Echo (Black Lotus #2)(4)

I am too.

“I’ll be okay.”

“Bennett wouldn’t want you to be suffering like this.”

What she doesn’t know, what nobody knows, is that I’m not suffering for Bennett. I’m not the harrowed widow mourning over her husband. No. I’m mourning over the man I was cheating on my husband with and my brother that no one knew anything about. My hidden life. My clandestine existence.

“How could I possibly not suffer, Clara? He was my husband,” I choke out. “How am I supposed to live without him when he was my reason for waking up every day?”

“Because the world doesn’t wait on us. It keeps moving and expects us to move right along with it.”

“I’m not sure how to move right now.”

“Well,” Clara begins, resting her hand on my knee. “You can start by taking a shower and trying to eat something.” Her eyes are sad and filled with concern. When I nod my head, a small smile breaks upon her lips, and she gives my knee a gentle squeeze before getting up to leave the room. Turning back to me, she adds, “Oh, while you were sleeping, your attorney called. He’d like to schedule a time to meet with you to go over Bennett’s will.”

This was the moment I had been working years for. The moment Pike and I dreamed about. This was supposed to be the moment that brought me victory and happiness. The money. The power. Payback and retribution. And now it means nothing without Pike by my side. I married Bennett to destroy him, but it didn’t make anything better—it’s just worse.

“I’ll give him a call after lunch,” I respond before Clara walks out and closes the door behind her.

Getting ready is a blur. I make the movements but then can’t remember how I got from point A to point B. Clara is in the kitchen, cleaning up after lunch while I sift through the sheaf of messages from all the calls I’ve missed since Bennett’s death. I’m sure it’s all over the news, but I can’t bring myself to turn on the TV for fear I’ll hear something about Declan. I’d crumble for sure.

I have messages from everyone. I know I need to contact Bennett’s parents, and also Jacqueline, since I can see she has been calling excessively. God, the last thing I want to do is deal with these people, and as I’m about to walk away, the phone rings. I let Clara answer it as I head back to bed.

“Nina, it’s the funeral home,” she calls. “They are needing approval on a few final details.”

Drained of energy, I respond, “I’m sorry. I just can’t,” before dropping my head and walking out of the room.

What the hell do I care about Bennett’s funeral? Toss him in the lake for all I care. The bastard continues to ruin everything, even in his death. The anguish wells up into my throat as I fall onto the bed and cry into my pillow.

I f*cking hate that man. I hate him for everything he was. Misplaced aggression or not, that * took everything away from me.

I cry like mad, trying to expel some of this misery, but I can’t sit still. I lurch off the bed, and in a haze, find myself in Bennett’s closet, ransacking everything. Ripping clothes from the hangers, thrashing shoes across the room, grunting with each volatile purge until I’m against the wall, slamming my palm into the drywall over and over and over. I beg for the infliction of pain, but the only pain I feel is in my heart. So I clench my fist and pound harder and harder and harder and harder . . .

“Nina! Stop!”

Harder and harder and harder and harder and . . .





“MRS. VANDERWAL, THANK you for coming in. I’m so sorry for your loss. Your husband was a good friend.”

“Thank you, Rick,” I respond as I stand in front of our attorney’s desk and shake his hand.

“Please,” he says, gesturing to the chair, “Have a seat.”

I look at the man I’ve known since my engagement to Bennett four years ago as he sits down and pulls out a file of paperwork.

“I wanted to visit with you personally so that we can go over the terms of your husband’s will and estate. I know this is a difficult time for you right now, but the day of Bennett’s death, he stopped by to visit me.”

I nod my head, recalling the phone call that was made in my hospital room. It was the last time Bennett was with me, when he found out that I wasn’t really Nina, but Elizabeth, and that I’d been sneaking around with Declan.

Declan.

My throat tightens at the thought of him, but I push it down to focus on Rick as he continues to speak.

“A few amendments were made to the will,” he tells me, pulling out a sealed, white envelope from the file. “He instructed me to open and read this to you privately upon his death.”

Forcing out a tear, I sit and stare—nervous—but I play it as calm as I can.

“He must have known,” he states blankly.

“I don’t understand how any of this is happening.” My voice quivers around the words, and Rick hands me a tissue.

“Have the police said anything to you?”

“No. But they took almost everything from our home office. The last I heard is they think it’s business related.”

“Money will make people do sick things,” he says, and the chill that streams under my skin causes a sinister reaction inside of me.

He has no clue how close to home his words are hitting right now as I sit and wait to hear my reward for this game of revenge I’ve played over the past few years.