My eyes flick to the soft glow emanating from Fleur’s bedroom window to the silhouette of Mia brushing her hair in hers. I feel like I’m stretched too thin to protect everyone who’s important to me, despite my best efforts.
I chose the girls over Ophelia, I chose my family over her. It’s the decision I always knew I’d have to make; it’s the right decision. But I can’t help but imagine how it feels for Ophelia. Left behind, like she always has been.
Fuck.
I drag a cigarette out of the box and light it. “And you ofallpeople can’t trace it?”
“I can trace it, but it’s no help. It was taken at Sorrowsong, obviously,” he says, like I’m three years old.
“But sent from New York?”
“Sent from Sorrowsong, too.”
“So either Ophelia has herself a new enemy, or …?”
“Or your father has made his way to Scotland to punish Ophelia for the article. Would he do that?”
I open my mouth to ask how my father would cross continents with an international arrest warrant but don’t bother. He has endless connections in the aviation industry and bottomless wealth, both in cash and in private banks.
Would he do that?It’s a good question. I try to put myself in my father’s shoes, imagine I’m on the run with nothing left to lose. “I’m not sure that he would. She’s a nobody in his eyes.”
Ophelia lost a lot when that article went live, but from an outsider’s perspective, I won. Inherited a company I had no right to inherit, gained the favor of the media, got rid of the father I never liked. I imagine my father hates me more than anyone else right now. “I think if Cain were to want to punish anyone, it’d be me.”
“That’s what Mack thinks, too. He thinks your father is waiting for a good time to corner you. He might still believe he can get his life back.”
Dread trickles down my spine, too hot, too sticky. I’m not afraid of whatever he has planned for me, but if one of the girls were to get caught in the cross fire …
I shudder, my next drag on the cigarette a burning fire beneath my freezing skin. “I have to go to her.”
“I think your team is really against that idea.”
The unspoken reasoning behind his statement drums up a visceral rage, boiling and volatile in my chest. “We are not throwing Ophelia under the bus for what happened to Bancroft.”
“If Rocco has done a good enough job of burying him, we won’t need to, as long as we silence whoever’s texting her before they leak the photo.”
“Leak or not, it’s not happening,” I bite out. “If she’s getting a manslaughter charge, I am, too.”
“Do you hear how you sound? You have a family.”
Maybe I sound ridiculous to him, but for me, there is no debate. I will not be one more person using Ophelia like that. My father used her parents’ death to mop up the evidence of an affair. I won’t use her life to mop up the evidence of a murder. “Drop it.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, defensively.
“I’m going to visit her,” I declare into the cloudless night, more to myself than Brendan. Like I’m giving myself a little pep talk.This’ll all work out marvelously, Alex. Ophelia will be delighted that you came and definitelywon’ttear you a new one as soon as she sees you.
A sigh is all I get in return.
“There’s an aviation conference in London this weekend anyway.”
“Oh, is there?” he says, and I think he’s convinced I’ve lost it. “Amazing. I, too, love to take eleven-hour detours when I’m on business trips. Do me a favor and keep your trip to Scotland off any electronic records. Don’t fly to Inverness. I’ll book you a rental car from London under an alias.”
“Will do,” I say. “And my seven-year-old sister thinks they’re putting less marshmallows in.”
“Fucking knew it,” he mumbles before hanging up, like he’s just solved the biggest case of his career.
With the New York February chill biting its way through the thin fabric of my gym top, I open up my texts and ask Jacqueline to book my flights.
I’m going to see Ophelia again.
