by Lindsey Iler
“I’ll give you one guess.” She rolls her eyes, wincing from the pain. “Seems he was biding his time before retaliating against me for our little stunt.”
“I’ll fucking kill him,” I hiss. Madison isn’t mine, but I’ll be damned if her getting involved with my bullshit will get her or any of them hurt.
“Don’t worry. I paid him a visit,” Byron announces. Every one of us gapes at him, shock and awe on our faces. “If you’re wondering, I kept him alive. I thought it would be far more fun to watch his safe little world crumble after today.”
“You did that for me?” Madison tilts her head, staring him directly in his eyes. Byron shifts, uncomfortable with the attention. “Thank you.”
“It’s no big deal.” Byron winks at Palmer across the table. Byron is proof each of us is capable of the impossible task of evolving. We aren’t what people think we are. At least not fully.
“So, what do you need from us today?” Marek asks, drawing the attention away from Byron.
“I think this is something we need to handle on our own.” I check with Delaney to get her reaction. She nods, understanding what I’m saying.
“Like hell.” Marek scoots out of his chair and leans over the table towards me. “We’re in this together. I don’t give a flying fuck what you say. Shit, we’ll sit in the car, but we’ll be there either way.”
“Listen,” Madison begins but stops to take a deep breath. “Tripp didn’t do this because of the shit at the football field. He came to find me at the downtown Sky Tech building. He heard I was doing an internship there and didn’t want me too close. Before he could drag me out of the room by my hair, I’d already read some documents.”
“What kind of documents?” I ask.
“Sky Technology International is a security company that dabbles in a lot of arenas. Your father has managed to get his hands on your sisters’ inheritance through some sort of loophole. Right now, it all seems to still be in place, but at any time he could make a transfer. Your mom was smart enough to hide it fairly well, it seems, but he used my father to dig up its whereabouts.”
“Yeah, my grandmother set up a little nest egg for each of us.”
“It’s more than a nest egg, Breaker.” Madison’s eyes avoid contact with mine. What has her so nervous?
“How big are we talking?”
“There’s a hundred million in principal alone waiting for each of you in a bank account.”
“Son of a bitch!” I bark.
“Also, there’s been surveillance on the house, your aunt, and both your sisters.”
“Why?”
“My guess is he’s gathering information to use to get his hands on that money. I had Dixon do some digging for me,” Madison says.
“He’s broke, like flat broke,” Dixon announces. “I’m sorry, man.”
“That’s why the sudden interest in them,” I reason out loud. “This got so much messier than I’d thought. The foundation was an easy solution. I’m the rightful owner. He can’t touch it. That cuts off all three of our families from the resources they need to cover their tracks.”
“Let’s think this out rationally, okay?” Byron says, grabbing our attention. “It seems like there’s only one real solution.”
“What’s that?” Delaney asks, clearly as confused as I am.
“Go see him. Both of you. I have a plan.” Byron leaves it at that.
“Byron? Will this plan work?” I ask. “I need this to work. My sisters’ happiness and safety are on the line. The revenge I deserve for what they did to my mom is on the line.”
“I got you, but I also need you to be clueless when the time comes.” He smacks me on the shoulder, daring me to question him, but I have no reason to. Byron’s tactics are typically fucked in nature, but for once, whatever he has up his sleeve, I’m rolling with it.
“Are we blindly trusting Byron?” Delaney asks.
“I heard that.” He flips Delaney off behind his back as he leaves the kitchen, making her laugh.
An hour later, I hand my key to the valet attendant. Meeting somewhere neutral was my only stipulation. I chose the country club, and since my father didn’t answer my call, I arranged the time with his secretary. I haven’t stepped foot in here since I was young, but it doesn’t matter. Our family name is plastered on the side of the building. My grandfather founded the Davenport Country Club in the fifties. The vast golf course spans as far as the eye can see, and the amenities are endless.
