ELARA~
I was seated in the parking lot of the hospital staring at the bumper of the car parked in front of me.
Isla Matthews had no accounts, no photo with family. No prominent family name, no parents she ever named—just a sister and a dead brother she had once told me about that couldn't be traced to anyone.
Now, somehow, Arthur Voss knows her. So personally that he—a billionaire—found time to visit her in the hospital.
I needed to talk to her. I—
I looked at the rear-view mirror, my eyes locking on the duffel bag in the back seat.
How could I ever forget that stick? That stance, that figure?
The old man frequented our house back when we were kids. And most times we'd go to his. He didn't live in the main Voss mansion; he lived with his wife and a butler.
There were a number of times I saw my father beg on his knees. And the man would just hover over him like a damn statue, with no expression whatsoever.
