Chapter 149
[ 495 words ]
Chapter 149:
The single word felt like a slap to the face. Caroline’s chest tightened with a sudden, sharp sting of rejection. The warmth from the morning evaporated, replaced by a hot flash of anger.
She turned her head away and stared out the tinted window. Fine. If he wanted to act like a cold, arrogant bastard, she wouldn’t bother talking to him.
Thirty minutes passed in dead silence.
Caroline looked out the window and frowned. The street signs were wrong. They weren’t heading toward the downtown penthouse. They were crossing the bridge into Virginia.
She recognized the quiet, tree-lined streets of Alexandria.
She spun around to face him. “Why are we here? This is the way to my parents’ house.”
Jarrod finally lifted his eyes from the tablet. His gaze was dark, unreadable, and completely devoid of emotion.
“I am dropping you off at your parents’ house,” Jarrod stated coldly.
Caroline’s heart dropped into her stomach. He was sending her back? After dragging her to his penthouse and declaring she belonged there, he was just tossing her back to the family that had disowned her?
The SUV rolled to a stop in front of the familiar two-story colonial house.
𝖱о𝗆а𝗻𝖼e ո𝘰𝘃𝘦ls 𝗈𝗻 gа𝗅𝗻𝗈𝘃𝗲𝗅ѕ.c𝗼𝘮
Bell jumped out and opened Caroline’s door.
Caroline didn’t move. She stared at Jarrod, her chest heaving with indignation. She wanted an explanation.
Jarrod looked back down at his tablet.
“Go inside,” Jarrod ordered, his tone completely dismissive. “I have a classified call coming through on the secure line. I will leave once it’s done.”
He was treating her like a nuisance he needed to get rid of.
Caroline’s blood boiled. She grabbed her purse, swung her legs out of the car, and slammed the heavy armored door shut with all her strength.
She marched up the concrete walkway toward the front door, her heels clicking furiously. She had absolutely no idea she was walking straight into a perfectly laid trap.
Caroline gripped her keys tightly. She jammed the brass key into the lock of the Thompson family’s front door and twisted it hard.
She pushed the door open, expecting the usual drone of the evening news and the heavy, judgmental silence of her parents.
Instead, a loud, booming laugh echoed from the living room. It was her father’s laugh, but it sounded strangely eager, almost sycophantic.
Caroline kicked off her shoes in the entryway. She walked slowly into the living room.
Her feet stopped dead on the hardwood floor. Her brain completely short-circuited.
The center of the living room was completely unrecognizable. The coffee table had been pushed to the wall. In its place sat eight massive, heavy-duty cardboard moving boxes.
Thick black marker scrawled across the top of the boxes: Caroline’s Clothes. Caroline’s Books. Caroline’s Room.
Mrs. Thompson was standing next to the boxes, holding a heavy tape dispenser. Her face was flushed red with excitement.
Mr. Thompson was standing near the fireplace. He was holding two crystal glasses filled with his most expensive, top-shelf bourbon. He was smiling so hard his eyes were crinkling.
“What is going on here?” Caroline demanded, her voice shaking with shock.
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