All she wants is her life back. Best-selling author Mona Mason discovers her estranged niece has plotted against her. Mona fights to escape an oppressive resort where she's been held captive for weeks, only to be kidnapped by her obsessed fan.
All she wants is her life back. Best-selling author Mona Mason discovers her estranged niece has plotted against her. Mona fights to escape an oppressive resort where she's been held captive for weeks, only to be kidnapped by her obsessed fan.
Against Her Will
Part I Death
Chapter 1
Mona
Saturday, September 7
11:30 a.m.
Heavenly Place Funeral Home
The family stood around me as the casket was lowered to the ground. Their black clothes matched their bleak faces as the gray clouds gathered, ready to burst. Babies screamed, and children whispered. My mother-in-law cried loudly, anchored by her two sons, and my father-in-law stood nearby nervously, his hands shaking.
The priest mumbled a few trite words as I remained frozen in shock. My stomach was in knots with a large lump in my throat; I held back tears, wanting it to be over.
"How are you holding up? Can I do anything?" said a familiar voice.
I turned to see Marilyn in a slim black suit, smiling slightly. She hugged me, and I almost crumpled in her arms.
Marilyn held onto my arm as people threw dirt over the coffin. I shuddered, knowing this was the final moment in which they would acknowledge his death. The police said Jonathon had died on the way down from Eternity Falls, indeed a name for disaster. He skidded, then lost control as the bike plummeted forcefully down the mountain. Had it been the brakes again? Or the operator? Jonathon had been a skilled rider, having completed thousands of miles on that e-bike. I hated that piece of machinery, with its efficient brakes and Euro-made mechanisms that failed to break the fall and prevent him from going over the trail's edge.
Just a few days ago, I’d been setting up Jon’s funeral. I’d almost fainted at the funeral home when they’d asked how he was to be buried, the wording on the prayer cards, the photo placed on the casket, and the type of flowers for the altar.
Now I stood there, taking it all in, and wondered how I was going to manage, since Jon had been my rock. Unfortunately, I still had to handle the reception after the funeral.
Thank goodness for my sister Marilyn, who’d arranged all the details. She’d found the Heavenly Place Funeral Home, with its green lawns overlooking the ocean waves. I was barely hanging on by a thread, unable to understand the circumstances of his death, let alone manage the aftereffects.
The day it happened was a blur. I’d hurried to get to the police station, verify Jon’s identity, then proceeded to begin the funeral-planning process. He was so skilled at traversing those trails. How could one bump in the road lead to death? It hadn’t been his time, and didn’t make sense. Someone had to be accountable.
I noticed most of the family gathered here, except for my estranged niece, Chelsea. Someone had called her, and Chelsea had said she might show up for the reception. But it was a big if.
Chelsea hadn't been around for ten years, so it would be no big deal, just another disappointment of past rejections and ignored attempts. It didn’t matter to her that we’d raised and adopted her when her father had gone on military duty in Afghanistan. But she was a Mason.
As I stood there trying not to cry, I felt someone tap me on the back.
"I'm so sorry. It's so sudden. How are you doing?" I looked back at my weepy best friend, Shelby, with relief. She had always been there at my darkest moments.
Sprinkles of rain fell on our heads, and the priest said his last words before the downpour. If I shed tears, I would probably fall apart right here. I just wanted it to be over so I could go lie down in my bedroom alone.
Would this ever end? I reflected on Jonathon’s sister Molly’s eulogy in St. Edwards Church just an hour ago, when she’d remembered his generosity and his brother Pete’s admission of Jonathan’s strength and determination. Why hadn't they let Jonathon know how they’d felt about him before he’d passed away? They were waiting for him to die before they coughed up their admiration. It was all too sad and frustrating. No one understood that I just wanted it to end, because my heart was breaking.
I sensed that my world had changed forever. It struck me that I was single now that my partner was gone. No one to drink a margarita or watch the latest sci-fi movie with. The night he died, I stared into the darkness for a long time, tossing and turning, eventually falling asleep, then waking up to the ceiling crashing down on me. I realized it was just a bad dream, sought his hand for reassurance, but noticed the empty side of the bed. I screamed and started a crying fit that finally put me to sleep. I’d woken up red-eyed and heavy-hearted, my pulse racing.
What would life be like now? Someone nudged my shoulder, and I came back to reality. Marilyn whispered that it was time to leave the gravesite and put together the reception.
“Are you all right? Do you want to cancel?”
I shook my head as I realized the large group would descend upon my home. Many were walking toward their cars as the clouds dumped rain. I opened my umbrella as the water soaked through my shoes. But I didn’t care.
"Let's get this over with. I think I can deal with all this if I have my glass of pinot gris," I said.
