Page 49 of Half Truths (Secret Society 1)
I sat back after reading that entry and stared at the screen. Discovering this little club. What club? Did she mean the octopus people? Was this secret society some sort of sex club? That would be my next question to them, no doubt. If it was, I was out. I did not want to be tossed around from person to person for their enjoyment. What would Logan think of this whole thing? I shook the thought away quickly. He’d told me to stay away from the cloaks. Also, he was not my boyfriend. It didn’t matter what he thought. I clicked on another one, skipping the rest of April and going straight to the last one she’d written in May. With the computer about to die, I needed to focus on things that may have answers.
May 25th—
The people around us were making it virtually impossible for us to see each other. I don’t blame them. Each of them have their reasons for not wanting to see us together. The one that bothers me most is Ella. She acted like my friend for so long, a mentor, an amazing boss, and the minute she saw me walk into that party with him it was like a light switch went off. All of a sudden, she’s in every restaurant, every event, and every bar we visit. We try to be inconspicuous when we’re together. We keep a safe distance when we’re out in public, but somehow she knows. She knows that behind closed doors we’re more and she seems to be going to great lengths to keep us from being together. I hate that it bothers me. I didn’t set out to be part of this. I wanted to expose the hidden secret societies around campus and now I’m stuck under their thumb because I fell for the one person I shouldn’t have.
I met a friend though. I won’t say her name here in case this gets into the wrong hands. She’s helped me see that my feelings for him are valid, that I belong with him, so that makes me feel less crazy. That doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. I know he’s going to leave me soon. I’ve seen the pictures of him with past girls in my situation. I’ve looked them up, too. He wasn’t lying when he said he could help build my career. Two of those girls have been in Forbes Magazine already. I’m trying not to think about it, but I know I’ll just have to lick my wounds and move on. Who knows, maybe I was right all along. Maybe the societies wield too much power and need to be exposed. I just don’t think I can do that to him. Maybe his son is right. Maybe I need to be the one to walk away from this.
I re-read the letter three times. Whoever she was having an affair with was obviously linked to Ella. My father was the first person who came to mind and I hated that. A chill rushed through me. Could he be the one? Her mentor? Could Lana have gone that far and slept with my father? No. Not Lana. Maybe this was someone else’s notes. Maybe someone else was doing this research and sent it to her. I thought of the pictures of my brother with her. I needed to see them again. I needed to see them after reading this and really pay attention to how they looked. With that thought in mind, I gathered my things and left the library.
Chapter Twenty-One
I was looking over my shoulder, thinking about the letters I’d just read. God, was Lana having an affair with my father? Could he do that? I knew he wasn’t a saint. My parents seemed to be on the brink of divorce every five years, and a lot of their arguments stemmed from him being unfaithful. It was something they would never discuss in front of us, but we weren’t stupid. Lincoln had almost come to blows with dad last Christmas. That made me pause and stop dead in my tracks. Could it have been about Lana? She’d started writing those entries in April. It was possible that she was with whoever she was writing about in December. She disappeared in May though. This was all too much. I started walking again. Obviously, Lincoln was involved with this secret society, but was dad?
Even if I didn’t manage to get the two points I needed, I’d find out. Evidentially, as secretive as they thought they were, a lot of people knew about the money. They must have dangled it in front of countless people. I wondered how many chomped. Most of us were wealthy kids from wealthy families, trust fund babies who knew under very rare circumstances they’d end up poor and wanting, yet that money called to us for some reason. Maybe because despite what was promised to us by our last names, what we really wanted was something that was wholly ours. What I wanted above anything else was a way to help Lincoln. A way to understand what he’d been through and why he’d ended up the way he did. I needed answers because I absolutely knew he didn’t try to kill himself. He’d said it himself, but even if he hadn’t, I knew my brother.
