The Billionaire Heir Called Me a Freeloader, I'd Bankrolled His Family for 600 Years novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: The Storm

I got back to the tower at dusk, and the first thing I did was go up to the roof.

Rowan was on his knees between two rows of orchids with a trowel in his hand.

He looked up when the door opened.

"Mr. Willoughby's trust pays you," I said.

He sat back on his heels.

"Yes."

"Richard Willoughby. You know him?"

"I've met him twice. He interviewed me himself four years ago, in a hospital bed after his first scare." He wiped his hands on his jacket. "He said the garden had one resident and she was to have the sun at the right angle and a hot cup of tea. That was the whole job."

"Did he say why?"

"No. I didn't ask. The pay was good and the work was easy."

I looked at him for a while.

He didn't look away, and he didn't offer anything else.

"I saw him today," I said. "He wrote the word Garden."

Rowan's brow creased.

"Is he all right?"

"No. But he's alive, and he knows who's been wronged."

I didn't tell him more. I wasn't ready to.

The first drops hit the glass roof of the greenhouse bay, and Rowan looked up.

"That's early," he said. "The forecast said midnight."

Thunder came from the river side.