21 - "I'll know the truth soon"

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"Already?"

Despite Teagan's best efforts to stay the night, ultimately, the nurse who was monitoring me kicked her out. I'd promised her that I would call as soon as Rhys's mum dropped me home the next day.

It was barely 7 am and the morning-shift nurse has just informed me that Rebecca Laderman's driver was here to collect me. Her driver.

"Yes, he is waiting out front," the nurse begins to fold the few belongings that I have, handing them to me. "Rebecca has already signed your discharge form."

I didn't even know if it was legal for Rebecca to sign me out. Honesty though, it probably didn't even matter. I couldn't think of a more influential woman. She could practically do whatever the hell she wanted. People worshipped her and not just in New River, clearly.

"Okay, thank you," I smile, collecting my phone and putting on my shoes.

I'd had a relatively undisturbed sleep last night. Usually, especially in summer, I found it hard to sleep at all. It was worse when I was trying to keep dad off my mind, wondering if he'd died from alcohol poisoning.

I stop short from exiting my room when I spot Rhys. He's leaning against the opposite wall, one foot balanced against it. He's typing one-handed on his phone, the other stuffed into the pocket of his shorts.

"Morning," I yawn, walking towards him.

He looks up at me through his lashes. He pockets his phone, gesturing with his head to follow him. "Look, it's not a big deal but—"

"Your mum brought her driver?"

Rhys's steps falter as he throws me a perplexed expression. "How the fuck did you know that?"

"Nurse told me," I shrug. "And it's fine. I don't care."

"So, no rich-kid jabs? No hating on me?"

"I mean, there is plenty I could say but it's too damn early in the morning for that."

"Hmm," Rhys frowns. "I never thought you'd learn how to shut up."

I push him playfully, trying not to smile. "Whatever, asshat."

"That's new," he acknowledges. "An upgrade from your usual asshole comment."

"I like to mix it up sometimes. You know, expand my vocabulary."

"Oh yeah," he nods sarcastically. "You're really upping the ante."

"I try," I shrug, grinning. "Anyway, um...well, you know."

"Do I?"

"Yes," I roll my eyes. "Do you purposely like to antagonise me?"

"I don't know what you mean. What was it that I supposedly know?"

"I hate you," I grumble, playing with the hem of my tank. "You really are annoying."

"Keep telling yourself that, Cadigan."

"I was trying to thank you for picking me up today," I say bleakly, sighing. "Happy now?"

He sends me a wry smile, before opening the main doors to the car park. The summer heat hits me with callous disregard. It was scorching today, the type of weather where you could toast a piece of bread on the concrete. Not that I'd ever tried that, of course.

I spot the limousine before Rhys has to point it out to me. I mean, come on, it was a freaking limo. I felt quite extra hopping into the back, shortly followed by Rhys.

"Cora Cadigan?"

The sound of Rebecca's voice makes me jump. I smile sheepishly at her. She extends her hand and I shake it tentatively.

"It's lovely to see you," she smiles.

"Oh, and you too. Um, thank you so much for picking me up. I'm sorry to bother you."

"Nonsense," she scoffs, "I was in the area today anyway."

Although I had never had a proper conversation with Rebecca Laderman, of course, I knew her. It was New River, after all. She'd made plenty of speeches to my class about setting goals and never giving up on your dream career.

She was dressed in a classy black business suit. Her brown hair was slicked back behind her ears, her Tiffany earrings constantly catching the light. Not a strand of hair was out of place on her head. I instantly felt self-conscious in my old denim shorts which I had cut from jeans and my dirty hair.

How much did Rhys tell her about what happened? Did she know I'd thrown up in his car?

I try not to let the mortification show on my face at the thought. For some odd reason, I felt a need to impress her, despite looking as close to a hobo as one could.

Rebecca leans forward to speak to her driver animatedly, her sweet, melodic voice rising and falling in pitch.

