Page 42 of Wicked Promises

Minor things.

If I spoke out, I’d be painted a liar. I’d never see a drop of my inheritance. He’d move me to the most remote boarding school he could find, just so that I’d never have the chance to get my hands on Margo Wolfe.

That was all I wanted. All I could focus on.

Shemade this my reality.

But… no one ever thought to stop my uncle. Not even the Blacks were successful, although they sure as hell tried.

He had my entire inheritance to use on lawyers, and he liked to threaten to drain it before I turned eighteen. He had the upper handalways.

I picked myself up just as Eli’s mom pulled into the school driveway. I did my best to wipe the blood from my face, but my jaw and lip were hot to the touch. There was no hiding that.

“Caleb!” she yelled. She left the car and raced toward me. “Oh my God. What happened?”

I was living with them, and it was a small blessing. Nothing more.

She touched my cheek, and I winced.

“Uncle David had some choice words,” I mumbled.

She clucked. “He had more than some choicewords. This is ridiculous. We’ll fight it.” She nodded, bolstering herself up. “You’ll be safe with us.”

Doubt it.

Guardianship would be as far as Uncle let the Blacks take it. I knew it already.

Up against him, it would always be a losing battle.

Chapter 13

Margo

Ms. McCaw is prompt, and I am exhausted.

She doesn’t say anything about my messy hair or the dark circles under my eyes. I barely slept last night, and the school day was filled with stares and whispers. Inaudible whispers. It seemed like whenever I tried to overhear something, they moved along.

My shadows probably had something to do with that.

First it was Caleb. Then Theo. Liam. Eli. Caleb again, escorting me up the spiral steps to Robert’s classroom. There was a sub—of course—who read from a basic substitute teacher lesson plan. There wasn’t anything more in-depth, because the teacher in question has been unconscious since the accident.

We played with watercolors and called it a day, but even that was hard. The whole class was quiet, verging on forlorn. News had spread about Mr. Bryan. Everyone knew where he was.

Caleb brought me to the Bryans’ house, where Ms. McCaw meets me. We sit at the kitchen table, and every blink is painful. My eyes feel like sandpaper.

“He’s been moved out of ICU,” my social worker tells me. “I talked to Lenora this morning, to make sure you’d be able to see him.”

Caleb goes home. Ms. McCaw takes me to the hospital.

I watch the houses flash by from the passenger seat.

“You okay?” Ms. McCaw asks.

I shove away thoughts of Caleb and focus on her. She’s the one who had me believing my dad went to jail for drugs, notmanslaughter.

“I tried to look up Dad’s trial coverage,” I say, watching her reaction.

She doesn’t flinch. “What were you hoping to find?”