I fidget with the tie around my neck, hating dressing up when I’m not in my school uniform. Delaney reaches over and loosens it enough to make it feel less like a chokehold. I grab her hand, admiring the flowy floral dress she’s wearing. It fits her body perfectly, hugging her in all the right places.
“You ready for this?” I ask.
“To face the man who convinced my father to murder your mom?” Her throat jumps as she swallows. “Not a chance in hell. Am I ready for this all to be behind us? Absolutely.”
At the hostess station, a twenty-something girl smiles at me, baring her teeth.
“Put away the whites, girl.” Delaney slides between us. “He’s taken. We’re here to meet Mr. Davenport.”
At the mention of my last name, her eyes brighten. “Right this way.”
She guides us to an area by the window, near the middle of the wall as I’d requested. “When Mr. Davenport arrives, I’ll bring him to the table.”
“Thank you,” I say, grabbing the glass of water and guzzling half of the contents.
The hostess leaves us but returns a few seconds later with my father trailing behind her.
“Here you go, sir,” she says, motioning to the open seat across from Delaney and me.
My father inspects his surroundings, noticing the two empty chairs. He assumes my sisters are in the bathroom or checking out the views of the lake. He’s dead wrong.
“Where are your sisters?” he questions.
“What? No hello, Daddy?” I laugh humorlessly. “Did you actually think I’d bring them to see you today?”
“Yeah, that’s sort of the whole point, Barrett. What kind of game are you playing?”
“I’m in high school. I’m not capable of playing games, Father.”
“Don’t play coy with me. I know what kind of situation you have up at that school.” At the mention of Glass Heart Academy, his eyes slip to Delaney. “Now, who’s the pretty girl?”
“Don’t look at her.” I slam my fist on the table, making the glasses and china clatter.
“Is he always this protective, sweetheart, or is this because of me?” He grazes his finger over Delaney’s hand that’s resting on the table. She jerks away, disgust blaringly obvious on her face. “Why’d you bring her, if you didn’t think I’d look her way?”
“Mr. Davenport,” she says coldly. “I’m Delaney Chambers. You know my father, if I’m correct.”
This is one time I wish I could snap a photo, capturing the memory so I can reminisce when I need a good laugh. My father isn’t one to get rattled, but the girl sitting across from him has managed to do just that.
“I see.” He glares at me. “Barrett, care to explain what’s going on?”
“I didn’t come here to talk. I came here to listen, so how about you explain to me what happened to Mom on that bridge?” I lean forward, grabbing the steak knife beside his plate. I shove the blade into the white tablecloth, shredding the delicate fabric. “Cat got your tongue, Dad?”
“I don’t know what this is, but I will not stand for it.” His chair screeches against the tile floor.
“Bailing, like you always do, huh?” I let him get a little further away before I shout, “Care to explain to these fine people why you had your wife killed?”
Silence takes over the dining room, every eye on us. My father is on me in a second, bending over the table to put his face directly in mine. “Listen here, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“That glorious education you pay for at
Glass Heart Academy has taught me a couple of things. The most important is that you trust those who have earned it. The second, and almost as important, is that lies always reach out of their graves to reveal themselves. Your grave has been dug up.”
“I can explain.”
“Please do. I’d love to hear why you had my girlfriend’s father kill your wife, my mother, right in front of us.”
“You weren’t supposed to be there.” His fist slams down, shattering a glass and cutting his hand. “Dammit.” He grabs a white cloth napkin, covers his hand, and walks away.
The hostess hurries to his aid, wrapping his hand in a bandage. Once he’s cleaned up, he stalks over to the table. His face is red, seething with pent-up anger.
“Buckle up. You’re about to meet the real Mr. Davenport,” I whisper to Delaney.
She doesn’t seem fazed by the warning. Having lived through what she has, looking in the eyes of the evil that has harmed her, I suspect it will take a lot to move the earth beneath her.
