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For years I’ve watched the darkness growing inside our son while Tom’s buried his head in the sand, cutting me off at every turn:it was an accident, Millie. He didn’t mean to. He’s just a kid.
How dare he question my judgement when he’s spent so long wilfully suspendinghis?
‘Felix isplayingyou,’ I say abruptly. ‘You believe him because he looks and sounds like you. But I’m telling you, Tom,he’sthe bad guy in this scenario.’ I slice the apple with quick, angry strokes. ‘And I’m going to prove it.’
chapter 36
millie
The malware I introduced into Felix’s laptop when I was in his office isn’t particularly sophisticated, but it works. A tech expert like Tom would spot the Trojan horse in a nanosecond: there’s a slight but perceptible delay when webpages load and a small icon in the corner of the screen that’s a dead giveaway.
But Felix isn’t looking for it. He’s clearly far too preoccupied: he’s spent the weekend scrolling through a variety of stock market indices and updates, opening multiple windows on his desktop and shuttling back and forth between them. Thanks to the virus I uploaded, I’ve been able to watch his every move on my own computer.
I close my laptop and run upstairs to find Meddie. ‘I’m just going out for a run,’ I say, putting my head around her bedroom door. ‘You all right on your own for a couple of hours?’
She pulls one of her AirPods out. ‘Where’s The Freak?’
‘Don’t call him that. Your father’s taken him to the 9/11 Memorial Exhibition in Earl’s Court. They’ll be back later this afternoon.’
Meddie grimaces as she plugs her AirPod back in. ‘Gross. I bet he gets off on it.’
She’s probably right.
It takes me less than twenty minutes to run to the Glass House. It appears deserted– the blinds are down, and there are no signs of life. But I know Felix is in there: when I check the malware feed on my phone, I see he’s still active on his computer. Stacey’s staying with her friend in Exeter, so I know he’s on his own.
I ring the doorbell, but Felix doesn’t come to the door. I give it a few minutes, and try again.
Still nothing. I walk around the side of the house to Felix’s office. The blinds are down there, too, and even when I press my face to the glass and cup my hands around my eyes, it’s impossible to see inside.
I bang on the window. ‘Felix! I know you’re in there!’
No response.
‘We need to talk,’ I shout. ‘I’m not going anywhere till you open the door.’
This time, I hear movement and the scrape of his chair on the expensive bamboo flooring. I return to the front of the house, and, a few moments later, the heavy glass door opens.
Felix looks like he hasn’t bathed or slept in a week. He’s sporting at least two days’ worth of grey stubble, and he must have lost ten pounds since I saw him at the Hurlingham Club just seven days ago. The blades of his cheekbones are so sharp they could cut glass.
‘Why are you here?’ he asks wearily.
‘Take a wild guess.’
He sighs, and then steps back with an exaggerated flourish. ‘You know the way.’
I head upstairs to the kitchen. It looks exactly as you’d expect the kitchen of a man whose wife has left him to look, down to the pizza boxes littering the kitchen island and the plates and dirty coffee cups piled haphazardly in the sink.
I seat myself at one of the kitchen stools and put my bag on the counter, tamping down my anger and plastering a pleasant expression on my face.Regardless of my skin-crawling antipathy for the man, I have to focus on what I need from this encounter: Felix’s agreement to sell me the Glass House. Aside from the fact that it’smyhouse, it’s also the only way Stacey can be free of him.
‘Let’s make this easy,’ I say cordially. ‘I want this house. You need the money. What do I have to do to make it happen?’
Felix lets out a bark of laughter. ‘Jesus Christ. You don’t give up, do you?’
‘Any decent lawyer could ring-fence the proceeds of sale,’ I persist. ‘You haven’t been charged with any crime. Now’s the perfect—’
I break off. The expression in Felix’s eyes isn’t anger or even irritation. It’spity.
‘What?’ I demand.
