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I’d returned alone, my mother killed in a crash. But I’d never believed the reports. My gut told me he had something to do with her death. As hard as I’d tried, I hadn’t been able to pin her murder on him. But one day I would. So help me God. I was still alive for a reason, and I was determined to find out what that was.
He’d rarely talked about her, finally acting as if she’d never existed. One day I would learn the truth.
I doubted that would happen today. This was a turning point. I was certain of it.
Something was very wrong.
Carmine Rathbone didn’t have a decent bone in his body as far as I was concerned. He was a con man, someone not to be trusted. Today, he wore a smile as if he’d just won the Mega-millions lottery, only he’d consider that chump change given his worth was well over two hundred million dollars. But he’d been antsy, his stock dropping. I was no business major, but it was obvious he’d lost millions.
I’d continued to dig and would do so until I found justice for my mother.
He needed my cash. I was certain of it. Without interference, it would be in my hands in three months. By the look on his face alone, I could tell he was worried.
I was leery, on edge, which hopefully I’d find the opportunity to take out on my father.
Be smart about this.
“Come. Have a seat,” he told me the moment he ushered me into his office.
As I usually did when I arrived at the house I’d grown up in, I wrapped my fingers around my locket, sliding it back and forth on the gold chain. Almost instantly, my father noticed my actions, scowling as he did every time I toyed with my only piece of jewelry that had ever mattered.
He hissed in disgust, and I was surprised I didn’t get my usual sermon about my nervous tic. Little did he know I’d been doing it on purpose for years because it reminded him of what we’d lost. No, what he’d tossed aside like garbage.
Who he’d murdered.
That was something I could never forgive him for. After I’d gotten older, I’d searched for years for evidence, finding nothing useful. At least until recently. A trip to the mountains would be my present after graduation, to find the source of a gift I received a few years before. The postmark had been from Missoula, Montana with no return address. The answers were there.
Even if it meant derailing my career for a little while, I wouldn’t find peace until I knew exactly what happened and why I’d been sent her picture and a locket.
“Sit down, Amelie. I don’t want to tell you again.” My, how his slightly pleasant tone had crashed into darkness, and in record time.
I hadn’t changed before racing over. I was painfully aware he was annoyed with my attire, holey jeans and a worn tee shirt. If he had his way, I’d be living the glamorous life of the vice president of his company, a single suit costing more than what I’d paid for my economy car. That would allow him to have full control over me, which would never happen.
My friends asked why I continued to endure his stranglehold over me. The answer was as screwed up as my life had become. The money he handed over was barely enough to get by, the soaring costs of surviving in Chicago getting outrageous. He held the key to a fortune that he’d dangled over my head since I understood the meaning of the words ‘trust fund.’ Did that make me greedy? Maybe so, but in my mind, I was owed the millions of dollars for having to put up with his bullshit.
And because technically, it belonged to my mother.
“What is it, Daddy dearest?”
He gritted his teeth, another sign my ugliness was already wearing on him.
I eased into a seat opposite his Herman Miller desk, offering a sweet smile, but I had more butterflies than usual.
My father had something up his sleeve. I was certain of it.
It was barely two o’clock in the afternoon yet he took the time to pour a single finger of scotch, of course not bothering to ask me if I’d care to join him. Then again, this wasn’t a social call.
When he finally sat down, his actions were more formal than usual. He took a sip, swirling the liquor in his glass as he studied me, amusement replacing aggravation.
His stall tactic put me further on the edge. In response I crossed my legs, placing my ankle on my knee, a gesture that always got on his nerves. I was twenty-five, a semester shy of graduating with honors from the University of Illinois, becoming a doctor of veterinary medicine and I was acting like an impetuous ten-year-old.
However, it was the only way I could tolerate his holier than thou attitude.
“Amelie. I’ve tolerated your childish desires for as long as possible.”
“My childish desires?” Other than working my butt off between classes and waiting on drunks, the only hobby I had was my photography. I’d won a few awards, which had driven another wedge between us. He believed the hobby to be frivolous, a detriment to the Rathbone name.
He drummed his fingers on the wooden surface, never blinking as he stared at me. While he always made me uncomfortable, today my skin itched from head to toe. Why did I have a feeling two of his security guards were planning on carting me off to some unknown location, forcing me to disappear just like my mother had so long ago?
