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Somehow, I feel that he wasn’t, and I pray this meeting of ours isn’t to tell me he was implicated in some way.
I don’t think it’s that. At least, I hope not. With the pace the investigation is moving, I think if Dad were implicated, we’d know by now. Regardless, I’m hoping to broach the subject about what’s going on with the business with him and that he’ll be honest with me.
Witnessing Conrad’s secrets unravel like an Agatha Christie mystery has shown me how we never know who people truly are. Also, that your life can change before you can blink.
Like the fact that Monday is here, and I’m not engaged to Nathan.
There won’t be any announcement going out to the world later, and from the way things are looking, there will be no wedding to worry about.
Nathan will remain in custody, and if there’s evidence to link him to his father’s activities, he’ll receive a similar sentence—prison for averylong time.
While Madison literally broke out the champagne because she thinks God answered her prayers, I’ve been treading softly, because I still don’t know what purpose Knight Grayson served in bringing the truth to light.
That’s if I’m right about him, which my heart tells me I am.
Knight knew who I was right from the start.
The whole restaurant thing was a setup.
For what, though? To make a fool out of me just because he could?
Isn’t that what these billionaire types do, though?
What a complete asshole.
Going to the engagement party to see Nathan and Conrad’s disaster was part of that fiasco too.
I’ve wondered if Knight was watching me after because I never told him I was getting engaged. Maybe he wanted me to witness the terrible fate of a man I was supposed to marry and know who brought that fate to him.
Knight wouldn’t have known that such emotion is totally lost on me.
Nathan might have been in my life since I was twelve, but I don’t care one way or the other about him, especially if he’s guilty.
I purge Knight from my thoughts as I approach Dad’s office.
The door is already open, so I walk in.
Dad is standing by the window, watching the rain fall.
From here, I can already see the worry in his composure. His shoulders have even dropped, as if he’s carrying everyone in the world across the ocean.
It’s not a good sign.
When I reach his desk, he turns to face me, and the first thing I note is how gaunt his face looks. On Saturday, he looked worn down. Now he looks worse.
He looks similar to when Mom died—a shadow of his former self. My nerves spike, and my previous worry of his implication with Conrad comes back.
Please, God, don’t let it be that.
Please.
“Dad?” I say that with a question in my voice, as if I’m checking it’s him.
“Morning, sweet girl.” He steps away from the window and walks over to give me a quick hug. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I search his bloodshot eyes. It’s clear he hasn’t slept. “Areyouokay?” That feels like a rhetorical question, given the fact I can see he’s far from okay.
“I’ve seen better days.” He gives me a clipped nod. “Sit. We have a lot to talk about.”
