Page 16 of Promise of Punishment

“Will do.”

If anything happened to them because of me, I’ll lose my shit in a murderous way. Anger burns through my veins as I stride to the punching bag and pound on it until my knuckles bleed.

My ribs ache like I re-fractured them. I haven’t felt pain like this in weeks. Forcing myself to stop my assault on the bag, I step back and work to catch my breath. No tape to remove from my hands this time, but plenty of blood to wash off. I wipe my face and hands with the small towel and sling it over my shoulders as I climb the stairs to my bedroom on the third floor. After a shower, I distract myself by opening my laptop and searching for anything about Fable. It’s useless. No social media accounts come up for either of them, and I can’t remember the name of the one Fable mentioned when she was healing me.

An agonizing hour later, my phone shatters the silence with its ring.

It’s William.

I answer, “Tell me.”

“You’re not going to like this.”

“Fuck.”

“Your father offered a five-hundred-grand reward to the staff for anyone who could tell him who helped his son. He claims he heard you were injured on the property and someone stepped in. The money is his way of showing his gratitude.”

“Lying bastard.”

“Fable came forward and offered you up on a silver platter for the reward. Rumor among the staff is Fable wanted the money so her mum could stop working, and they could move even further away to a place where her abusive father could never hurt her or her mother again. Upon hearing this, your father took pity on them and offered to hide them in a secure location as a bonus.”

“My dad’s not the generous type. If he rewarded them, it’s because he got something he thought was worth the trade. Still…” I shake my head. “It’s hard to believe that sweet girl would betray me—least of all for money from my father.”

“Your dad can be a charmer if it serves his purpose.”

“He can. And the part about her dad being abusive is true. How else would he know that if she didn’t confess? It’s just hard to accept. I didn’t get the impression Fable was naive.”

Most people who endure the kind of trauma she did aren’t so trusting. They survive by being careful. She only confessed to me because I was beaten and left for dead. She saw a person she could relate to, and maybe she needed to share what happened with someone other than her mom. Maybe she’d never been able to. Fuck. Why did she have to betray me to the man I hate most in the world—a man who was abusive to me and my sister in ways Fable could never understand?

“With all due respect, Wes, you didn’t know her. Not really. She helped you when you were in a bad state and unable to think clearly.”

“True.” I mash my lips together and puff hot air through my nose. “I wish I knew exactly what she told my dad.”

“Enough for him to know you got out.”

Every muscle in my body hardens. The text! Instead of deleting the message I had her send Lachlan, she must have kept it and showed him. As cryptic as it was, my dad knows I sent for help and got it.

Goddamnit.

“What about Fable’s dad?” William asks. “Do you still want him to get paid?”

Meaning, have him killed. William has a contact in America who collected information on him and summarized a report for me.

Kip James Farrington is the second son of James Farrington, the owner and ancestor of the renowned shoe brand. He was a reckless teen who partied and enjoyed the finer things he got from being born to a family of great wealth. He continued this behavior into his twenties, was arrested for intoxication and drugs on several occasions, but was released with no jail time due to family friends in high places. He started an affair with Lola Navarro, his parents’ housekeeper, and, against their wishes, married her when she became pregnant. As a result, he was disinherited but able to keep what he had left in his dwindling trust fund and given ownership of one of the family’s vacant estates on Martha’s Vineyard.

For a few years, he tried to make a living for himself through his elite network of friends. He even lavished gifts upon his wife and daughter. That all changed when Fable was three years old. Kip started getting arrested again for intoxication, possession of cocaine, and assault at clubs. He was in cities more than he was home, and Lola went back to work as a housekeeper to affluent families on the island to support herself and her daughter. No abuse was ever reported, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. His assault record shows he can be confrontational and violent. His family refused to acknowledge Fable as their own due to her lower status and mixed ethnicity—the half-Spanish granddaughter of a housekeeper who was raised in foster care.

When I read the part about Fable’s ethnicity making her an unworthy grandchild, I almost got on a plane and killed her grandparents myself. The plan had been for Kip to be captured and held for me until I could get to the US and finish him off. He got arrested again and wasn’t bailed out this time.

“When does he get released?” I ask. It wasn’t documented in the report.

“A year.”

Anyone who physically abuses women and children should always be taught a lesson. Even if that lesson is death. “We’ll revisit the topic in a year once he’s out.”

“Anything else?”

“See if you can locate where my dad hid Fable and Lola.”