Chapter Forty-nine

Cecilia

It wasn’t Grandfather’s large plane that was waiting at the private airport but one of the corporate planes. Gaston pulled our car through the gates. My father was unusually rattled, and conversely, I was eerily calm. It wasn’t how I truly felt. Inside, my stomach was twisting, and my nerves were stretched. I had a dull ache in my temples, and yet I found myself without options. Maybe this was the way people felt on death row. I was out of appeals and walking to my execution.

Even though my father refused to answer my questions about Greyson, part of me felt his presence.

It was stupid.

Maybe a childish wish.

And yet I did.

It was my thoughts of him that helped me move forward. His praise and encouragement helped me put one foot in front of the other. If only my execution would be quick, a needle in my arm or a bullet in my head. Instead, I was sentenced to life with a man I didn’t know or care about, to present him with heirs, and to do as I was told.