Mr. Northrop shook his head. “Your type are a dime a dozen. Unlike the useless nobility in Europe, I earned my fortune.” His voice deepened into a threat. “And I’ll tell you this, you have a better chance of being named Miss America than you do of getting your hands on that cash.”
Her father’s belief that a man couldn’t love Alex for anything but her wealth churned in Henry’s gut. He fought hard to stay in control. This man was toxic, and Alex was better off without him.
Henry took a breath and spoke with a restrained calm. “Your opinion of me matters only to yourself. The purpose of my visit was not to kiss your arse, but to locate Alex. She’s in trouble, and I’ll do whatever I can to protect her. Obviously, she didn’t feel the need to return to what had been her home many, many years ago. I now understand why. Instead of offering assistance, you show contempt toward the only person actively looking for her.”
“She didn’t want to be found. We never closed the door on her coming back.”
“Admirable.”
“I will not be insulted by some worthless gold digger.”
“I can assure you I had ample opportunity to pursue a career in something significantly more profitable than anthropology. My life is not defined by my title, my bank account, or my profession. Protecting your assets instead of assisting me in finding your daughter makes you far more pathetic. And it makes me thankful Alex has not remained under your influence.” Henry wiped his mouth with the napkin from his lap and stood up. “This meeting is over. I understand her family history a whole lot better now having met you in person. Good day, Mr. Northrop.”
Henry turned to Mrs. Northrop, her lips pinched in her emotions. “I’m sorry to leave so abruptly, but I promise to have Alex contact you when I find her.”
She rose from her chair and clasped Henry’s hands, ignoring her husband. “Thank you, Lord Ripon. Thank you for looking for her. I’d do anything to know she’s all right.”
He said good-bye to Julia and left to locate his bags.
When he arrived in the front of the house to wait for his taxi, a red Tesla stopped in front of him. Julia hopped out of the driver’s seat and popped the front trunk.
“Get in. I’m taking you to the airport. I need an update on my sister. Sorry about father’s outburst. He’s a tyrant, but he means well. That’s his traditional welcome to the family speech. He’ll be over his insecurities by the wedding.”
Henry hesitated. “I don’t want to cause any rifts between you and him.”
“That would never happen. We’ve learned to differ on just about everything in life, but still respect each other. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven himself for driving Alex away from home, so now he’s defensive about it.”
“I apologize for my rude exit, but I have little sympathy for your father.”
“He doesn’t want sympathy, he wants world domination. I think he’ll respect you more for telling him off. Jason, Anna’s husband, is such a major league suck-up the entire family has written him off as a loser. It’s fitting that Alex has a warrior on her side.” She handed him a piece of paper. “Anna and I were on the beach the day Adam was shot. We watched a woman fighting with a man in the same location. It sounded like two lovers having an argument. We were too far away to identify them, but the police found a duffel bag near Adam’s body. It contained Alex’s expired passport, a wallet, and some other stuff. Local, state, and federal law enforcement are working on the case. My father even hired a private investigator to try to locate Alex. So far, there’s no evidence of her existence, except for the bag. I made a list of the contents for you. Maybe it will help you find her.”
During the journey from Concord to Boston, Julia told Henry about her childhood and living under Peter Northrop’s roof. Henry shared a little of what he knew about Alex eight years later, hiding the fact that he didn’t know near enough. His thoughts, however, remained focused on the list in his hand.
…
Alex always hated Luc’s imposing mass of stone on the right bank of Paris. Built in the year 1900, the style was reminiscent of a fairy-tale chateau, but the feelings and memories it evoked reminded her of a horror movie. She’d lost her virginity in a brutal and emotionless manner in the elegant master bedroom suite. Luc had cracked her rib in the spacious, modernized kitchen and pushed her down the gorgeous, curved marble staircase. Stolen art decorated the walls, and artifacts sat in display cases after being pillaged from countries that were losing their heritage under their noses. From a hidden spot on the stairway, Alex had watched Danielle and her boyfriend murdered in the art gallery under those priceless paintings and artifacts, after Danielle had argued with Luc over moving to San Francisco.
Pascal shoved Alex through the back entryway. Her crutches slid, and she lost her balance. Falling to the floor, she paused in place to catch her breath. The pain in her leg throbbed, but she didn’t want medicine clouding her judgment, so she tried to ignore it. She took a quick intake of air and bit down with her back molars to suck in the scream that wanted to come out, but couldn’t, in order to keep Pascal from exploiting her weakness.
“Get up.” He stood over her, yet offered no assistance.
She remained on the floor for a second too long. Pascal kicked her cast. Pain shot through her leg, causing Alex’s back and neck muscles to wrench. Her gasp and the water pooling in her eyes must have provided him with enough of a response, because he backed off. She shifted her position to brace herself with the crutches and lift herself up.