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“You see, it’s so much easier to crack a family from the inside out, much more enjoyable to watch. It wasn’t your father who took Ruby from you, Connor. But I quite liked seeing it all play out. The way your hate for him simmered until it boiled over. Much better than doing the deed myself.”
“The deed?” I know what he’s referring to, but I need to hear all of this. I need him to explain himself.
“Killing him.”
William shifts from right behind me, coming into my peripheral vision. “What the fuck? I knew something was off about that,” he says.
A little of his spittle lands on the arm of my tux, and I stare down at it. He needs to back up.
“Of course there was something odd, my dear man,” Viktor says, pulling his hand from Wryn’s head and stepping away.
Her shoulders slump down as she falls slightly, and I step forward.
“Uh-uh.” Viktor stops me. “Why was no killer ever found? It’s because it was Connor, in the study, with his own bare hands. His little wife here helped. Or maybe she was the catalyst. A realBonnie and Clydetype couple.”
“How? How did you figure it out?”
“My darling daughter, Sylvia, was there. They say we men don’t ever notice the womenfolk, as they live right underneath our noses, and I suppose they are right to an extent. We do tend to overlook them. But I have found usefulness for them. You didn’t see her, but she saw. She watched as you and your new wife murdered your father in cold blood. And it was cold blood. That’s all we men have in this life.”
Fuck, my head is spinning.
“Your father started it all by trying to become something he wasn’t. He was a businessman—successful, no doubt—but when he moved in on what was mine, I had to take action. It began small, but the tiny little actions mounted up to be large, affecting my business. So, I hit him back where it would hurt.”
Viktor grins at me. It seems his lips stretch on for miles, the smile never-ending. It’s a grotesque look, and I want to turn away, but I don’t. He wants me to ask, to beg for the story, but I won’t. No matter how much I want to know what went down, why things were the way were between my father and him, I won’t beg.
But I can tell that Viktor is itching to put on a show here, so it doesn’t look like I’ll have to. I let my gaze drift to Wryn, who is still kneeling on the floor. Her bare nipple is pricked tight in the cold air, making me want to give her my jacket. I want to cover her, comfort her. But I also want to know exactly what Viktor meant when he said she was going through my things.
The irrational part of me wants to make excuses for her, to defend her, but the rational part knows that there’s at least some truth to it. How else would Viktor have known what was happening?
Wryn was in my office as I laid out the plans for Dahlia’s to the other kids, so she knew the vague details. But my mind can’t comprehend her sharing those with Viktor and betraying me.
“I was there that day. I watched your mother fold in on herself on that stoop. I heard you scream like the child you were,” Viktor says, pulling my attention back to him.
My blood runs cold. It’s like everything starts to fade in and out of the room.
What the hell is he talking about? The day my mother died? The day I tried to hold her stomach together with my bare hands until Miss Lulah shooed me away? He was there? Did he watch us leave and drive away in the car Miss Lulah had called, trying to save her life?
“And I watched as you determined it was your father and as your initial childlike wonder of him turned to hate over the years. You couldn’t ever prove it, could you? There was always a reason for that.”
Wryn’s mouth opens, a cry coming out. I stare at her. I don’t feel anything right now. She led my mother’s murderer here. She’s why I don’t have that reason to hate my father anymore.
The tears soaking through her blindfold don’t make me ache like they did before.
“So, then your father devoted his life to taking me down. He stole my daughter, made promises to her, took her away from me. He started to appear at every turn, taking my men, my business ideas, my money. It was escalating to the point that I was going to intervene, but you”—he points at me—“and Wryn here beat me to it. It was so much better this way, don’t you think?”
I furrow my brow, trying to make sense of it.
Viktor killed my mom? It wasn’t Bertrand? And he retaliated by taking Viktor’s daughter?
“I didn’t know,” Wryn says on a whisper.
I step toward her. Bending down, I lift the blindfold from her eyes. I need to see into them; they are the windows to the soul after all.
“I didn’t know,” she says again. “Francesca told me she had a message from Ruby, one I never recieved. I thought she was alive.”
“Oh, it was too easy,” Viktor says. “Convincing her that I had information on her dear little friend. Letting her believe that I could help her. She was eating out of the palm of my hand.”
Wryn’s tearful eyes bore into mine. “I thought I was helping.”
