Mikey got up suddenly, outrage written all over his face. “F-father, I-”
My father silenced Mikey with a swipe of his arm. “You knew where she was, and you didn’t tell me. Once again, you’ve failed me. And you,” he said, pointing a gnarled finger at me. “All this nonsense is finished. You will marry for your family. You will stop embarrassing me. You will be a Coleton woman, and you will embrace your duty to this family.”
I was about to stand up and tell him to go fuck himself, but Adrian was discreetly tapping my arm with the back of his finger. I didn’t understand what it meant, but then it hit me.
I could almost picture his lips forming the words. Play nice. Get the laptop. We’ll get through this.
I swallowed and looked down at my lap, even though it took every ounce of self-control I had not to try to flip the massive table and scream. I couldn’t believe I’d messed this up for Adrian. But if I could still get that laptop, I could fix this.
“Well,” Adrian said. His voice sounded oddly flat. I could tell he was acting. Just like me, he was doing whatever it took to salvage this unexpected turn. To keep my father’s guard down and protect what slim chance we still had of finishing the mission. “Thank you for the dinner, Russ. I suppose I’ll be leaving now.”
My father sneered, his voice stopping Adrian in his tracks. “You know, the reason you wanted to do this wasn’t obvious at first. But then we realized your father died after working for us. Fifty-seven and dead of cancer, no? Let me guess. You blame me for your father’s death, and this was your way of getting back at me?”
Adrian had been controlling his rage, but I could see his control threatening to crack. His knuckles were pure white, and his hands were balled into fists. “Will you refuse to open the gates for my car unless I listen to the rest of your evil villain speech about how clever you are?”
My father chuckled. My mother was doing what she always did in these situations. Sitting still, face blank as if she’d checked out to another plane of existence. Mikey was sulking over the way this had all soured on him.
“You know,” my father said. “If you hadn’t been trying to destroy me, I think I could’ve found a place for you at my right hand.”
“Does that mean the gate is still locked?” Adrian asked.
“You’re free to leave. I should warn you that my legal team is drafting a case against you and your team as we speak.”
Adrian turned to leave but paused with his back to my father. “Actually, there is something I want to say to you. Fifty-seven and dead of cancer?” he said, turning to face the table again. His jaw was flexed, showing a diagonal line of muscle down his cheek. “You should know he was a good man. Loyal to your company. Happy. A single father who always made time for his son. A father who taught his son how to follow through and finish what he started. He taught his son about honor and decency. He died, just like hundreds and maybe thousands of others because you wanted to save money. That’s the price of all this,” Adrian said, gesturing to the drapes hanging beside him and the oil painting on the wall. “This whole house is built on blood.”
Adrian walked to a large painting of a man on a horse on some sort of battlefield. He pulled it from the wall and drove his knee through the canvas.
“What did that painting cost you?” Adrian asked. “How much money of yours did I just waste?”
My father regarded him with a calm expression. “Two point four million.”
“Did you ever go back and check your math? Did you try to figure out how much you saved by using the pesticide you used instead of the more expensive one?”
“We saved four hundred million dollars over twenty years. And some change.”
“Four hundred million, three hundred forty thousand. And some change,” Adrian corrected. “But you spent three hundred of that suppressing the research against the pesticide. Eighty fighting the legal cases, including my father’s. Fifteen settling cases you knew you couldn’t win. Five was spent bribing jurors and judges. And two point three million for pissing off the son of a man you killed. If my math checks out, I just ruined what little profit you earned from poisoning your own employees.”
I expected an angry outburst from my father, but he only grinned, then raised his hands and slowly clapped. “What showmanship. Now get the fuck out of my house. I’d say I’ll see you in court, but I have no interest in wasting my time with you. I’ll sign the checks, and my attorneys will hound you until the day you fucking die. I also plan to get every penny back for that painting you just destroyed.”