AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He grunts, his mouth contorting into a sick expression.
“Yeah, that guy. Well, he’s threatening me and a friend of mine, misusing his power in the security booth.”
“Why the fuck is he working at the school?” My dad is diverting, so I pull him back on point.
“Because he’s a fuckup and got caught smoking pot last year. He has to volunteer hours.”
My dad nods, then flits his hand for me to continue.
“He got video of my friend and me leaving campus after hours, and no, I was not going out to party or anything like that. We went to dinner and then just off campus because sometimes that place is stifling,” I say, filling in the details with a bit of truth and some fabrications before he asks. My dad wasn’t really upset after my accident the way mom was. It was maybe the only time my mother trulyfelt.Of course, she got over it quickly when I wasn’t hurt the way Brooklyn was. What I don’t need right now is my dad doing a deep dive into who I was leaving campus with and why. He doesn’t care that I date, but he’ll want to dissect James and his connections, and he’ll get super critical. He’ll use James as a piece in his game, something to needle me about. I’m done playing on his chess board.
“So, he’s blackmailing you?” He’s fairly familiar with how this works. I know, and I alsodon’t knowthings my father has done.
I lean my head against my shoulder and pull my lips in tight.
“Uhhh, sort of. He wants attention, and me and my friend are in his way,” I say.
“So let him try to pressure you. I’ll just sue his family and get your punishment overturned and ruin his little life. It’s fine, it’s fine.” My dad grabs the TV remote from a fold in his blanket and presses random buttons in an attempt to turn on the television. I grab it from his hand to force him to focus. Plus, I can’t stand watching him fail.
“I’d rather do this more delicately if that’s okay. My friend isn’t used to big fights like you are, and I might have an ace in my pocket,” I say.
My dad’s eyebrows perk up at my mention of an ace. That’s a term he likes, one he uses when he’s in the middle of a messy takeover. There have been times when I was the ace.
“I have some incriminating evidence because my father taught me never to permanently delete anything.” I’m stroking his ego a bit, but it’s true. And that little life advice might come back to save me—and more importantly, James.
“Good girl,” he says, his praise the thing I longed to hear when I did ballet or won the cookie sales contest. Not a Bentley girl, though. No, she gets agood girlfor being good at extortion.
“What do you need from me?” he asks.
This is where my ask gets hard. I lean back and let my shoulders fall as I attempt to exhale and relax. Every muscle on me is tight. My stomach is turning, the bile crawling up my esophagus.
“I need you to ask your lawyer for a letter, one that authenticates what I have and sounds . . . serious.” Showing Toby what I have might be enough, but in case it’s not, I need him to know I’ve gone a step beyond. That I’m prepared. His family won’t want to go down this road with me, and if he can keep what I have from his family, he will.
My father laughs and puts his glasses on then snags the remote from my hand, studying the various buttons until he finds POWER.
“Just call him yourself. It’ll be fine. Everyone at the office knows who you are.” He begins changing channels, stopping on the news. He’s not watching for anything other than the business part, mostly the market. He can’t get away from it, not even in a hospital bed.
Meanwhile, my insides have died a little. I won’t call his lawyer.
“I’d really rather you asked for me. I’m asking for this one thing,” I plead. My voice breaks a little, but my dad doesn’t notice.
“Why?” He flips to a different channel.
I don’t answer, hoping that maybe somewhere in the depth of his mind he’ll recall things. He’s not that blind. I know he’s not. He’s heartless, but blind? No, he sees.
He takes his glasses off and breathes out a frustrated sigh, then looks at me again. He blinks a few times before shaking his head, but then his lips part and he chuckles out an, “Oh.”He chuckles. Hardly the right reaction.
“Morgan, I fired Hague months ago. He’s gone. Probably unemployed,” he says, turning back to the TV and hitting the volume, turning it up.
“You . . . fired him,” I repeat.
How did I not know this? Why didn’t Braden tell me?
“Yeah, yeah. I let him go about a month after that . . . you know,” he says, waving his hand. My mouth is dry, but I know in my gut that this is his way of sayingsexual misconduct.Assaulting his daughter. Crossing a line.He’s uncomfortable saying the words, and maybe because I’m his daughter, or maybe because he’s surrounded by a world filled with people who push and blur those lines all the time. Maybe because deep down he knows he blurs them too.
“You have a new lawyer.” I rephrase, making sure.
“Yeah, Jeremy. Just call the office. Page will put you through.”
