31

Dolly

There are many moments in life where our choices can change things for us.

When Edgar Shadowvale decided to launch his fake adoption business, he was in it for the money. He was into a lot of things for money.

“Are you okay?” I ask Oscar. We’re in bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Am I okay that my father trafficked children? Not really.”

“Maybe he thought he was doing a good thing.”

“He didn’t.”

“Maybe he’s done worse.”

“He has.” Oscar sighs. “But this is the most fucked-up.” He sits up and looks at me. “I’m going to tell the world what he did, Dolly.”

“What?”

“I’m telling everyone,” he says. “I’m going to burn it all down. I have more money than I know what to do with. I don’t care about any of it at all. I don’t care about these companies. I never wanted to run them.”

“So you want to stick it to your dad, huh?”

“I do.”

“I’m with you,” I say. “I think it’s the best fucking idea, Oscar.”

“People who do shitty things need to be exposed for it,” he says. “Your brother and Hank’s lives have been irreparably damaged from what my father did.”

“You still don’t have all of the answers,” I say. “You don’t know what your stepmom or her sister did, or how they were involved.”

“None of that matters,” he says. “And I don’t care. All I care about is destroying my father’s legacy. My brothers will help.”

I nod, and I snuggle up against Oscar.

“You’re doing the right thing,” I say.

And I truly believe that.

The two of us connected in the most unlikely of circumstances, but now that I’m here, I don’t think there’s any going back. I need him more than I need anything else. I crave him.

“I need you,” Oscar says. “Although I’m not happy with how we got together.”

“What? You don’t think stealing your abductor and making her fall in love with you was a good idea?” I laugh. “What would be a better story?”

“I don’t know what would be a better story, but I can promise you one thing: you’re the only morsel for me.”

Epilogue

Phoenix

There’s never been a good time to say goodbye to your family.

When you stand in front of the priest on your wedding day, you promise to love your partner forever. You believe it. At least, I did. Emma did. Together, we were supposed to be unstoppable.

Our dream was to conquer the world together. We’d give our money away, and we’d spend all of our time helping people.

Emma wanted to build libraries, and I did, too. We wanted to pay for classes. We wanted to create jobs.

And then we had Tamara.

And then we had Quinton.

Our children were perfect, wonderful little creatures whose biggest hobbies were making us laugh and making us think too hard.

I cherished every moment, and then they were over.

Car accidents are things that happen to other people. Not me. Not my family.

Only, then it happened.

Now they’re gone.

It’s been four years since I lost my wife and our children, and now, as I stand at their graves, I weep.

I do this every Sunday morning. It’s just me and Gerald here. He’s standing by his own wife’s grave. He’s doing the same damn thing because we’re just two broken men who don’t know any better.

“I miss you,” I say.

Emma can’t hear me, but I want her to know this anyway.

“I need you.”

She’s never coming back.

I kneel in front of her tombstone, and I whisper our favorite song lyrics. I sing to her until my throat hurts, and then I walk quietly back to the car. I slide into the driver’s side, and I wait. I’m not sure what I’m waiting for, and I’m not sure how long I sit, but I do.

Then, finally, I start driving.

Somehow, I end up at the office. I ride quietly up in the elevator until I reach the top floor. It’s here that I slip out of the elevator, creep down the hall, and head toward my office. There’s always work to be done, and even though it’s Sunday, I want to be here.

Most of the employees follow a strict no-weekends policy. I don’t expect my staff to work weekends. Honestly, I don’t want them there.

So imagine my surprise when I push open my office door, and the room isn’t empty.

It’s not even close.

The woman standing in the center of the room turns when she sees me.

“Oh,” she says.

“Oh.”

“It’s you.”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” she says.

No, I’m not.

The story continues in Dirty Little Billionaires: Book Three.

About the Author

Sophie Stern writes good girls, bad girls, sassy girls, and feisty girls. She writes girls who are curvy, happy, sad, excited, battling for their lives, and ready to save the world. She likes for her characters to be relatable and dreamy.

Most of the time, there are cats in her books. Sophie lives in Kansas City with her family, including their four cats. Echo is the one who sat with her while she wrote this book.

For cat pictures, be sure to join Sophie’s mailing list.