Empire of Lies

Michael Now

The sound of the automatic coffee maker whirring forces my eyes to flutter open far earlier than I intended. Meredith is sound asleep on my chest—her hair frizzy and wild, her hand still cupping my cock after a long night of insatiable sex.

I’ll never be able to get enough…

Looking at the clock on the wall, I blink repeatedly when I read the time. It says that it’s six fifteen in the morning, but I know that can’t be fucking right.

Meredith collapsed on top of me around midnight, and I’d followed suit an hour later.

If the clock is right, it means that I’ve somehow managed to get five hours and fifteen minutes of sleep. A full fifteen minutes that I haven’t been able to secure in years.

Reaching over to the nightstand, I pick up one of my burner phones—convinced that I’m not seeing this shit properly. Refreshing the screen, again and again, I slowly accept that it’s real.

I’m not sure what to think of this…

Slowly slipping out of bed, I tuck Meredith under the silk sheets and step onto the balcony. Opening a box of Cuban cigars, I lean against the railing and light one, puffing an “O” against the darkness.

There’s only one asshole left on my list, and as meticulously as I’ve pla

Meredith has changed all of that.

I’m officially in uncharted territory with her, and the ship can only be steered in one of two ways: On ship one, she can return to her life of being “Meredith Thatchwood” with me, and I can come up with an intricate plan to get her life back in New York City. I’ll have to get her out of out any media hailstorms, away from any and all suspicions. That plan will take eleven weeks, though. At least.

On ship two, she can continue living her life in the shadows, never speaking to Gillian, her former coworkers, or anyone from her previous life again. She can play the role of a new character in whatever city she chooses, pick whatever backstory she pleases.

I’ll be there for whichever one she chooses, but I can’t help thinking that she won’t be completely happy with either.

I puff another “O” and hear the soft sound of footsteps behind me.

“Did you get any good sleep last night?” Meredith walks over to me. “Even if it was just an hour or two?”

“I got a little more than what I expected,” I say, noticing that her eyes are red and puffy, that there are tears streaming down her face.

What the hell? “What’s wrong, Meredith?”

“Nothing.” She smiles through her tears, her voice soft. “It’s the same thing that always hits me. Today is my mom’s birthday, so…I apologize in advance if I burst into tears here or there.”

“I’ve told you that you never need to apologize for that.” I put out the cigar, pull her into my arms as she burst into tears again.

I debate whether I should let her know now, if dropping another emotional bombshell is the right thing to do.

When her chest starts heaving up and down, and the tears begin to fall harder, I decide to go for it.

“Meredith,” I say, wiping away a few tears before grabbing her hands. “Meredith, look at me.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it…” She shakes her head. “I still think about her every day.”

“You don’t have to get over it…” I wait until she’s looking up at me. “Meredith, your mother never really passed away…”

“Excuse me?” Her expression immediately shifts to anger and she glares at me. “What did you just say?”

“She’s not—”

“I’ve told you time and time again that she drowned,” she says, “And I’ve told you that I hate hearing people say that she’s ‘in a better place,’ or that ‘she’s still here with me.’ She’s dead, Michael.”

“No.” I shake my head, looking right into her eyes. “She’s dead in the same way that you’re dead. Turns out, someone else had a change of heart when he was contracted to kill her…She’s very much alive, Meredith.”

Her jaw drops to the floor. She sucks in a long breath, looking like she’s about to hit me with a barrage of questions.

‘Wait.” I press a finger against her lips before she can say a single word. “I found this information out days ago, but I need you to trust me on it, one hundred percent. I can’t take you to see her now, and we can’t even begin to get to her for another few months, until we figure out if you’re going to remain missing or stay alive as your old self. You’ll have to decide what you want, but I promise I’ll take you to see her either way.”

She stands still, looking absolutely stu

“You wouldn’t ever joke with me about something like this, would you?” she asks, her eyes hopeful.

“We both know I’m not the joking type.”

She swallows and leans against my shoulder, staring straight ahead as I light another cigar.

When the sun starts to rise over the horizon, she clears her throat. “Who ordered the hit on my mom? Was that my father as well?” She pauses, hitting me with another one. “Were you the designated hire for that job, too?”

“No to the last two questions.” I pause, getting ready to drop the final bombshell on her. “It was your aunt.”

Her face reddens, and she slumps down onto the nearest chair. She says nothing for several moments, she just continues glaring and shaking her head.

When I realize that it’s been over an hour, I grab her hands and pull her up. I wrap an arm around her hips and kiss her forehead, unable to imagine the tangled web of thoughts that are ru

“I know which ship I want to take now,” she says.

“Ship one or Ship two?”

“Neither of those,” she says, looking up at me. “I want to take Ship three…I want you to help me get even.”

“Come again?”

“I want to pay my father and my aunt back for all the pain they’ve put me through,” she says. “I want to bring down my father’s legacy, by taking everything he has and burning it to the ground.”

“What?” I can feel my eyes widening.

“I haven’t been able to have a full day of peace since my mom passed—Well, since I thought she passed. And even before that, I…” She shakes her head. “I never completely trusted my father after he abandoned us in the way he did.” Her face turns even redder. “I want to destroy him in every way possible. I want to give him exactly what he was willing to give to me.”

Those are easily some of the sexiest words that have ever fallen from her lips, but they’re wrong. She shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, and she definitely shouldn’t be discussing them with me.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about right now, Meredith,” I say, half concerned, half aroused. “You’re just emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed. Murder is not a suitable payback for what they almost did, and contrary to what you think, that’s no longer my style as of this coming Monday.”

“Then what is?”

Silence.

I wait for her to laugh and tell me that she’s joking about this idea, but she doesn’t. She looks dead-ass serious, and I’m beyond intrigued by her desire for this third option.

“What would you do if it was you?” she asks.