But then I remembered I only had some cheese trays and bottles of wine in the refrigerator. It would have to do.
Marilyn smiled and guided me to the car. I closed my eyes as she accelerated to sixty miles per hour, hoping to beat the hungry crowd. We turned into the driveway in a matter of minutes, and I saw a white truck parked in front of my oceanfront home.
"I hope you don't mind that I ordered a caterer—thought it would be easier for you. They'll do everything—set the tables, arrange the flowers, prepare the food, and clean up," said Marilyn.
I sighed.
"Perfect…what would I do without you?"
We hurried inside, and Marilyn directed the staff to the kitchen.
I excused myself and headed for my bedroom. I slipped into the adjoining bathroom and noticed the dark purple circles under my eyes and that my cracked lips needed some gloss. A lump settled in my throat. How would I be able to read my soliloquy about Jonathon?
I glanced at the pictures on my bureau of us together—at Disneyland in our matching shirts, at the Hohensalzburg Fortress in Austria eating a three-course meal, strolling the beach in Santa Monica, riding our bikes, and stopping for a picnic lunch. We were always smiling, happy to be together visiting somewhere for the first time and experiencing it like newlyweds. Flashes of memories floated around me as I recalled the years of our marriage reflected in the photos and the keepsakes around the room. A buffalo sculpture from Catalina Island, an origami horse that Jonathon created for me, a jasmine-scented candle commemorating our anniversary, a black pearl ring from a trip to Hawaii, and a book of poetry from a debut author. All unique and perfectly chosen during our special times together. A tear rolled down my cheek, and I wondered how I would get through this day. I fluffed my hair, changed my shoes, and decided there was only one way to cope.
I entered the living room and my stomach growled at the sight of a long table with trays of fresh fruit, crab and shrimp, hot canapes, Swedish meatballs, cheese, and crackers. The smell of delicious food filled my nostrils as I lifted a lid from the serving dish, realizing I hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. A young waiter with a man bun in a dark gray uniform handed me a glass of white wine from a silver tray, his eyes downcast. Just what I needed.
"Ms. Turner said to bring you some pinot gris," he said shyly.
I murmured thanks and sipped the crisp, tart wine, gazing out the living room windows beyond the expansive patio and white beach to the roaring ocean. I would miss sitting beside the firepit with Jonathon and enjoying the warm breezes and the crash of waves.
I heard the doorbell ringing and saw my sister answering the door. The guests, drenched from the sudden rain, rushed in, filling the high-ceilinged room, sitting on the spring-green couches and flowered chairs, congregating at the food table and exclaiming over the new Disney animated painting collection. I wondered if my estranged niece would show up. But only Jonathon's relatives poured in, comforting his forlorn parents, leaving me to grieve alone.
I smiled, seeing my publicist Tina walking towards me, along with Shelby and Marilyn in a protective circle.
"I'm so glad you're here now," I said as we all pushed together in a group hug.
"Who's that?" said Shelby.
A young woman entered the room in a long black sweater dress and boots, her golden hair touching her shoulders. Her surprised grandparents and cousins beamed in recognition, and they exchanged warm hugs and kisses.
"How convenient for her to show up now," said Marilyn.
"It's Chelsea," I said.
"The long-lost niece?" said Shelby.
“Chelsea--a younger version of you,” said Tina.
I watched her chatting with the clan, wondering if she would acknowledge me. I waited patiently, sipping my wine. Suddenly, my eyes caught hers. Chelsea broke through the crowd, advancing toward me. My inner circle scattered. My stomach clenched as she gave me a quick hug and little pecks on each cheek.
"Hello, Aunt Mona. So-so-sorry for your loss, it must be so painful," said Chelsea.
I inhaled deeply, and my heart fluttered. Chelsea had returned after all these years; now, this stranger stared at me as if the last time we’d seen each other was yesterday. I noticed that slight stutter from her childhood. Her shallow statements hit me like a gut punch. Was I happy to see her?
"I'm okay for now. Please excuse me," I mumbled, unprepared for this awkward moment when my emotions were already about to explode.
But I owed Jonathon, and I needed to acknowledge his death. I nodded at Marilyn, who clinked her glass to quiet the room.
"Thank you all for coming. Jonathon was my best friend and partner for over thirty-five years. He touched so many with his brilliance, charisma, and passion. Unfortunately, his death was sudden, and we were not prepared to accept his passing. But Jonathon left his mark on this world, becoming one of the greatest software designers in history. He worked and played hard, never giving up and striving for more. We'll all miss him deeply,” I said, ending my speech abruptly.
