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Then it clicks. “You asked him for money.”
Archie nods, confirming my theory. “A loan, a raise, an advance—weighted against a salary cut if that’s what it took. I only wanted twenty-five thousand at the time. Twenty-five thousand meant nothing to a man like Ludwig Zakharov.”
“A penny meant everything to my father. He’d bleed you dry for the change in your pocket.”
“I thought he would make an exception for me,” Archie whispers. “I had always been one of his most loyalvors.”
I smile darkly. “You thought he would be grateful.”
“When you say it out loud, it sounds foolish,” Archie mumbles. “But as I said, I was desperate at the time. Fiona had just been diagnosed. I was still paying off her student loans, taking care of her parents’ nursing home bills. I had the girls to provide for.”
“So he turned you down, and you went running to the other side.”
“I didn’t make the decision lightly. I knew the risk I was taking.”
“And it seemed worth it to you?”
He meets my eyes. “The question was not whether or not it was worth it; the question was whether or notshewas worth it.”
I want to fault him for thinking that way. I can’t.
And I hate that I can’t.
“You may think I’m a fool. And a traitor. And I very well may be all those things. But first and foremost, I was Fiona Theron’s husband, and I will never apologize for that. She was my entire world.”
The grief paints his face dark. The downturned corners of his mouth look weighed down by something heavier than time, heavier than gravity.
Losing his wife killed most of him.
Losing his daughters will kill anything that’s left.
“I was in too deep by the time you took over. I had thrown my lot into the Bellasio clan’s fire and there was no turning back. I had to continue playing the mole in order to protect myself and my family. But, I want you to know: there were secrets I never betrayed, deals I feigned ignorance on.”
“And Benedict believed you?”
“I told him I was a low-levelvor. That I didn’t have access to all the secrets. Just enough to be worth his while. Just enough to wet his tongue and keep you safe.” He clears his throat. “If it helps, I’m not proud of it. I never was.”
“Of course it doesn’t help, Archie,” I snarl. “Because for all your good intentions, for all your remorse and regret, you couldn’t protect your family. Your wife is dead, killed by the same men you betrayed me for. Your daughters turned against you, and your days are very numbered.”
He nods again, already resigned to whatever fate has in store for him. “No, I never expected to get away with it. So…what’s it going to be? Will I be the victim of a hit-and-run? A random shooting? A sudden heart attack?”
I have to give it to the man—he doesn’t look afraid of death. He just seems nervous over what he’s leaving behind.
I’ve only been a father for all of five minutes.
I fucking hate with every fiber of my being how much it makes me actually understand him.
“You choose.”
He shrugs. “Death is death. I don’t care about how I get there. So long as it doesn’t hurt my daughters. Or my grandson.”
“Your deathisgoing to hurt them. That’s unavoidable. No one can do anything about that. Not even me.”
Archie only shrugs. “The moment I realized Fiona was gone, I died with her. The only thing that keeps me going is that boy out there.” His eyes flicker over the window where Adam has abandoned the swing and is now climbing the tree. “Funny, really…that you of all people should be the father of my grandson.”
“For what it’s worth…” I sigh heavily. This is about as close as I’m ever going to get to confiding in him as if we were family. “Nothing went the way I wanted it to. Not by a long shot.”
His eyes harden, but a second later, the door opens and Taylor slinks in, looking nervous. “Everything alright in here?”
