Page 131 of The Truth of Us

I shrugged, and silence settled between us.

Finally, he turned. His dark eyes locked on mine, saying, "So tell me." His voice remained calm. "Why?"

I blinked.

"Why, what?"

He studied me with the same intensity Harper used when she was trying to solve someone.

"My daughter left you. You owe her nothing. You owe me nothing. And yet you've cost your company millions. From what I have been told, your board is furious. And now the media has attached your name to mine." Another pause. "So why?"

I looked down at my desk, at the reports still scattered across it, which proved exactly that what he was saying was true. Northwell stock was down, and Caleb and Julian were working on a potential merger to course-correct. But we still had investor concerns, and I had a lengthy list of legal recommendations. A lengthy report on options for crisis management. A few weeks ago, I would have read every page. Today… I barely remembered they existed. Somehow they weren’t what had me concerned…

"Because she shouldn't have to carry it."

Alexander didn't interrupt, so I continued shifting my weight and straightening to my full height, “The reporters, the nasty headlines… my mistakes. The weight of everyone deciding who she is before asking." I rubbed the back of my neck, and then lowered my voice, adding, "I couldn't stop most of it." I sniggered. "I certainly couldn't stop what happened all those years ago." I looked back up. "But I can stop adding to it; I can take the focus and the blame. I can make choices now that protect her."

Alexander was quiet long enough that I wondered if I'd said the wrong thing. Then he asked, "Do you love my daughter?"

The question should have been simple. Instead… It stole every prepared answer I'd ever had. I laughed once, not because it was funny. But it seemed to be my nervous response, and I knew I needed to be honest. I knew with every fibre of my being that if I ever stood a chance with Harper; I needed to get this right.

"I spent my entire adult life making sure nobody could ask me that."

Alexander waited.

"It turns out..." I shook my head. "...it doesn't matter whether I'm ready to answer." I met his eyes. "Yes." The one word came out in a whoosh, like my body could finally expel the answer I had been holding close. "I love her."

I held my breath, waiting for his response. Alexander nodded once, as though confirming something he'd already suspected. Then his attention shifted to the folders spread across my desk.

"You've been looking into my family."

There was no accusation in his voice, only observation.

I reached for the thickest file. "I've been trying to understand what happened." I slid it across the desk. "Because I realized someone wanted your family destroyed."

Alexander looked down; his expression didn't change. He opened the file. The first few pages were old newspaper articles, then timelines, and I had a contact dig into financial records, which led to the discovery of shell companies and corporate registrations. Information that is much easier to find now than it would have been decades ago. Private investigator notes Rowan had somehow obtained. His eyes stopped moving halfway through. The silence became unbearable. Finally, he whispered, "...no."

I said nothing, and he continued reading. I knew what was in that folder, and I could tell by the tension in his jaw, the white of his clenched knuckles, that I knew what he was reading. A payment, then another, a transfer through a shell corporation three days before the woman came forward. Then another larger payment six weeks later. A different name, but the same account, the same destination. Then the largest of the payments, which I could only assume was hush money to make sure the truth never came out after the accident.

Alexander closed the file carefully, but I didn’t miss the shake in his hands.

"My father."

I nodded once. “From what I could dig up so far, it looks like he paid her. He provided her with the information needed to make it look plausible, your schedule, dates when you could have been with her…” The words hung in the room. "He was desperate, wanted you back in the fold. He wanted the children to fulfill the Montgomery dynasty's expectations." Alexander said nothing, so I cleared my throat and added, "I don't think he expected..."

I couldn't finish it, but Alexander did. "...the photographers."

His voice cracked.

"I don't think anyone expected that." I offered,

Neither of us spoke for a long time. Finally, he looked up; his eyes were glassy. "You could have sold this."

"Yes."

"You could have gone to the press."

"Yes."