Silent Daughter 1: Taken Read Free

partner Will approaching me with his wife in tow.
    "Glad you could make it!" he shouts, reaching his hand out to greet me.
    "You've met my wife," he notes as she steps forward to shake my hand.
    "Of course. It's nice to see you again, Shirley," I say and take her hand.
    "Let's see if we can find my son and his fiancée," William quickly adds. Already, his cheeks are blushed, and I am right to assume that this is by far not his first drink of the day.
    I know he is excited about this. Pete is his only son, his only child, and he landed quite a good match. A Barrington daughter is considered just as much of a jackpot as his own son is.
    The match is so suiting, so perfectly thought through, one could almost assume that it was an arranged marriage.
    I follow William’s wide, excited steps as he leads me through the fancy crowd, heads turning to me left and right. I am sure most of them wonder who I could be.
    "Ah, there he is!" Will shouts as he spots his son standing on the terrace at the backside of the house.
    We scurry through another light and expensively decorated parlor and pass through a giant French door that covers most of the wall separating the parlor from the garden.
    The garden is filled with people, and it is here that I realize that almost all the women are dressed in light pastel colors. Not by coincidence, that's for sure. Events like this one always have a dress code and sometimes these dress codes come with special demands such as colors that people are to refrain from or colors that are desirable. Today it appears that the women were asked to dress in angelic light colors, gracing the garden with their alleged purity.
    The man of the day, Will's son Pete, is wearing a white smoking jacket and is, therefore, standing out in a crowd of men dressed in black, dark gray and blue suits.
    "Pete," Will yells as we approach the young man.
    He turns around, a boy who still looks like a baby even though he is only a few years younger than I am. A young woman is hooked into his arm, holding a champagne glass. She is a classic beauty with light brown hair, a slim frame and green eyes that look up at me questioningly. Her dress is white, the only one around in that particular color.
    Next to them is another couple. Judging from the looks, the two women are sisters. The other woman's hair is a little lighter with more of a blond tone and her eyes are a clear and bright blue, but she has the same facial features and slender frame. Her dress is of a light pastel pink and a matching flower is perched in her hair.
    "This is Leonard Clark," Will says as he introduces me to the group. "My partner in crime, quite literally."
    He turns to his son who is shaking my hand at that moment. "He's the one I told you about."
    "Ah, yes," Pete utters. "So good to meet you. My dad mentioned that you would be a good role model for me, seeing as you've had so much success so early in your career."
    I shake my head.
    "I don't think I qualify for that," I argue. "I just did what I like to do and it turns out that working my ass off is just about the only thing I enjoy."
    That is an outrageous lie, but if Will knew about the things I truly enjoy, he would certainly not think of me as a role model for his baby-faced son.
    "Well, it certainly paid off for you," Pete says. He gestures towards the girl standing next to him. "My fiancée, Sandria."
    I step forward and shake her hand. She beams at me, pretty but so utterly empty that it almost offends me. There is no depth behind her undoubtedly beautiful eyes, no character in her motions. She looks like a picture perfect doll.
    "Very nice to meet you," she says in a high-pitched voice. "And this is my sister, Lucia, and her husband, Adam."
    I dutifully shake their hands as well, catching Lucia’s eyes for just a moment. They are just as hollow as those of her younger sister.
    We engage in painfully boring small talk. It wouldn't be half as bad to talk to Will on his own. I like the guy. He is