision together. I know manipulation when I see it. “You’re not well, princess. As soon as you’re back to yourself again, everything will go back to the way it was.”
“So if something happens to you—God forbid—you’re okay with Veronica making all your medical decisions?” I fold my arms, glaring at my evil-incarnate stepmother.
His face relaxes, and he stares ahead, groaning and grumbling under his breath. He shifts, uncomfortable in his wheelchair. And then he looks at me, his face twisted as a question mark.
“Who’s Veronica?” he asks.
I throw my hands in the air. Just like that, he’s gone. And it’s too late, because Veronica’s already weaseling her way into the family fortune. The day my father’s connected to a machine, she’ll be the first one telling the doctors to pull the plug—assuming she gets her way with the inheritance first.
At least when she shared medical power of attorney, there were safeguards in place.
“He has his moments, Serena. Please don’t be frustrated,” Veronica says. “Believe me when I say these decisions were discussed during his coherent stretches.”
“Right.” My lips form a hard line. “Is this all you came here for? Will you be on your way now?”
Bettina bursts through double doors with a tray full of food.
“Well, I thought we could all enjoy a lovely breakfast together,” Veronica says. “It’s been weeks since we shared a meal, and it’s such a beautiful morning. I thought maybe we could take it outside? The fresh air might help. Do you go outside much, sweetheart?”
Her question is a test. Of that I’m sure.
“I get plenty of fresh air,” I say. “Would be nice to have a car though. You know, so I can actually leave the grounds once in a while.”
“Oh, my love, that’s not a good idea. Dr. Rothbart doesn’t want you driving until your medications are balanced. That’s why you have a driver on call. If you want to leave, just ring Jameson, and he’ll pick you up.”
“He’s two hours away, and he’s your driver, and you use him everyday.”
“Then we’ll hire a new driver for you.” Veronica lifts a brow at the chef and points to the patio. “You’ve lived in the city for a long time. Driving’s not really your forte. Leave that to the professionals, shall we? That’s what Randalls do best.”
She chuckles.
“I’ll take my breakfast in my room,” I say to Bettina. Turning on my heel, I waste no time moving toward the stairs.
“Serena, do not walk away from me,” Veronica calls from behind. I don’t hear her footsteps. And she won’t chase me. It’s not her style. “Dr. Rothbart will be stopping by later this week for another evaluation. It doesn’t appear that you’re getting much better.”
I hear her shout out words like, “overly emotional” and “an embarrassment to the family” and “unacceptable, irrational behavior.” And I let her say what she needs to say. Soon enough, I’ll be gone. I’ll prove her wrong. I’ll prove her to be a criminal. And this will all be a distant memory.
I fly up the stairs and head to my prison suite, slamming the door behind me like a spoiled princess, and damn, does it feel good for all of two seconds.
A shock stops my heart cold when I see Veronica’s personal assistant, Julia, rifling through my drawers.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I fly to her side, gripping her wrist and yanking it from my things.
She’s frozen. A deer in headlights. “I’m so sorry, Serena.”
“I’m going to ask you one more time.” I release her, folding my arms. “What are you doing?”
Sputtering sounds leave her mouth and she eyes the door.
“You’re not leaving my room until you tell me, Julia.” I block her view of the exit. “This is completely inappropriate. Does Veronica know you’re up here?”
Her look tells me everything I need to know—everything I suspected.
“She put you up to this,” I say.
“Please,” she says. “Let me go. I don’t want to be a part of this.”
“What were you looking for?” I ask.
Julia hangs her head. “Please don’t do this to me, Serena. I was only doing as I was told. I can’t lose my job.”
“You won’t,” I say. “Just tell me.”
“Pills,” she blurts out, red-faced. “I was supposed to see if you were hoarding pills. Veronica was worried you were hoarding them so you could hurt yourself.”
My fists clench. Enough with the lies and illusions.
It has to end.
It’s gone on long enough, and it’s going way too far.