Betrayal, Secrets & Love

Betrayal

Someone shook Milira's world, turned it over, and thrust it forward like an alabaster on clean tile. She dug her nails into the leather couch, gulping down Dean's words. The news stuck in her ears and refused to be digested. A trickle of anxiety morphed into her subconscious.

One moment her future laid among the unknown, the next it's solidified in stone. However, the responsibility of owning all Alexander's holdings, meant she would be thrown into a world she might not be able to handle. She knew the estate the best but Alexander never gave her formal training of the do's and don'ts. The employees would be dependent of her, the same counted for the estate affairs, the grounds and everything else she didn't know about. She could delegate and seek out those who did know but the questions still rung out in her mind. Why give it to her? Why not divide the estate into three? Herself, her mother and her aunt? Surely, if he did, everyone would have benefited from it?

A hollow mock laughter cracked over her lips and her eyes locked with the staid stranger. Where did he fit into the picture? Nausea pressed against her stomach walls and a touch of lightheadedness made her grow still before she tumbled sideways. Whoever the stranger was, she couldn't deal with him right now, instead, she chose to ignore him and his wisdom of her inheritance and focused on Dean.

"You're joking, right?"

"Should we request that Mr. Fletcher repeat the process?" The stranger said with an arctic sarcasm.

His voice, too overbearing to shove aside disrupted Milira's focus on Dean and made her turn towards him with a glare. His hand tightened around a glass of untouched liquid until his knuckles turned pale. At the rate he applied pressure to the glass, Milira feared the crystal would burst without him noticing. Why direct his scorn in her direction when she's lost so much? His insolence rushed at her and sucker-punched her.

"Who the hell are you?" She snipped. She wanted an explanation, not later, now! The growing anger in her would, for the time being, drown out all other emotions and help her be firm. This time, he wouldn't shove his presence under the rug.

The air grew thick and Dean Fletcher melted into the background.

"Damon Carleton."

His name slipped from his lips with ease, but it hung between them for a fraction, swirling in her mind as she recalled why it appeared familiar. She tested the name out on her tongue.

"Damon Carleton." She repeated with mindfulness and then scrunched up her nose at the slip of his name in front of him. The note from yesterday gutted her. He wrote it! She wondered how anyone knew of her uncle's passing, but he knew because he heard the news first hand at The Wondale's. Why is he so different and so hostile? Her gut told her he might be a step ahead of her and knew information she didn't but what? Instead of asking either two of the questions she rattled of a third more idiotic question, "How are you related to John and Drake Wondale? You don't share their surname."

Damon sighed but didn't revert his gaze. His jaw stiff as he spoke. "They are my father's adopted brothers."

Milira nodded in an uncaring understanding and gulped back her hesitance, "Why are you here?"

Damon Carleton's lip twitched before his eyes slithered towards Dean Fletcher who defrosted with a cough. She waited as Dean readjusted his reading glasses while his finger fiddled with the edge of the report he read from earlier.

Milira's heart sank to her shoes and stayed there. Everything went wrong. She shouldn't be choking inside her uncle's beloved room. She should be surprised and be honored that Alexander entrusted her with his most prized possessions, but she couldn't shake her rolling stomach. She crossed her legs only to uncross them and lean forward. Her full attention swayed to Dean.