LUCAS
My inbox is full. There are a dozen voicemails waiting for me to give them my attention.
But here I am in my apartment, nursing a Scotch, too sick in what’s left of my soul to do more than swing between rage and self-loathing. That’s been the rhythm of my days since leaving Delilah in that cell. Since I almost lost my daughter so soon after I found her.
My fault. My fucking fault. I told myself I was keeping her here for Aspen’s sake, yet I couldn’t have made it easier for her to go behind my back. Hindsight is 20/20, right? I’ve spent every waking moment since that night going over the many times I could have chosen differently and avoided what eventually unfolded.
I could have kept her locked up here, so she couldn’t have sneaked out. No leaving the guest room unlocked, no letting her walk around like she owned the apartment.
I could have stuck to my word and refused any sort of sexual contact between us.
I could have kicked Marcel out of school for some reason, any reason. I should’ve known, should’ve seen there was something brewing.
I sure as hell should have made sure Delilah and Aspen never spent time together. That might be the most regrettable mistake of all. Why didn’t I see through Delilah? I should have forbidden her from getting to know my daughter. I shouldn’t have allowed them to spend time together, even supervised. The girl is clever, sharp. I should’ve known she’d find a way to get around Quinton and have a few private moments with Aspen.
But I was too busy telling myself I had everything under control. That so long as I made sure the girl knew who called the shots, everything would hum along like a well-oiled machine. Who the hell do I think I am? My pride almost got Aspen kidnapped, murdered, and who knows what else.
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.”