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“Dad—”
“And it’s because of him you…” Another coughing fit takes hold. “Your mother will understand why I did this. She won’t like it, but she’ll know,” he says bitterly.
The doctors warned about the paranoia, but some days, it’s so bad it’s hard to watch. They said to try to keep him calm. “Very smoke and mirrors, Dad,” I say. Before I can continue, we’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and my mother enters without waiting to be invited in.
“Santos, we’re going to be late.” She looks at my father, walks over to him, and touches a hand to his cheek. “Sweetheart. Let the nurse give you your morphine and sleep.”
I watch them together. She looks so alive and vital. He looks closer to death than life. There’s only a ten-year difference between them, but what a difference that is when one is sick and the other healthy.
“I’ll be sleeping soon enough,” he tells her and brushes her hand away. “I need to talk to my son. Go.”
She smiles but there’s nothing warm in it. I get it. He’s pushed her and Caius away and she is very protective of Caius. Always has been.
“Mom, I’ll be right there. Caius is downstairs.”
She looks at me, straightens my tie and smiles. “All right. Just another minute though. He needs his strength.”
Dad snorts and watches her leave, watches as she closes the door behind her, and only then turns back to me. “If you forget everything else, remember this one thing. You can only depend on yourself. No one can be trusted. No one. Do you understand, son?”
“You trust me, don’t you?” I want to make light of this, not liking what he’s saying. It’s the meds or the disease talking.
“But you’ll be alone once I’m gone.”
“Dad—”
He starts coughing again, and I call the nurse. She administers the morphine, and Dad settles. Rather than having gone downstairs, Mom is waiting in the hallway, expression unreadable. She watches him before turning to me.
“Come, Santos. We need to attend this event. It’s important.”
I kiss Dad’s forehead, but he’s already asleep. I walk out into the hallway, down the stairs, and out to the SUV. Caius is already inside waiting for us, and the two of them start talking as we head out.
“Aren’t you anxious to see your soon-to-be-fiancée?” Mom asks.
I shift my gaze out the window without answering her.
I haven’t seen Madelena in a full year. She’s eighteen now. I should be putting my ring on her finger, but I didn’t realize I’d be saying goodbye to my father in the middle of all this, and it’s taken all my attention.
I still remember our last meeting in that science lab—still remember every detail of the night, and what I learned from the idiot boy once she was gone.
Mad Elena.
It’s the nickname they’d given her after a rumor was started by her one-time best friend. From what I’d gathered, she’d essentially been shunned by the same idiots who have their fifteen minutes of glory over and done with before they can collect their diploma and toss their graduation cap. The same ones who end up working for you later in life.
But when, as a teenager, you’re in the thick of it, when you’re ostracized for years, friendless for years, that’s not where your head is. And I feel for her.
It didn’t help that she came from two of the most powerful families in Avarice and power breeds enemies. That kind of wealth and influence doesn’t come from above board dealings. Not entirely. And every single member of the high society of this place has skeletons in their closet. The fucking town is full of pariahs.
Ana Hollis, Madelena’s ‘best friend,’ is the daughter of Brendan Hollis, a man Marnix De Léon took down hard. Ana just made Madelena pay the price for it.
No, the irony is not lost on me.
The car slows as we near the gates of Augustine’s, which is set along the cliffs that make Avarice’s landscape so strikingly beautiful.
Security stops our SUV at the gates. The first man sternly asks for identification as he holds onto his clipboard. We’re going to need to get the club up to date. The computer systems they use are beyond old. Before Caius has to open his mouth, a second guard sets a hand on the first one’s shoulder and draws him back.
“Good evening, Mr. Augustine,” he says to me first before acknowledging Caius more casually by his first name and nodding to our mother. I don’t miss the irritation on Caius’s face.
“Evening,” I say. I just want to get this night done.
