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The precious commodity seemed to be slipping away.
“If you’d rather I take all this crap out of here . . .” Patrick swept his hand in the direction of the piles.
I hadn’t exactly acknowledged his theory, and he seemed to have taken my silence as disapproval.
“No. We have to try. Normal might be the key.”
He scrolled through his phone. “The last of the assets Alma owes you are transferred. Can you believe she and that shady financial advisor of hers tried to hide some?”
“You don’t say.” Sarcasm dripped from my voice.
He beamed. “She’s broke.”
“Broke? How is that possible?” Her inheritance alone was enough to last a few lifetimes.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. She had about half of what she did when you married . . . which was what she owed. I hope she and her mother are on good terms because she’s going to need some money.” He tapped his lips. “At least she’ll have a place to live. I have the perfect prison facility picked out for her.”
I waited for the elation of victory to wash over me.
It never came.
All that money was worthless without Penelope. Even with her, it didn’t hold the value I’d placed in it before she was in my life.
Everything important was in this room.
JoJo dozed in the chair by Penelope’s bed. She was exhausted. The lines in her face were more pronounced and her eyes constantly looked worried. And when she slept next to me every night, her rest was fitful.
Some of the pressure in my chest loosened at the sight of her having a moment of peace.
“What do you want to do about her?”
I stared at Whitley. The answer in my head and what should come out of my mouth were two different things.
“We can’t hold her forever.”
“I don’t see why not.” He brushed a piece of lint off his lapel.
Truth be told, I didn’t either.
I twirled my phone in my palm. “Do we have everything we need from her?”
“Everything. Except an apology,” he said bitterly.
“That won’t be coming.” I stared at my phone, tempted to put off the call as long as I could. My gaze pulled toward Penelope. I had to do what she wanted. Since I couldn’t ask her, I had to guess.
I stabbed at Elliott’s contact.
He answered on the second ring.
“Let it go.” I spoke before I could change my mind, referring to Alma as an it in case prying ears were listening.
“Very well.”
I snorted. “You’re not going to try to talk me out of it.”
“I trust you know what you’re doing.”
I slid down in my seat. “That’s more than I can say for myself.”
