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Chapter 16
Samara stood there, tongue–tied, her comeback shot down hard. She stayed quiet, totally stumped.
Gavin, off to the side, kept sneaking glances at Joanna.
One thought spun in his head like a broken record. ‘She’s Ariel’s sister… same mom. That makes her my sister!My sister! So I’ve got you covered, always!‘
But here’s the kicker: Gavin was actually Joanna’s younger brother.
Ariel got smacked around, and even Howell, who usually dodged family drama, was fuming.
He shouted, “What’s going on? Fighting in my house? What if she’d gotten killed? You know how pricey burials are these days?”
Samara ignored his whining, wiping tears and piling on the guilt.”Exactly! Ariel’s an angel, and Joanna just snapped her finger and bashed her head!
“She’s got that big piano recital soon–she’s a freaking prodigy! What now?”
“And college apps are coming up! Ariel’s aiming for Harvard. If her head’s messed up, Joanna’s basically sabotaging her!”
Samara’s sobs kept coming, giving Howell a headache. He sighed, pulling her into a half–hearted hug.
“Relax, babe. I’ve got the best doctors. Ariel’s gonna be okay,” Howell comforted.
That didn’t cut it for Samara. She glared at him. “Joanna’s my kid, but—”
Howell cut in, all fake–sweet.“Hey, your daughter’s my daughter. I’ll take care of her, no favorites. Promise.”
Samara wasn’t impressed. ‘No favorites? Shouldn’t he be kicking that little delinquent out?‘
Stunned, she watched Howell pat her arm and go back to his calligraphy.
She followed, not dropping it. “Your kid’s hurt, Howell. You’re not even gonna see her?”
He nodded, barely listening. “Yeah, I’ll pop in soon. Chill.”
“Soon” meant nothing–he didn’t budge.
Samara’s temper flared. Her past as the “other woman” made her hesitate, but she leaned in, rubbing his shoulders.
“I know you’ve got a soft spot for me and Ariel, but she’s a kid, Howell,” she said. “She’s hurt. Doesn’t she need her dad right now?”
Howell didn’t look up. “Take my card. Buy her something nice.”
Samara’s jaw tightened. ‘300 thousand bucks? That’s it? Cheapskate!‘
That wasn’t what she wanted.
“Joanna’s from the sticks,” she pushed. “That fancy furniture you got her? She sleeps on the floor with some old blanket. And those diamonds, that pearl lamp? She’ll probably pawn ‘em.
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table instead.”
Howell shrugged, still scribbling. “Sure, she can have it. I don’t care. I didn’t even buy that stuff—”
The study door got kicked open with a bang.
A silver–haired guy in a black trench, shirtless underneath, stormed in, looking pissed. Gavin shot Samara an icy stare, then raised an eyebrow at Howell.“I’m the one who hit her! My sister’s got nothing to do with it!”
Howell hadn’t seen Gavin in forever and was about to snap at him for being a brat when he noticed the hunting rifle in one hand and brass knuckles on the other.
This kid looked ready to blow his head off.
Howell swallowed hard. “I’m still figuring this out—”
Before he could finish, a slick voice cut through. “Hold up. Someone’s trying to boot my little sister?”
Simon swaggered in, white shirt unbuttoned to show a hint of collarbone, silver belt buckle gleaming.
He smirked at Samara. “So, what, someone got smacked? She’s not dead, right? Why the meltdown? My sister’s probably freaked out with all this blood, and you don’t even care. Some mom, huh?”
Samara choked, tears turning to rage. “What do you know? This is about my daughter, not yours!”
Before she could say more, a guy charged in, grabbed her by the collar, and yanked her up.
His eyes were wild, his baggy white tee splattered with paint.
“Where’s Ariel?!” he roared. “She dared touch my muse’s head? Hand her over, or you’re toast!”
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