The Divorced Heiress Is Entering a New Marriage

“I’ll be there soon,” Logan said and hung up the phone. Glancing at me, he must have realized I was watching him, because with a sigh, his gaze dropped to the ground. “I have to go to my father’s house. It’s my mother… she…”

As I listened intently, Logan recounted the conversation he had just had with his father, filling in the holes for me, since I had only been able to hear his side of it When he told me that his mother was in a mental hospital, I placed my hand on his arm gently, silently offering my support.

“I have to speak to him,” Logan said. “He won’t tell me anything else unless it’s in person.”

“I’m going with you,” I said, determined.

He looked at me again, sideways. “Are you sure? He won’t be pleased to see you. He might even be angry I’d rather not subject you to that.”

“We’re a team now,” I told him. “I’m not going to let you face something like this on your own. I don’t care what he says to me.”

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Logan turned so he could stare at me with full focus, I stood my ground, even lifting my chin a little show him that I was not going to be intimidated.

“Very well,” he said. “Let’s go. I want to get this over with as soon as possible.”

I gathered my things and we rushed out the door.

Logan’s biological parents‘ house was imposing. The three story tall brick mansion had gargoyles over the windows and along the black metal roof. A rod iron fence entirely encased the perimeter. The tops of the rods in the fence ended in sharp spade–like points.

Logan stopped at the gate and reached out to a callbox affixed beside the fence. He didn’t have to say anything. Whoever was watching must have recognized Logan’s car and knew his purpose.

The gate buzzed and then gradually began to swing inwards. When it was clear from our path, Logan continued forward, driving the car along the driveway that came to a roundabout outside the main entrance. A tall fountain was in the middle of the roundabout, but the water wasn’t running. Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Logan parked and we exited.

The front door was open, but there was no sign of who had opened it. With a house this size, I’d expected a butler or some servants milling about.

Catching me looking around in confusion, Logan said, “My parents prefer their servants to be invisible. They even have secret hallways to avoid being seen.”

That struck me as extremely suspicious. They wanted the help, but also wanted to pretend they didn’t have it? Maybe they should treat their servants like people.

I didn’t say a word though. Logan had enough on his mind today, and I didn’t come here to pick fights with his father.

Not today, anyway. I doubted I’d be able to let this go forever.

Logan closed the door behind us. “He’s probably in his study, drinking himself to death.”

12

I followed Logan down a long hallway and a set of stals. Down a flight, we entered a room to the left that seemed more like a den, with a couch and television. However, since there was also a desk and some bookcases, it could be a study too. I really didn’t know the difference.

There was a dry bar behind the desk and, as Logan predicted, there stood a man with his back to us, pouring an amber colored liquid into a short glass,

“I thought we’d find you here,” Logan said. “Though it would have been easier if you’d let your servants well us where to meet you.”

“They know their place.”

Logan’s father put the topper back on the bottle and returned it to the shelf. Grabbing his drink he turned

to face us.

I’d seen him before, but the likeness between Logan and him always surprised me. In a way, he was how I imagined Logan to look in a few years, with some lines here and there but still handsome. Gray dusted his father’s hair, which he kept shorter than Logan’s.