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Fuck.
Toby squeezes my hand, letting me know that it’s going to be okay, but his cunt of a father is the last person I wanted to run into today. Or any fucking day, for that matter.
“My only child got shot, am I not allowed to visit him?”
“O-of course. I just wasn’t expecting to see you. I know you’re busy with Mum and all this bullshit.”
His shoes squeak against the floor as he rounds the bed.
Tingles—and not the good kind—race over my skin as his eyes take me in. Or the back of me, at least.
“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Son. Are you going to introduce me?”
‘I’m sorry,’ Toby mouths quickly.
I squeeze his hand back and turn to face his father.
The second our eyes lock, anger crosses his face.
He knows exactly who I am.
Straightening my spine, I plaster the best smile I can muster up and swallow down any apprehension about meeting this motherfucker.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Ariti.”
“Estella, how wonderful to meet you after all these years.”
My skin prickles, disgust rolling through me as I stare at the man who’s done his best to single-handedly ruin both my mother and brother’s lives.
My teeth grind as I fight to plaster a smile on my face.
What I really want to do is grab any kind of weapon I can get my hands on and not let the fucker up until I watch him take his last breath, but I know I can’t.
So instead of acting on it, I allow that little fantasy to play out in my head while I continue to glare at him.
As much as I might want to hurt him, I know it’s not my place.
After everything he’s been through, Toby deserves to be the one who gets to land that final blow.
“You too, Jonas. Although, I must admit that I haven’t heard too much about you.”
“Yes, well. It seems that you and Toby have connected.”
“He needs all the support he can get right now, don’t you think?”
“Of course. Toby has great friends.”
Yeah. Shame about some of his family.
“Well, as you can see, I’m alive,” Toby damn near hisses at his father. If I didn’t already know exactly how he felt about his sperm donor, then I’ve seen all I need, to fully understand his hatred of the man he’s expected to call ‘Dad.’
Suddenly, everything I’ve been through recently with my own father seems to pale in comparison.
So he didn’t know about a stalker that I never even hinted to having? So what, he’s kept secrets? At least he’s never physically hurt me, and I know for a fact that he never would. Or anyone I love.
I study Jonas as he looks down at his son with what I’m sure is fake concern in his eyes. Unlike my father, and Nico’s, who I’ve finally met, Jonas shows no signs of being part of the chase for that scumbag on Sunday night.
“Were you at the party, Jonas?” I ask him, my voice sickly sweet.
