Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“Is there anything you think I might like to know about the way Mom died? Like… I don’t know… maybe that it wasn’t an accident?” My voice is far more accusing than intended, but I can’t stop the emotions from slipping out.
“Bianca—”
“The way you always told me it was?”
“You don’t understand.” His chair legs scrape over the floor when he pushes back and out of it. He’s trying to escape, to run away from the truth, but I can’t keep living a lie. I just can’t.
I’m out of mine before he can make his escape. “No, Dad. I’m begging you. I need to know the truth. What have you been keeping from me?”
The apples of his cheeks grow red, and his dark eyes narrow. “Did it ever occur to you,” he murmurs in a deceptively low voice, “that I have reasons for what I do? For what I share with my child?”
“I’m not a child anymore.” My hands slap against the tabletop hard enough to make our glasses shake. “And I can’t forget what you said. You told me Mom was murdered. Is that true? Tell me the truth.”
The corners of his mouth twist in a smirk that baffles me until he retorts, “Not if you ask the detectives assigned to the case.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the official story is a car accident. It’s always been a car accident.” Does he know he’s rubbing his palms over his thighs? Like they’re sweaty. Like he’s nervous. My nerves are rattling, so I can relate to that.
I need to do this, even if it feels like I’m pulling the bandage off a healing wound. I’ll hate myself forever if I miss this opportunity.
“What’s the other story?” I whisper, unsure whether I want the answer.
He draws a deep breath that expands his chest and reminds me what a fit, powerful man he still is. It’s easy to look at your dad and see an old man, but the truth is, he’s only a year older than Callum. I hate to think of him wasting away, drinking himself to death in a house full of filthy dishes and takeout containers. It'll be worth it if it means suffering through what I’m about to hear so I can help him through whatever he’s dealing with.
“The other story.” He lowers his brow, folding his arms as his jaw juts out like he’s pissed off, bitter. “The other story involves your mother’s autopsy featuring a bullet wound to the head. Her original autopsy.”
I grip the table edge in fear of falling to the floor. “Original?”
He nods. “As in the first autopsy, before the report was altered.”
My hand flails around behind me to grab my chair before I end up on my ass. “And you know that for sure? That the report was altered?”
“I saw the original before the alteration. It disappeared from my desk, and everyone I asked pretended it was never there. All this time, they’ve been telling me it was never a gunshot wound. They’ve treated me like I was a poor, hallucinating widower.”
“But…” It’s getting harder to breathe. My throat seems to be closing, my heart constricting a little more with every beat. “Why?”
“That’s where Callum Torrio comes in.” His expression softens for the first time since this started, but only a smidge. “I’m sorry, honey. This is why I didn’t want you to know. I knew it would hurt because of Tatum, but you deserve to know the truth.” He shakes his head. “I should’ve told you a long time ago, before you two became so close. Nothing good can ever come of that family.” He’s vibrating with rage so intense the air practically crackles around him. The light hanging over the table casts eerie shadows over his face and hides his eyes when he lowers his brow again. “Callum knew I was after him. That I finally had something that I could pin on him. Watching him get away with his crimes… I couldn’t let it go, except the man was Teflon. He still is. Nothing sticks to him.”
I shouldn’t have said anything. No, he shouldn’t have lied. How could I have known where it would go?
It should shock me to know Dad and Callum had it out for each other, but I always assumed it had to do more with the illegal wrongdoings that Callum got away with and my father’s deep moral compass of taking down corruption. This is much more than I could’ve bargained for. “He knew? You’re sure about that?”
“I wasn’t exactly discreet,” he snorts. “He knew damn well I’ve made it my mission to take him down.”
I’m starting to see it. I don’t want to. I want to close my eyes and pretend it isn’t so sharp.
“He put a bullet in your mother’s brain as a warning to me,” Dad concludes in a grim voice. “I know it must be painful to hear that. I’ve told myself for years that Tatum is not her father, but it’s inevitable that she’ll start taking after him as she ages. No matter how good of a person or how different she tries to be from her father, his blood still runs in her veins.” His forehead smooths, and he smiles. “Now that I have what I’ve been looking for, I can finally put all of this to rest.”