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“I have to go to the lobby to speak to the rest of his family,” Dr. Booth said. “You should have been out there with them. You shouldn’t have watched.”
“Why not? I watched him die, didn’t I?” She tongued the cuts in her cheek, bitten as she waited for her father to wake. Blood oozed from each puncture.
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. Randolph.” Booth slipped his arm around her waist, more to prod her toward the waiting room than for comfort. “It’s the country’s loss as well, I can assure you. Everyone will mourn your father. He was one of the most beloved prime ministers we’ve ever—”
Something about the doctor’s voice tugged at her wrongly.
She grabbed his collar and shoved him into an empty emergency suite. His back shuddered as she rammed him into the off-white wall.
“What did you give him?”
Booth did not seem surprised to be shoved. Perhaps he had been shoved many times before in the clinic, even among the highborn. “I don’t know what—”
“The wine,” she hissed, slapping his back into the wall once more. “He poured a glass of wine and took some pill right in front of me. Who takes heart medication with wine?”
“I just upped it at our last appointment.”
“He said it was new.”
“He likely would have said anything so long as he could have eaten his steak in peace. He never listened to either of us about his heart.” Booth gripped her fingers, trying to pry them from the neck of his scrubs.
Lila did not let go.
“The man thought he’d live forever, Ms. Randolph. I couldn’t convince him otherwise. I loved him like a brother, but you’re not the only one pissed off at him right now. If you wish, I’ll perform an autopsy. No doubt the senate will request—”
“I couldn’t give a shit what the senate wants.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Don’t be flippant, and stop feeding me false sympathy. You gave him something, and I want to know what it was. I swear to the gods, if you lie to me, I will dig through every record, every dusty nook and cranny of your life. I will find something you don’t want the rest of the world to see, and I will show that thing to the world.”
“Madam, it was just a—”
“Don’t you madam me. My father didn’t have a heart attack. No one takes a pill, has a stroll through memory lane, and dies in their sleep. He planned this.”
“It was a heart attack. Let it go.”
“Let it go? How about I let it go on your face? You gave him a bullet, just like Mr. Shaw gave one to La Roux. Someone has to uphold Bullstow’s honor, right?”
Booth’s eyes widened for only a split second. Then he looked away hurriedly.
It was enough.
Her father had planned the whole damn night. He’d wanted her to stay with him. He’d chosen her to be there.
He’d made her promise things.
He’d not told her the truth, and she’d not used their last few hours wisely. She’d never even told him about the baby.
She’d thought she would have time later.
Lila shoved Booth into the wall, harder. “Save your excuses, you mindless, robotic, pathetic piece of shit. You and my father worked together for a very long time. You hid many an inconvenient corpse.”
Booth tore free from her grasp and retreated, skittering away from reach. He held up his hands. “Ms. Randolph, I know you’re upset.”
“Upset? You killed my father! You don’t know the meaning of the word!”
Booth hopped out of the way, backing into the center of the room, his back stooped in a crouch. He licked his lips, and the light caught the sheen. “I didn’t kill him. I gave him the means to go out in the most peaceful way I know how. I did the best I could by him.”
