Stalked By The Mad Dog Nephew
Chapter 7
Avery slid into the back of the limousine. The door clicked shut, sealing her in.
She exhaled. It was a long, shuddering breath that seemed to empty her lungs completely. Her shoulders dropped three inches.
Charles was watching her in the mirror. He handed her a bottle of water without a word.
"It's done?" he asked.
"It's done," she confirmed. She unscrewed the cap and took a long drink. The water was cool, soothing her throat.
She touched her neck. It throbbed.
Charles saw the red finger marks on her skin. His hands tightened on the steering wheel until the leather creaked.
"I should kill him," Charles muttered. It wasn't a figure of speech.
"No need," Avery said, her voice raspy. "He's already dead inside. He just doesn't know it yet."
She leaned her head back against the seat. "Take me to the estate one last time, Charles."
Charles hesitated. "Are you sure? After..."
"Get Onyx," she said. "Only Onyx. I want my cat. I'm not setting foot in that house ever again. You go in. Get the carrier. Bring him out."
"And then?"
"Then take my things to the 5th Avenue apartment."
"The penthouse?"
"No," Avery said. "The other one. The one I bought three years ago under the shell company. The one nobody knows about."
Charles nodded. He put the car in gear.
Two hours later, Avery walked into the apartment on 5th Avenue. It was modern, stark, and cold. The furniture was covered in white dust sheets.
She walked in alone. Charles had dropped off her bags but had to return the car to the company garage.
The silence was heavy. It pressed against her ears.
Avery kicked off her heels. She walked to the kitchen and found a bottle of whiskey she had stored in the cupboard years ago. She poured a glass, her hands steady now.
She walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. New York City glittered below her, a sea of lights and indifference.
She took a sip. The burn was grounding.
Suddenly, a wave of loneliness crashed over her. It wasn't the longing for Augustus-God, no. It was the sheer, crushing weight of being alone in the universe. She had won. She was free. And she had absolutely no one to share it with.
She remembered her mother, dying in a hospital bed paid for by charity, while her stepfather, Jiles Thomas, bought a new yacht.
Avery touched her glass to the cold windowpane.
"Step one complete, Mom," she whispered.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. It was a notification from her offshore bank.
First Tranche Received: $200,000,000.00. Subject: Asset Liquidation Protocol.
She stared at the numbers. It was enough money to buy countries. It was freedom. It was power.
She smiled, but her lips felt stiff. The smile didn't reach her eyes.
She finished the whiskey in one gulp. Exhaustion, heavy and narcotic, pulled at her eyelids.
She walked to the bedroom, pulled the dust sheet off the bed, and collapsed onto the mattress fully clothed.
She slept fitfully, dreaming of storms and silver needles.
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