Page 72 of Cracked Open


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I crack a smile. “Haley?”

“Yeah, babes?”

“If you let him die, I’ll kill you.” I force a laugh through the tears and wipe my eyes again.

“I know.” She runs towards a pair of doors that are for staff only, and Terry walks towards me. He grabs my wrists and guides me into a chair, then sits down next to me.

Rubbing his hands along his thighs, he clears his throat. “Mom’s upset about Dom. She’ll come around to you.”

“I don’t really care if she does.”

“When Dom was undercover, I was a senior in high school. He missed a lot of milestones for our family. When he came home, he was…” Terry trails off, his elbow propped on his thigh as he pinches his bottom lip in deep thought.

After a moment, he sighs. “Dom was different. He’d always been a happy kid. When he came home, he was sadder. Quieter. It only lasted for a bit, but he was never the same. He always was extra trying to be happy.

“One night, he told me about you. Of course, I didn’t know then that this woman was you. But he told me about a woman he’d met while undercover. He said she was young and beautiful, and good for his soul while he was away. He said he fucked up, and all he wanted to do was to fix the lies he’d told you, but that he couldn’t. I never thought he’d recover from that. When I set you up with him on that blind date, I felt like you were what he needed to finally move on from that place. Now, I see it was something bigger than that. So, don’t worry about Mom. She will come around.”

I sniffle away some tears. “Terry. The only thing I’m worried about is seeing him alive again.”

My phone buzzes as I sit in the conference room on the sixth level of the hospital, and my stomach turns. Having to deal with Jones and Matthew while Dom is in surgery is not how I’d originally planned this. I’d planned to meet Jones, separately, at his house, and lay all my cards on the table to convince him to control the heir of his fortune.

But this will have to do.

I pull my phone from my purse and read an update on Dom. Haley finished pulling all the stray fragments from his torso and has moved onto his shoulder.

I’m not supposed to be getting these updates, and as far as Alice Black is concerned. She called in the chief of trauma and ordered him to cut me out. Haley didn’t give a shit, though, so she assigned a nurse she trusted to update me.She could totally get fired, and lose her license, but she doesn't give a shit. Or maybe it's that she loves me more than the career she's built.

It’s one of the things I love about Haley. She doesn’t care about the consequences, she does what she wants.

Jones opens the conference room door, and steps inside with Matthew trailing behind. I made sure to dress appropriately for this meeting, wearing an all-white dress suit, despite the Sacramento rain.

Jones is dressed in his usual dark suit, and Matt is in jeans and a t-shirt. The old man looks nothing but when he is dressed for business. You’d never know he was 83 with a smoker’s cough that somehow hasn’t manifested into lung cancer.

“Andrea, my beautiful granddaughter.”

I stand and embrace him in a warm hug, despite the circumstances. “Thank you for coming here.”

He nods, and sits across from me, and Matt takes a seat beside him.

“How is the officer doing?” Jones asks, though I know he doesn’t truly care. He hates that I left Matt. Jones always felt I controlled Matt’s wild side, stopped him from being a shithead, and now I think he is right. Matt has definitely shown his true colors to me. Though, I’m sure Lisa is the devil sitting on his shoulder, egging him on.

“Still in surgery. Still fighting for his life.” I clear my throat, and pick up the thick folder I’ve brought with me and hand it over to Jones. “As you’re aware, Matthew has decided to hire a lawyer to take Charlotte from me. I’m sure you approved this. I think you thought it would force me to take him back, if it was the only way I could see my daughter.”

Jones takes the folder and opens it. He scans the contents. There is evidence of the drunk-driving incident he paid to cover up and evidence of many other things Jones has swept under the carpet for my husband. I’ve also included photos of my injuries from Matthews’s last visit, and I’ve included a detailed report of how Matthew burst into my home and attacked me.

Jones flicks to the back and reads the frequent large payments to an online poker site. Jones’ glances at Matt, then his eyes go back to the page.

I don’t have to say anything. Jones knows what this all means, but I say the words aloud, anyway. “I have encrypted files, ready to be emailed to the press. They’ll expose your grandson. And should anything happen to me, I have channels in place to have the files sent, anyway.” I squirm in my seat. I feel like I’m in a mafia story, worrying that the villain will off me for outing him.

Jones closes the file. “I underestimated you, Andrea. Matthew came to me, and I decided to see if he was able to do this on his own. Call it a test, if you please. He’ll drop the case, and things will continue as normal.”

“Grandpa-" Matthew starts, but Jones raises a finger, and he shuts up.

Jones continues to stare at me, though he speaks to Matthew. “I also heard Lisa is causing problems for your family. Either get her in check, Matthew, or leave her. Andrea is the mother of your child. She is the woman you chose to bed, and you fucked it all up. Fix it, before I do it for you.”

Jones stands, eyes still trained on me. “I’m sorry you couldn’t make it work with Matthew. I hope this new man makes you happy, but I want you to know Charlotte is my priority, as I am sure she is yours. If this new man of yours hurts her-” he trails off, and an empty threat drifts through the air.

I nod as Jones heads for the door. As the door closes, and we’re left alone, Matt finally speaks up. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I let my anger get the better of me.”

“I don’t care about your bullshit apology, Matthew. What I care about is my family. Now, Sunday brunches continue, with or without Lisa present. With or without you present, I still get her every Sunday for as long as she wants to be there, no matter if it’s your day.”

“I’ll be there. Every other weekend, like it’s always been.”

I grab my purse and place the strap over my shoulder. “And we’re swapping holidays. You’ll get her Thanksgiving this year, and I’ll get Christmas.”

“Done,” he says.

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