"Such a suck-up," Rhys whispers next to me, smirking.

"I am not!" I whisper-shout. "I was just...being nice."

"Nice? You actually know how to do that?"

I step on his toe lightly. "When I need to be, yes."

"Oh. So, really, you just know how to be fake."

"Shut up," I glare.

"So, Cora, Rhys was telling me about the terrible fall you had on Lucas's boat. How are you?"

"Oh," I blush, feeling weird that she was showing any interest. "I'm fine, really. Nothing too serious."

"That's good to hear," she beams.

I'd always been a little scared of Rebecca. But maybe I didn't need to be. She seemed like a lovely person. My perception of her had been purely based on where she stood on the societal hierarchy. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

"I hope you don't mind but I've just got to stop by work for about an hour. I'll drop you home soon after."

"No hurry," I speak. "I don't need to be anywhere today."

Rhys snorts next to me and Rebecca throws him a quizzical glance. I try my best not to jab him in the ribs, knowing he was laughing at my expense.

Rebecca turns back to the driver but I block their conversation out entirely when Rhys begins to speak.

"I didn't know you had it in you," he says comically. "But I have officially seen two very different sides to you. Ever thought about becoming an actor?"

"Fuck off," I spit. I glance over at Rebecca to make sure she isn't listening to us.

Rhys's hand brushes lightly against my bare thigh as he goes to retie his shoelaces. I shift my leg away, frowning.

"Ryan told me what he said to you on the phone," I whisper. "Don't listen to him, alright?"

"You think I would? He's a jackass. I've always hated the guy."

"He's not that bad," I defend. "He just gets...protective, I guess. When it comes to his friends."

"To his friends? Are you sure it isn't just when he realises that he might not have you as tightly on a leash like he thought he did?"

I grit my teeth, holding in my anger. "No one owns me, Rhys. I'm sick of people saying otherwise."

"I don't think you realise just quite how obsessed that boy is with you," he rolls his eyes.

"He's just upset," I whisper. "About you."

"Why'd you break up in the first place, Cora?"

"None of your business," I speak crisply, turning my head past Rhys to watch the streets pass us by.

"Here's what I think," he says. "He didn't treat you right. You break up with him and as soon as he realises that you're super hot and other guys can show an interest in you, he's back wanting more."

"I—"

Did Rhys Laderman just call me hot? Despite hating being referred to as a temperature, I couldn't help the dip in my stomach.

"Prove me wrong," he cocks an eyebrow.

I couldn't. He was so close to the truth that it wasn't even worth defending.

Rhys smiles smugly at me when I don't reply. "Just as I thought. He wants you now that he can't have you."

"He's still my best friend," I jab. "He just worries."

Why was I even defending him again? Last night he had blatantly objectified me. I guess I just didn't want Rhys to be right in this scenario. Or in any scenario.

"He might be your best friend, but that doesn't give him the right to control who you hang out with."

"I know that," I snap. "You think if I didn't know that I would be here with you?"

"Here we are," Rebecca chimes, opening her door. She leans back in when I don't move to get out.

"Why don't you come in? You two can wait in my office whilst I get things sorted."

I offer her a small smile, unbuckling my seatbelt and exiting the airconditioned limo.

I trail behind Rhys and Rebecca as they walk towards the looming council building. I'd never been inside but the outside was intimidating enough. I suddenly feel even more underdressed. Rhys may have been wearing shorts too, but he was wearing designer shorts.

Since when have you ever cared? I think, clenching my fists.

I jog to catch up to Rhys, walking by his side. "When's the election?"

"Pretty soon," he nods. "About a month, I think. She's really under the pump at the moment, working back late. She's stressed."

"She hides it well," I acknowledge.

"Most politicians do," Rhys smile.

We enter through the sliding doors, Rebecca receiving a warm welcome instantly. Signs and banners are hanging everywhere. Mostly with slogans or Rebecca's face for her campaign.

