by Sofia Daniel
A limo pulled into the side road, and the policewoman asked, “Is that your transportation, My Lord?”
“It is,” replied Edward.
“Alright, you lot.” She hooked her thumb in the direction of the road. “You’re free to go.”
Duncan sagged. “At last.”
Henry placed a protective arm around my waist, reminding me of the reason he had wanted to come down to London. Mr. Carbuncle. Even if the janitor was hiding in an alley, I doubted he would cause trouble with the boys surrounding me and with so many police officers milling about, but I kept close to his side, just in case.
Resting my head on Henry’s shoulder, I muttered, “I can’t believe she got away with yet another heinous crime.”
Henry pressed his lips on my temple and guided me into the limo. My torso ached so much, I slumped into the nearest seat and didn’t scoot up.
“We still have a few more weeks until the end of term.” Blake stepped in after me and sat at my side. “Plenty of time to even the score.”
Edward climbed in and sat next to Blake, and Henry entered and sat on Edward’s other side. Duncan was the last to enter, and I exhaled a sigh of relief. I’d probably sleep for the rest of the journey and roll into breakfast late tomorrow on Sunday.
Charlotte stepped into the limo.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I snapped.
Her eyes flashed. “You heard the police. They want us out of here.”
“Let’s leave this area,” said Edward. “We can deal with her in a moment.”
She gave him a grateful smile and settled into the seat next to Duncan. “Thank you, Edward.”
He folded his arms across his chest and didn’t reply.
The limo backed out of the side road and drove away from Tower Bridge into a street occupied by offices and very little else. After ten turns, we reached a heavily trafficked road that led to the bridge. Edward clicked on the intercom. “Could you stop the car, please? One of us wishes to leave.”
I turned to Charlotte and snarled, “Get out.”
Her mouth opened and closed, and she gaped as though we were leaving her in the middle of the Sahara Desert.
“Get out,” said Blake, “unless you want Emilia to drag you out by the hair.”
“What?” Charlotte glanced through the window. “But it’s deserted out there.”
“So was that empty apartment with your brother and Mr. Carbuncle,” I spat.
“But that wasn’t me!”
The driver opened the door, letting in the roar of fast-moving traffic, but Charlotte didn’t budge. “Please… Don’t leave me out here. What if something happens to me?”
“She has a point, chaps,” said Duncan. “It looks rather dangerous out here.”
“Then get out and keep her company,” I spat.
Duncan lowered his gaze and folded his arms across his chest.
“Alright.” She stepped out of the limo. “But if I get hurt, my boyfriend will make your life a living hell, Emilia Hobson!”
“Maybe he can pick you up,” I snapped. “Carbuncle might need someone to accompany him on the run.”
The driver shut the door, rushed back into his seat, and pulled away, leaving Charlotte on the side of the road, holding her high-heeled pumps. I stared after her, insides still roiling with fury. After everything she had done, I couldn’t feel an ounce of pity for the wretched bitch.
Blake slipped his hand into mine. “Are you alright?”
“Much better, now that she’s gone.”
The limo drove through London and into a familiar street.
“There’s the Royal Academy,” said Edward.
Blake snickered. “Do you remember getting thrown out for just talking to Emilia?”
“You must not touch the woman of Mr. Bachmann,” Henry mimicked in a thick, Russian accent.
I glanced up at the throng of people leaving the royal academy. A few photographers stood on the edges of the red carpet, politely taking photos of the leaving guests. It was nothing like the feeding frenzy I’d endured with Blake in Kensington Town Hall.
One of the guests, a blonde woman sashaying down the red carpet, caught my eye. She stood six-feet tall, wearing the kind of magenta tuxedo dress Mrs. Simpson-West would die for… if only she had the height. Its silk collar and lapels shimmered in the light of the camera flashes.
Just before she entered her car, I glanced at her face, and a boulder of shock hit me through the gut.
“M-mom?”
“Stop the car,” said Edward into the intercom.
The limo slowed, but before it stopped, I opened the door and stumbled out.
“Emilia!” someone snarled from the limo.
I ran alongside the row of parked cars, heart racing, my eyes fixed on Mom’s car. Her Bentley pulled out from the space, and I ran in the middle of the road, not giving him the chance to overtake me.
“Fuck, Emilia!” shouted Blake from behind.
The car stopped, and I placed my hands on its warm bumper, scrambled around its perimeter, and pounded on the back door.
“What are you doing?” said the stern voice of the driver.
“It’s alright.” Mom stepped out and beamed. “That’s my daughter.”
Blake grabbed my shoulder. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”
Mom rushed forward and wrapped me into a Chanel Number Five-scented hug. My arms hung lifelessly at my sides. How could she act so warm after ignoring me for three terms?
“It’s so wonderful to see you,” she murmured into my ear. “I know you’re busy, but it means so much to me that you changed your mind about coming to London.” She drew back and beamed, her gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “Is this Charles? I don’t know why you refused to send me a photo. He’s gorgeous!”
