Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
There’s a reason she was kept from me. I have to laugh at myself as I pour another Scotch since the first one didn’t do the trick. I doubt this one will, either. I don’t know if there’s enough left in the bottle to wipe out the depth of my self-hatred. Charlotte knew I wasn’t fit to be a father. Hell, everybody did. There’s something inside me that’s too broken, too twisted. I can clean up my act all I want. That doesn’t change anything.
When my phone rings, I snarl at it. The world is still turning. Fuck the world. It can take care of itself for a little while. The ringing stops, and I let out a sigh of relief—before it starts again almost immediately.
Something about that makes my blood boil. I cross the room, pick up the phone, and my stomach sinks when I see it’s Nic calling. Of course. No one else would keep ringing until they pissed me off enough to make me answer. I don’t know if I have it in me to sound glad to hear from him, but then we’ve never much relied on formalities anyway.
“Yeah?” I ask on answering, shaking the ice in my glass.
“I hear we’re already well into the liquor cabinet this evening.”
“We are,” I growl. “Is that against the law now?”
“You know it isn’t. Just take it easy. You can’t run a school when you’re half in the bag all the time.”
“Who says I’m—”
“No one. Christ. I’m busting your balls.”
“You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m not in the mood for my balls to be busted.”
“Who is?” He lets it go, moving quickly to another topic. “I found something I knew you’d want to know. I couldn’t help but dig deeper into the trust. Something about it didn’t sit right with me.”
It’s still barely enough to grab my interest in my half-drunk state. What does any of it matter anymore? Nothing he says is going to exonerate the girl in the cell. “That makes two of us. What did you find?”
“It’s all about the fine print. The money is in her name, yes, but it’s not that simple.”
Dammit. Just like that, I care again. I’m barely breathing as I sit down with my drink. “Go on.”
“For one thing,” he continues with a sigh, “the bank wouldn’t allow her to access the money unless either Matteo or Rico were present at the lawyer’s office when she signed the paperwork.”
“Jesus Christ.” I should’ve known from what she told me that Dick wouldn’t make it easy.
“And in the event of their deaths, meaning neither of them would be available when she attempts to claim what’s hers, the money is automatically transferred to an offshore account.”
The full picture is clear now, and it sickens me. “He was putting together an emergency plan. Once he knew what those fuckers were going to do to Aspen, he wanted to be sure there was escape money in place for when the Rossi family came knocking.”
“So if his sons died, the money was still accessible. Which was all he cared about. It had nothing to do with Delilah. I’m sure he had no intention of her ever seeing a cent, even if things blew over and everybody lived.”
“If he survived and the boys didn’t, he’d have plenty of cash to haul ass. Rather than put plans in place to protect their lives, he made sure to set himself up.”
“Fucking prick.”
“It tracks with everything she’s said about him. He cared about his boys more than he ever did about her, but ultimately, he cared about himself most of all.”
“At least you know she was telling the truth about that much.”
“Not that it does much good. She had to go and destroy herself.”
Nic makes a thoughtful noise. “Is that what she did?”
“How can you ask me that? She almost got Aspen killed. You think she deserves to live after that?”
“It’s not me we’re talking about here. It’s you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I gulp the rest of my drink, but the anger brewing in my chest is hotter than the path the liquor carves as it goes down my throat.
“I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean. I know that no matter what happens, you’re going to do what’s right for you and your kid. At the end of the day, that’s all any of us can do. We protect what’s ours.”
But that’s the problem I have to face after getting off the call. Sitting in my silent apartment, staring at the wall, considering pouring another drink. I didn’t protect what’s mine. I came in after the fact, once the protecting had been done. I had to be roused out of bed by a fucking guard. I wasn’t there when Aspen needed me once again. All I did was clean up the loose ends—and even then, that’s not been completely done since Delilah still sits in a cell. So long as she continues to live, that end has not been tied up.