Free Marked. Part II: Becoming Noah Baxter by J. M. Sevilla Page A

that satisfy me. 
    His lips tilt up, tugging on the outskirts, trying to remain level, “ Benedict Vault Cole ?” Now he's trying not to laugh.
    I puff the hair out of my face, “I didn't know your middle name and I needed you to know I meant business.”
    Ben smirks, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands on the arm rests, “Nobody's ever tried to scold me in my office before, not even my own parents. Another first for you, Ms. Evans.”
    “ Lily,” I clarify sternly before shoving the paper as close to his face as I can get, “Do you mind explaining this to me?” I slap it down on his desk, ruffling the papers under and around it. I step back and cross my arms, giving him my most ferocious glare.
    He takes a sip from his crystal tumbler, trying to conceal his laughter. I'm not finding this situation humorous. I tap my foot to let him know I'm waiting for a reply.
    He gives me another dimpled smirk, lifting the paper to examine it, “It's your monthly statement.” He places it back down, not understanding my outrage.
    I lift my brows, imploring him to be more forthcoming, “I need more information than that. Why do I have this money?” My voice cracks and threatens to lose it at any moment. Dammit, I refuse to lose it.
    “ Jay never explained it to you?”
    I swallow the lump in my throat and shake my head no.
    “He wanted to make sure you were secure for life. Had me set up a trust in your name, with a specific amount to be transferred to a main account that you could live off of.”
    My Darth Vader breathing returns, fear stabbing it's way in. I lick my lips and bite into the bottom one, pulling it all the way in, hoping to bite hard enough that the pain will stop my mind from going to that dark place it's been avoiding for the past six hours.
    “Is...” I suck in air through my nose, squeezing my lids so tightly that it almost has my brows touching the apples of my cheeks. “Is...is he...” I can't get the words out. Maybe it's better if I don't ask. I can turn around right now, leave, go home, and pretend like I never got that statement. I'll wait for Jay to come for me. I could go through life for a long time in denial, pushing back any negative, foreboding thoughts.
    I could drink. Yeah, I could just drink all day, every day, letting my emotions and mind go numb. Brilliant. Except it's not. It's a horrible idea...but none the less an appealing one.
    For a moment I let myself feel the impact of his absence, of a life without him, but I can't do it. Jay is my future. If my future has been taken I need to know.
    “ Ben,” I quietly ask, finally opening my eyes, hoping they reveal what my deepest fear is. “Please, tell me. Why do I have this money?”
    His eyes soften in pity and his lips curve down in sympathy. It's worse than if he took a blade and cut out my heart.
    “Sweetheart,” he's too loving and compassionate, I can't take it. I need a cold, straightforward answer.
    “ Stop,” I half sob, half choke on the word. “Tell me the truth. Is he gone?” The last word tumbles out of my mouth, forcing my hand to slap over it, eyes wide, wishing I could take it back.
    Silence overtakes the massive room.
    “Ben?” I challenge, needing a response but at the same time not wanting one, “Please tell me what this money means?”
    The axis of my existence stills and then tilts towards the man who can bring me answers.
    That is, until I hear the gruff sound of an overly infuriated man behind Benedict Cole's office doors.
    “ What the fuck do you mean you don't know where she is?! FIND HER!!!” The voice explodes, making my whole body tremble. Not from fear, but from relief; a relief that almost brings me to my knees. “I don't give a fuck how you lost her!”
    I can almost feel his fury from here. I slowly turn to face the front doors, wide eyed, hand to my throat, praying that I'm not delusional enough in my love that I'm imagining all this.
    “Find her, or pray I don't find you!” The