"Hello George, how's Kelly? Wonderful, to hear!"

"Eva, I heard you got engaged! Let's see the ring! Oh my!"

"Toby, how're the visuals going? Great, keep it up!"

She walks around, offering her staff hugs and shaking hands. She compliments people and asks people questions.

All I could think the entire time was how exhausting. None of this looked like fun.

I follow Rhys through a hallway. Rebecca's heels click against the marble floor as she walks towards another room, pulling on the handle. When we all step inside, I notice a few familiar faces sitting around a large oval table, talking quietly. Their conversation comes to a halt when we enter.

"Kev, Abby, Xav and Marcus. How's it going?" Rebecca smiles. She drops her handbag at her feet, pulling out a chair.

I stand besides Rhys awkwardly, feeling as though I was intruding.

"Quite well, Bec," Abby Kingsley smiles.

Abby wasn't much older than Rhys and I. From what I knew, she was dating Max Laderman. They'd been high school sweethearts.

"Kev? How are the polls looking?"

Kevin Winter was known to me for all the wrong reasons. I didn't like him by association. Lucas was his son and nothing else mattered. He could have been a nice person, but I highly doubted it.

"Great," he grins, his straight, white teeth gleaming. "You're still holding onto the lead by 16%."

I look around the table and notice Xavier Franklin and Dylan Doncaster. They'd been Rebecca's associates for years. Both of them had been friends with my father in high school but I hadn't seen them around much. They'd entered the elite side of town and hadn't looked back, clearly.

"Mr Quebec can't possibly think he still stands a chance," Dyan chuckles.

"Don't get too cocky," Rebecca raises her eyebrow, hand outstretched.

They continue to chat amongst themselves. Rebecca beacons Rhys forward, talking to him quietly. When he pulls away, he tilts his head for me to follow him out of the room.

"She said to wait in her office. There's food if you want some."

The mention of food sends my stomach off, gurgling loudly.

"Sounds like a yes then," Rhys laughs. "Right this way, Cadigan."

When Rhys had said there would be food, I was expecting blueberry muffins and apples. Not burgers and steak sandwiches.

Rebecca has a freaking kitchen attached to her office, with a chef. Rhys had walked up to Karla, the chef, and had asked for two burgers. I had stood there awestruck, trying to take in the sight of her office.

Rebecca has a double-storey office, with a view of the heart of New River. Everything was marble, like something I'd imagine in a New York City apartment. She could literally live here. She had her own bathroom and everything.

"I didn't know offices looked like this," I whistle, staring out at the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I'd never been overly appreciative of New River. I'd never said damn, I love living here. But now, seeing the town like this, I felt on top of the world, like living here mattered.

"I've never seen it like this," I whisper as Rhys approaches me, standing by my side. "It's...beauty. The simplicity of it."

I can feel him watching me in my periphery. "I can only imagine how it must be at night. The lights. The moon. I've never admired where I live, Rhys, but this makes me feel pretty grateful."

"Do you wanna leave?"

"This office? Never."

"That's not what I meant," his monotonous tone breaks barely above a whisper.

"Doesn't everyone? I always felt like New River was suffocating. Too small. I always felt that being born here was a life sentence, one that only a few were able to break.

"I think that's why people believed so easily that mum ran away," I continue, "because New River had nothing to offer her and she felt like she couldn't escape."

"She didn't run away, though," he whispers, leaning a fist against the glass.

"I know," I quiver, "which almost scares me more. Because if she didn't run away— if she didn't run away, then...well then..."

The answer hangs loud in the silence. I didn't need to say it for Rhys to understand. When I turn to stare at him, he's watching me so intensely that it takes my breath away.

He grips my hand suddenly, entwining our fingers. His thumb rubs against the sensitive area of my skin, calming me.

"We'll find out what happened," he whispers. "I can promise you that."

I bite my lip to stop the tears. I'd never cried in front of Rhys and I wasn't about to start. I pull away from him, clearing my throat. "That food was really good."

