Ollie Vance - Book Two: Ashes and Smoke

Chapter Four

I spent the rest of afternoon going through the paperwork of allocating funds for the bakeshop’s remodeling project.

I wasn’t kidding when I told Patrick earlier that I had the money for it and that closing the business for a couple of weeks wasn’t going to make us go under.

See, our parents were from middle-class families as far as Jesse and I knew and sure, Dad had a really good job being a head engineer and all but we didn’t really think we were rich.

After our mother died, we had just turned eighteen and the family lawyer sat us down to talk about our parents’ estate and what they left behind for us.

Other than this house, they had about a dozen other properties in the country and abroad which were being rented out. These were not small properties—they included a New York penthouse, a beach-front mansion along the Florida Keys, a townhouse in London and an apartment in Paris to name a few. The rent alone on these properties were a hefty paycheck considering there were no mortgages on them to pay for. Other than the real-estate, our parents also had sizable stocks and holdings with several major companies. Then they each left us a trustfund in the eight-figure range plus bank accounts that had a staggering amount of money in them as well.

Jesse and I were stunned at learning that we were filthy rich and we had no idea how.

We were raised with a modest childhood, never needing for anything yet never having been indulged either. Our parents lived within their visible means and were never lavish or showy.

We decided not to ask questions and accept our good fortune and we’ve both been good at keeping it under wraps. We invested the money and only took what we needed and sustained ourselves with our own jobs and the bakeshop’s business.

We agreed to write two cheques—one each for Patrick and Mary Anne—as a parting gift from our mother to help them pay off their houses. Both had been stunned and refused to accept but Jesse and I insisted, knowing it would make their lives easier. They raised us along with our parents and continued to look after us when Mom started withering away after Dad’s death.

They were our only family left and obviously, money was no object.

When all that paperwork was done, I spent more time in my garden and eventually came back inside to make dinner. I fixed myself a turkey sandwich and ate alone, watching some TV.

I tried calling my brother but only his voicemail picked up so I left him a message.

I was just closing up around the house before going upstairs to shower and get ready for bed when I heard some commotion outside.

I grabbed my shotgun and poised it at the door.

“Who is it?” I demanded, my heart thudding so loudly it nearly filled my ears.

I have random people visit me often but after what happened today, I was taking no chances.

I reached to brush the curtain aside when the door was suddenly kicked open.

I screamed as the three creatures that were in the bakeshop this afternoon rushed into my house and I managed to shoot one of them in the head before another one grabbed the gun away from me.

“Well, aren’t you one feisty bitch?” the creature I stabbed this morning said as he advanced towards me, one eye swollen and shut and matted with a scab around it. “You think I was going to let you get away after what you did to me?”

I scrambled to my feet and lunged for the hallway that led to the backdoor but he yanked me by the hair.

“You’re not going anywhere, babe,” he said as he threw me down on the floor. “Not until I’m done with you.”