Chapter Thirty-five

Cecilia

The waiting plane came into view as Gaston drove us through the gates of the small private airport on the outskirts of Concord. The monstrosity was impossible to miss. The Dellinger Corporation owned two planes that were used primarily by our executives. If we needed to fly more people or go to multiple destinations beyond two, we worked with a leasing company who appreciated our business.

The plane on the tarmac ahead of us wasn’t one of the corporate planes. It also wasn’t a leased plane. I recognized the mini-mansion as soon as I saw it.

“That’s Grandfather’s plane,” I said, the first thing I’d spoken since being told that Matthew wasn’t dead—something I didn’t believe.

“Yes, dear,” Mom replied. “He insisted, saying nothing but the best for you.”

My eyes opened in disbelief. “You told Grandfather where I was.”

“Of course.”

“But Gre...” —I almost said Greyson’s name— “the man who called you told you not to tell.”