"I'll be sure to inform Karla that," he replies, clenching and unclenching his fists. He strides over to his mother's desk, taking a seat on her big leather chair.

He picks up random pieces of paper, sifting through them in a bored-like trance. "I couldn't imagine living the rest of my life here. Not the way my parents have."

"Then don't," I state simply. "It's your life. You should get to live it. Besides, you have the influence, you have the money. Nothing can stop you."

He scoffs, "nothing. Yeah, right."

"Meaning?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Meaning that there are expectations for me, Cora. I can't just up and leave town. My dad—"

"Ah," I point a finger at him, "of course. Good old Sergeant Williams. He wants you to become an officer just like Max."

"Max," he grunts, placing his hands behind his head. "Fucking Max. The golden-child."

I watch Rhys, the way his sharp jaw tenses, his eyes flickering around the room. The way a single strand of brown hair dangles in front of his eyes. His muscle ripple under the white v-neck tee he wears, his arms gripping the edge of the desk.

I'd never observed him like this. Tense. Strained. Like the world was resting on his shoulders.

"I didn't know any of that," I whisper. "About your life."

"Why would you?" he remarks, his eyes sharp. "You just think I'm some white, rich jock who thinks the world revolves around him."

I close my eyes momentarily, sighing. "Rhys..."

"It's fine," he snaps, "it's what I want people to think anyway."

He shoves at the desk, pushing a few sheets of paper to the floor. "You think I'm so fucking perfect. That just because I have money, everything else will be fine. Well, news flash, Cora, money doesn't fix everything."

I reach down, picking up the stray pieces of paper lying haphazardly on the floor. I sift the papers into some type of order, unsure as to how they were before Rhys decided to push them off. I pick up a few more, then grab at the sticky note that flutters off one of the pages.

Unintentionally, the bold, messy handwriting of the note stands out to me. The style and its rushed manner made me feel as though I had seen something just like it before...

"Holy fuck," I whisper, dropping the pages down onto the desk.

I could feel the bile rising to the surface. My hand is trembling as I try to steady the note I was holding, trying to read it.

"What?" Rhys springs from the seat, his tone alert. He looms over my shoulder, his breath tickling my neck as he reads it from behind me.

"What is it?" he prompts.

"It's not the note, itself," I croak. "It's the handwriting. I— this is the exact same handwriting from the note found in mum's purse."

Meeting @ 4:10pm.

Call Phil. Urgent.

Email Lucinda about the campaign.

"Are you sure?" Rhys breaths, grabbing the note from my hand. He inspects it closely, reading over the lines.

"It's not my mum's writing," he frowns. "Which means it's someone who works for her. Which could be any of the 50 people in this darn building."

50 people. That may have not narrowed it down much, but it was better than nothing.

Someone in this building had a connection to my mother. Someone knew something they'd kept a secret.

I snatch the note from Rhys's hands. "We have to ask your mum who wrote this."

The door to Rebecca's office opens just as I speak. She walks in with a smile, warmth radiating from her. "Sorry, it took a bit longer than I had thought," she sighs. "Cora, are you ready to go? Sorry for the holdup."

Rhys snatches the note back out of my hand, passing it to Rebecca. She frowns at his, puzzled.

"Oh! Thanks, Rhys. I didn't see this. I better call Phil first, he always gets so—"

"Do you know who wrote it?" he interrupts, his eyes glancing to me quickly.

She shakes her head. "I have no idea. Probably Henry. He works at the front desk. He usually answers all the calls we get. But it could have been Marge. She usually passes on the notes. Or, maybe even John? Or Xavier? I'm not sure."

She walks around the desk, clicking on her desktop.

"Would it be possible for you to find out who wrote it?" Rhys prompts, shoulders tense.

Rebecca frowns at him before looking back at the screen. "Why?"

"I, uh, the handwriting

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