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“You may leave.”
Inessa glances at me standing in the open doorway. She hesitates, perhaps wondering if it’s all right for me to be there, then quietly steps out of the room.
The bed looks large and imposing, engulfing my father’s frail body. The machines by the bed hum softly, and their beeping is the only indication that he’s still alive. I move closer to get a better view, my stomach tying in knots as I stare at him hidden beneath heavy blankets despite the summer heat. My throat tightens, waiting for any sign of life, when his eyes suddenly flutter open.
I catch my breath.
Finally, I’m allowed to speak with my dad alone, and the sight of him ravaged by chemo twists my heart. I know Andrei is doing the right thing by providing treatment, but I can also tell that my father is in pain.
I sit in an armchair close to the bed, resting my hands on my lap. “Dad, are you awake?”
He starts to cough, and I stand immediately, rubbing his back until the coughing fit is over.
“Raise the bed,” he gasps. Once he’s as comfortable as he can be, Dad opens his eyes fully and smiles wanly at me.
“Do you want anything, Dad?”
“I’d like to listen to some music,” he replies. “The nurse doesn’t like my taste. She switches it off whenever I close my eyes, claiming I should get some rest.”
I tell the speaker to play “yacht rock.” Michael McDonald’s “What a Fool Believes” immediately starts to play. I grin morosely at the irony, as if the song is a warning, suggesting I wake up to the facts surrounding me and stop being a dummy.
“That’s better.” His pain seems to lessen as he sighs, pleased to hear his favorite music.
“I know this isn’t what you wanted.” The words aren’t easy to say. “But I hope at least you’re comfortable.”
“I want to die, Paige.” His words hang in the air and attach to me as strongly as my guilt.
“Are you in that much pain, Daddy?” I ask timidly.
“It’s not the pain. It’s the memories. It’s what I know. I want to take it to my grave, but your husband is determined to keep me around.” He spits the wordhusbandout as if it’s a curse.
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault you’re here.”
His laughter startles me. “This has nothing to do with you, Paige.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It started long ago,” he continues. “It wasn’t entirely greed. These people lived like royalty, but I, an honest man, could barely keep a roof over my family’s head. I needed the money to pay rent. And then the car needed repairs. And then I became obsessed with seeing the numbers in my accounts grow.”
Accounts?How much money did he really steal? “But someone did notice, didn’t they?” I ask, eager to learn more.
“Can someone ever have enough money?” he asks with a wry grin. “The answer is no. It’s like a drug. Something you have to possess. Billions that could never be spent in a lifetime. It’s not the things you could buy. It’s the money itself. The power of having more.”
My father’s clouded eyes take me in. Or rather, the obscene diamond on my finger. I place my hand over it, childishly covering my wedding ring, but that action only places my gold rings on my other hand, front and center, on view.
The marriage is fake.
I’ve been a fool. Fooled by my father, and now, my criminal husband. I’m not a queen. I never was. I’m a pawn in the game these two men are playing with my life. Bastards.
“You hid the money, didn’t you, Daddy?” My voice is gentle, hiding the emotions churning inside.
He chuckles softly. “They got some of it back but not all of it. Not by a long shot. You and Emma will have the rest. Your mother would’ve gotten her share if she hadn’t walked away.”
I swallow back my anger. “Momknew where the money was hidden?”
“She didn’t know where, but she wanted me to give it back,” he replies. “She thought doing that would’ve kept us safe, but they would’ve killed me if I returned it. And if I’m dead, God knows what will happen to the three of you. I was a coward then. I didn’t want to die.”
“But now you do.” I say softly.