“Ummm…” Where did she get that name? I exchanged a confused glance with Blake and made introductions. My mind whirred with possibilities. Mom’s eyes were as sharp as ever, so I could rule out drugs. Henry and Edward strolled over, and I introduced them to Mom.
Her brows drew together. “You never mentioned any of these handsome devils in your texts!”
My thoughts jumped to Edward’s father, and my throat closed up. A car beeped as it overtook the Bentley and beeped again as it overtook Edward’s limo.
“L-let’s continue this conversation on the sidewalk,” I said.
We all moved out of the road, and the boys surrounded me like bodyguards. An idea formed in my head that would explain Mom’s strange behavior, but it was too heinous to voice… Yet. I kept her talking, trying to eke out what had happened on her end.
She told me we had texted each other daily, and I updated her with my heavy workload at Mercia Academy but had refused to send her any pictures of myself and my friends. I hadn’t received a single text from her, and hadn’t told her anything about my life at the academy, so who the fuck impersonated me and gave her all these bogus facts?
“I know what’s happened.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Mom’s head tilted to the side. “What are you talking about, darling?”
My mouth opened and closed, and I stared into her smoky eyes. Mom overreacted all the time. If I told her tonight, she would probably confront Rudolph, and one of two things would happen. Either Rudolph would arrange for Mom or me to get hurt, or he would twist facts around to make me look like a psycho jealous of her own mother’s happiness.
Cold fury filled my veins, and I paused, needing time to work out how much Rudolph had done to Mom and me over the last nine months, and how I could pay him back for everything I'd suffered.
Mom’s smile faltered. “Darling?”
“It's been a strenuous few hours.” I gestured at the boys who still stood behind me like a human shield. “Hey, Mom?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I lost my phone recently and had to get a new one. Can you call my number?”
Confusion crossed her features, but
she pulled her phone out from her purse and clicked the icon marked EMILIA.
My phone, which had the same number as before, didn’t even vibrate. Someone must have hacked into her smartphone and changed the number she held for me to the impostor’s. That same person must also have changed Mom’s number, so I wouldn’t reach her. With her Manhattan apartment sold, I would have no way of contacting her except via Rudolph.
I schooled my expression and handed her my smartphone, “Why don’t you tap your number in here, and I’ll call you back?”
“Sure.”
Palpitations reverberated in my heart, sending shockwaves of fury through my bones. Fucking Rudolph. Not only had he sent me away to Mercia Academy, but he had changed Mom’s number and gotten someone else to impersonate me and exchange messages with her. Was he so insecure about his relationship with Mom that he needed to keep us apart?
She handed back my smartphone, and I held onto her hand.
“Are you happy, Mom?” I asked.
A smile broke out across her face. “I think so. Rudy’s so busy with his companies, and I have my functions. It works.”
My face remained impassive, but on the inside, my blood boiled with the need for payback. Theories slotted into place in my mind, but I needed time to think. “How long will you be in London?”
“Until Monday morning, then I’ll fly to Paris. Why?”
“Because I want to meet you tomorrow. Where are you staying?”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a card for The Dorchester Hotel.
I wrapped my arms around her and whispered, “See you tomorrow. Can we meet for breakfast?”
She kissed my temple and drew back, cupping my face in her hands. Happy tears filled her eyes, and I wondered if she had spent months fretting over why I had been so distant.
“I’d love to,” she murmured.
The four of us walked back to the limo in silence, and a bunch of questions rolled to the forefront of my mind. Who told Charlotte I was the Saturday Correspondent leak? Who was rich enough to fund Charlotte’s education and pay for her cosmetic surgery? How was Mr. Carbuncle able to disappear, despite being wanted for kidnapping and assault? Who kept making Charlotte’s criminal problems go away?
They all had the same answer: Rudolph.
At the time, it had seemed odd that Blake had found me before the reporters and the police. They should have been able to work out which floor I’d been taken by the footage or the number of times I’d been bumped on the stairs. Jackie hadn’t once mentioned never hearing Charlotte discuss a party she had been planning in London. Had she known I would walk into an ambush? Why had I been sent up there alone, when there were interns in the back of the van?
Hot, furious breaths steamed out from my nostrils. Everything was consistent with Rudolph’s desire to build up the Saturday Correspondent and to separate me from Mom.
If I eventually succumbed to Mr. Carbuncle’s rages and died, who would be there to pick up the pieces for Mom? That sick, twisted old fuck. That’s who.
I stepped into the limo and leaned back into its leather seat. As soon as the boys had settled in, I clicked the intercom button.
“Turn the car around,” I said. “We’re going back for the young lady we left behind.”
END OF BOOK THREE
READ BOOK FOUR
From Sofia Daniel
Thank you for reading this update to Emilia’s story! If you enjoyed Deposed, please recommend it to your friends and take a moment to leave a review. A sentence or two can make the difference to a book!
Want teasers for upcoming books? Join my reader group, Sofia’s Study Group.
Payback (Kings of Mercia Academy)
Captured (Academy of Vampires)
Wicked Elites (Bully Boys of Brittas Academy)
www.SofiaDaniel.com
