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He wanted to kill Alma. And not just in the metaphorical sense. I’d seen the rage in his eyes. Felt it radiating from his every pore.
Whatever that made me, I wasn’t as opposed to the idea as I should’ve been. An eye for an eye wasn’t my motto, but every time I looked at Penelope, saw what Alma had caused . . . the idea wasn’t so abhorrent.
Why aren’t you snatching those papers up and signing?
“What are the conditions?”
He didn’t sound like himself when he spoke. I thought he didn’t care what she received in the settlement. That she could have everything if it meant being done with her.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Whitley said with a cocky smirk.
He set his briefcase on the sofa.
“You know, it’s really hard to be dramatic when I make this stuff look so easy.” He pretended to buff his nails.
“Out with it,” Kane said through his teeth.
“I shouldn’t be toying with you, but I can’t help myself.” His smirk turned into a full-blown smile as his gaze shifted to Penelope. “We might as well have some fun with your old man, right?”
Something about him speaking to her, as if she could hear him . . . as if she were here . . . endeared him to me. Whether Patrick realized it or not, he hadn’t given up on our daughter either.
“Judge Robard insisted that you-know-who”—he flicked his gaze to Penelope again like he didn’t want to speak Alma’s name in front of her—“had to get something.”
The more time I spent with this man, the more I was glad Kane had him in his life. Sure, they were like an old married couple, but he was good for Kane. GoodtoKane.
“I made the point she’s had twenty years of unobstructed access to your bank accounts.” He shrugged. “The ones she knew about anyway.”
“Whitley.”
“Oh come on. You’re not having fun?” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “By the way, an update on how the move went would’ve been nice. I had to text Elliottandentertain Judge Robard.”
He’d spoken the words in jest, though there was an undercurrent of hurt in his tone. He and Marlow had been there for us through this entire ordeal. It meant so much that he was invested in our daughter despite barely knowing her.
“I could hardly concentrate for my wife blowing up my phone wondering how Penelope is.” He shook his phone for emphasis. “She’s having a rough day. Been throwing up all afternoon. But she’s coming by tomorrow so brace yourself. I’m not taking up for you.”
“Is there anything we can do for her?” I asked quietly.
“I’m sure when she sees me she’ll get sick all over again, but at least I can hold her hair.”
A little laugh escaped me. They had such an odd relationship.
“If you’d hurry up, you could get home to her.”
“I’m not in a hurry. When she throws up, I want to throw up. It’s a vicious cycle.” He shuddered, though the lines around his eyes conveyed his concern for Marlow.
Patrick sighed dramatically. “After hours of my fascinating persuasiveness, Judge Robard saw things my way.
“As your prenup states, you both walk away with what you brought to the relationship.” He shook his head. “You really didn’t have much when you married her,” he said ruefully.
“Whitley.” Kane balled his fist.
“I figured you were willing to concede a million bucks especially since she brought to the table about . . . three hundred.”
I wasn’t shocked by the number. Much to our mother’s chagrin, Daddy had set up generous trusts that kicked in on our twenty-third birthdays.
“Can I sign these papers or not?” Kane snatched them off the foot of the bed.
“I don’t know what you’re waiting for. She gets the mil from before you married. You get one fifty . . . oh and you’re an eighth owner of a shipping conglomerate now. I hope you’ll let the qualified people continue running it.”
