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“Oh, but he is,” Bastian answers and slides another document toward me. This one is an offer from Vladimir Markovich for the sale of Sunset Cove for three hundred million.
Fucking hell …
Three. Hundred. Million.I’ve never even seen that figure written down before in my life.
But, three hundred million for something I consider priceless?
Am I crazy to think that?
In the grand scheme of things, I have nothing, but realistically, it’s not like that money would be mine.
There at the bottom of the offer is Knight’s name and signature with the agreement that Sunset Cove will be sold seven months from the date of the offer, pending all the terms and conditions are met. There’s nothing mentioned about me. It’s like I don’t exist when it comes to this one asset that was so precious to my mother.
“How can he do this without my permission?” I can barely form the words as they scramble in my brain. “I still own ten percent.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, your ten percent means fuck all. With the provision of your mother’s letter, when your father agreed to Knight’s contract, he also gave authorization to act on your behalf inallcircumstances. Meaning he could sell without your knowledge, but the sale wouldn’t be finalized until the six months of your marriage was up.”
My God.
How could Knight do this to me?
He would have known I would never agree to sell Sunset Cove foranything.
“Now, how about we get to all the ways Knight blackmailed your father into doing this?” Bastian proceeds to take out a wad of printouts from the envelope and spreads them out on the desk.
“This is evidence of your father stealing millions from his clients and the Italian mafia to save his company. But instead of using the money for the intended purposes, he gambled it away and drank himself to sickness. Rehab barely helped him get back on his feet.”
My stomach plummets to the earth, pulling my lungs inside out.
My head feels so light from the sudden loss of air that my knees give and I have to grab on to the edge of the desk to keep myself from falling over.
Dad …
No.
Dad?My father stealing millions from his clients.
And themafia? Then getting addicted to gambling and alcohol?
Jesus.
“That can’t be true.”
With an I’m-taking-pleasure-in-your-misery smile on his fucking face, Bastian pulls out document after document after document from the envelope. All evidence of the bomb he just dropped on me.
There are bank statements showing the debts owed by Wright Investments, bank statements from offshore accounts in Switzerland showing millions, then going down to zero in the space of a month, medical reports showing Dad’s stay at various clinics, and details of medications for depression and therapy bills. And there is a numerous amount of emails between Dad and men with Italian names.
There’s a lot to read through, but I’ve seen enough to get the picture of what happened.
I can’t even be mad at my father for anything because it was clear he was floundering, drowning in sorrow, debt, and grief. If anything, I feel awful I wasn’t there for him.
“Knight threatened to expose your father.” Bastian runs his fingers over the documents. “If he had, your father would have lost everything, but worst of all, the mafia would have killed him, and you too.”
My breath becomes staccato sips of air. I feel like such a fool.
This is pure evil, and I can’t believe we’re talking about the same man I fell for.
But once again, I’m the fool. I fell so deeply into the web of lies and deceit Knight set for me that I didn’t even know I was trapped.