But I couldn’t contain myself, and tears flowed down my face. My niece reached out her hand, but I kept my arms tightly at my side. Chelsea moved away, blending into the crowd as Marilyn approached me with a tissue.
"Everyone, help yourself to any refreshments. We also have prayer cards; please sign the memory book," said Marilyn.
Soft music played in the background; I noted it was George Winston on the piano, Jonathon's favorite. The room blurred, and I swayed, my feet unsteady, my pulse racing.
My circle gathered around me once again.
"Are you okay?" said Tina.
"Do you need some water?" said Marilyn.
"Maybe you should sit down," said Shelby.
I could hear the guests' muffled voices, dishes clattering, and now the waves outside. I stood there, motionless, staring at the ocean.
"She looks catatonic," I overheard Shelby saying.
I zoned out to the whispering voices, thinking about how I’d never see Jonathon again. A rush of wind and the presence of someone nearby jolted me back to reality.
“Sit down—you’re looking pale,” said Chelsea, taking my elbow.
I gulped and stared at Chelsea’s expressionless face.
“Dave, your lawyer, contacted me. He gave me bad news. About. The will,” whispered Chelsea.
She guided me to the back corner of the room, away from the guests. Her words stunned me.
My heart thumped as I felt Chelsea’s fury. Her lips curled into a brittle smile.
"Please, don’t make a scene. What are you going to do about it?" I whispered back nervously. I didn’t know the woman that Chelsea had grown into. The irony of it all—Chelsea coming back after ten years and expecting a considerable inheritance. I felt her rage as she gripped my arm tightly, attempting to hold me up. But my legs wobbled, my heart palpitated wildly, and a layer of sweat washed over me.
“You did this. Not going to get away with it…I’ll fight it,” Chelsea said, facing me with her back to the crowd.
Their subdued voices blended into the background.
I wanted desperately to get away, fearing her menacing threats as her hands squeezed my arms tightly. Her signature perfume, White Shoulders by Evyan, overpowered me as her face got closer to mine.
“Let go of me. We can talk about this later. It’s about Jonathon today, not you,” I said as a sharp pain ripped through my shoulder.
I broke away from her. Chelsea smiled broadly as she pretended to guide me to the reception table.
The room blurred, and my knees buckled as I fell to the floor. I clutched my chest and screamed.
“Help me—I think I’m having a heart attack.”
“Call 911,” I heard Marilyn say.
But Chelsea was right there, attempting to give me CPR.
“Get her away from me, she’s dangerous,” I yelled.
The group moved in to see what was happening. Fifty pairs of eyes stared down at me. A worried Dave held my hand. Marilyn pressed a cold cloth to my head.
“She’s trying to help you until the paramedics get here. Just relax,” Marilyn said calmly.
But the fear grew stronger as Chelsea pounded my chest. It felt like a jackhammer, and I prayed the EMTs would get here soon.
Shelby slipped a pillow under my head, and I started to pass out.
I hope I’m not going to die here today. So much work to be done before my book is released.
“My book…my interviews…can’t let down my fans,” I said softly.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Mason—we’ll take care of everything,” said Tina, holding my other hand. I saw a strange look pass between Tina and Chelsea.
Sirens blared and screamed their welcome.
Wavy lines danced in front of me as the room closed in. I didn’t remember anything after that.
Mona, a popular sci-fi author, recently lost her husband in a tragic accident. As reality strikes her at his funeral, she suddenly finds herself at an unfamiliar resort with her estranged niece suddenly back in her life and making decisions on her behalf. Mona realizes she is trapped and has lost complete control of her life.
Determined to find a way out and gain control of her life again, she trusts no one and slowly starts putting the pieces together, all while planning her escape. But life on the outside isn’t as easy as it once was, and her freedom is short lived when danger finds her yet again.
I admired Mona’s strength and determination. Not just in her quest to get out of the resort, but in how she handled her husband’s death and the betrayal of friends and family. She also trusted her gut that something wasn’t right, when she could have easily fallen for the lies she was being fed.
As much as I wanted to dislike Chelsea, I knew she was misunderstood. She was making an effort to get her life back on track, but going about it the wrong way and putting her trust in the wrong people. I was secretly rooting for her throughout the book, in hopes that she would finally find her way back to the right path and make amends with Mona.
I couldn’t stop reading, I was determined to find out what the heck was going on as soon as possible. And in that sense, the story did its job in keeping me hooked. But unfortunately the revelation of everything wasn’t just as thrilling as I was expecting. I think for all of the build up and chaos, I was expecting some insane plot twist that never came.
Overall, this book kept me on the edge of my seat. My eyes were glued to the pages anxiously trying to get to the revelation of everything that had built up. But unfortunately, there was no “wow” factor for me.