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Chapter 60
Paige
I rush into the ER, past the nurses’ station, desperate to find my father. A young nurse stops my frantic search and calmly diverts my pending meltdown. As she escorts me to his room, she tells me what has happened, some of which I already know.
“We messaged Dr. Kraft.” She pauses, debating what to say next. “I don’t think your father will be leaving here. You may need to talk to a social worker.”
I nod. I already knew the outcome, but it’s different when someone says it aloud.
She continues. “Visiting hours don’t apply to the ER. But we’re working on having him admitted to palliative care.”
A lump sticks in my throat, and I can’t answer her. This is it, but I’m not ready to accept it. I have to face the fact that my father won’t be coming home again. The overhead light is dim in his small hospital room, and he sleeps in a bed, a blanket tucked around his frail body, surrounded by flashing equipment.
Tubes are connected to his arms, and oxygen is in his nose. Dad’s mouth hangs slack while he sleeps. Tears fill my eyes, and I choke back a sob. It’s coming. I knew it. But I didn’t want to face it. He doesn’t know I’m here, but I sit by his bed and take his hand in mine. It’s so cold. I sit there alone and wait.
I decide to call Emma. She better come now.
I rummage through my purse to discover that my phone is gone. Damn, I left it on the bed before I snuck out. Fuck. My head is only with me because it’s attached to my neck. Dad’s phone sits on the table beside his bed. I need a phone, so I’ll use his until I can get mine. I shove it into my jeans pocket as his eyes gradually open.
“Paige?” He looks at me. “Sweetie, you’re here.”
I nod, proud that nothing could keep me away. Not even Andrei. “Yes, Daddy. I’m going to stay with you. The nurse says you’ll be admitted, and we’ll see what they recommend.”
He tries to smile but winces in pain. “I’m not going to make it. Paige, I’m glad you’re here. I have something I must tell you.”
I place my hand on his arm to soothe him. “Daddy, why don’t you try and rest?”
“I stole,” he says.
My hand freezes on his arm. “What?”
“I stole from my employer.” He pauses to catch his breath. “I have to tell you before it’s too late.”
I hold my purse against my stomach. I have a terrible feeling that I don’t want to hear this. “You should rest, Daddy.”
“When I worked as an accountant, I stole. The Bratvas. I stole money from them.”
What?
My body turns to ice.
“The Bratvas?”
Dad turns his head on his pillow to look at me. “I did their books. They’d come in with plastic bags filled with money, and it was my job to count it. I had to make sure the math was right before everyone got their cut. But it was bags of money, sweetheart. Sometimes they’d bring in trash bags crammed with bills. Sometimes the numbers weren’t even. I just evened it out and put the extra in my pocket.”
The ringing in my head competes with his words. “The Bratvas, Daddy?”
A tear springs from his eye and trails slowly down his saggy cheek, but I don’t touch him. I can’t wipe it away because I’m slowly going into shock.
“I was a fool.” His voice cracks. “I got greedy. A few hundred goes missing, and nobody cares. But a few million … somebody was going to start looking … Someone was always going to start looking.”
“A fewmillion?” I gawk, my head spinning at his confession.
“I got found out by an enforcer,” he continues. “He figured it out, and he shook me down. He threatened me—he’d let me live, but he would hurt my family if I didn’t pay him off. I gave him a few thousand, but he knew I had more.”
I stare out the door at an orderly walking by. “Who is this man?”
“He’s dead now. Died of natural causes.” Dad laughs at the irony, and then his tone changes. “I should’ve died, not your mother. Your mother put up with so much. She tried to help, but what could she do? All those men… All because of me.”