This man’s entire life has been set up for him. Most people who don’t have to work for what they have can’t be trusted. Due to my blessings, my grandparents’ old wealth, I could very well end up like my father.
“Power is a fickle thing. On one hand, it makes you invincible, and on the other, it can rip away everything you hold dear.” I tilt my head to the side, enjoying the fact that this man has no idea what’s about to hit him. “What do you hold dearest, Dad?”
Clarity crosses his face. He knows I know.
“What do you want? What will it cost?” He sits down, wrestling with his sport coat, brushing his hands over the fabric. He’s rattled, right where I prefer him.
“The fact that you think you can buy my, rather, our silence is comical.”
A commotion across the room draws our attention away from what’s conspiring at our table. Byron and Dixon are glowering at the hostess, daring her to argue or try to stop their war path.
Halfway through the dining room, Byron stops at a table and snatches a piece of bread from a basket, takes a bite, then tosses it against an older gentleman’s chest. He saunters over with a confidence I recognize. He’s got a fuck-them-all mentality, and he’s about to shove a bat covered in barbed wire straight up my father’s ass.
“Mr. Davenport.” Byron grins, and my father glares at him in annoyance. “You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”
“Hello, Mr. Chambers,” the hostess says when Delaney’s father enters.
“Right on time.” Dixon laughs.
My father leans to the side to look, but Byron blocks him.
“Let’s focus up here, shall we? The way I see it, you have a couple of important but simple decisions to make, Mr. Davenport.”
“Who the hell are you?” My father tries to get to his feet.
Dixon holds him down. “Not so fast.”
“I’ll ask you one more time, who the hell are you?”
“We’re the product of parents like you, who think we don’t need to be monitored or cared for. We’re the discarded children of the rich who the world believes will be complacent because we can jump on Daddy’s jet, and we have unlimited spending on our black cards.” Dixon bends down, placing his face right in my father’s, and laughs. “News flash, daddy dearest, the lack of love and support has manifested itself in children who’ve become too smart for their own good. These children are fighting back.”
“Am I supposed to be scared?” My father rolls his eyes.
“You aren’t now, but you will be.” Dixon grins, winking at Delaney.
“Sit down, Mr. Chambers.” Byron grabs his shoulder and shoves him into the chair beside my father.
“Delaney?” Mr. Chambers says, misplaced hurt and anger loud and clear in his tone. The audacity of this man.
“You killed my mother.” I glare at the man across the table who killed the most wonderful thing in my life then, but also had a hand in creating the most wonderful thing in my life now. “Isn’t that right, Dad?” I narrow my eyes on my father. “You gave him the order, didn’t you?”
“I’ll do whatever you want.” My father’s hands tremble as he holds them up in defense.
“The walls are closing in, aren’t they?” I jump to my feet and loom at him over the table. “Your chest is tightening because the breaths you’re taking are strangling you. I imagine that’s how she felt on that bridge as she was falling, or should I say, was shoved?”
“You don’t understand,” my father pleads.
“Greed is a fickle bitch, Mr. Chambers and Mr. Davenport.” Loving the part he’s playing, Byron circles the table, picking up the fancy silverware and tossing it in front of them. The theatrics are half the fun for him. “On one hand, it sends a shot of adrenaline through you. You get to be the kid with the best and most expensive toys. On the other, there’s always someone bigger, or in your case smarter, who comes along and stomps on the fragile toy you cherish so dearly.”
“What do you want from us? Money?” Mr. Chambers asks. Leave it to him to believe he can pay for his sins.
“Money?” Byron’s sinister cackle echoes through the dining room. “This mother fucker is dead broke because he put all his fragile little eggs in one basket of young girls, and after we’re done with you, I suspect your money won’t mean shit.”
“Delaney, stop this at once.” Mr. Chambers’ fist crashes into the table, rattling our place settings.
“Don’t you dare look at her,” I scold.
“Don’t speak to me like that, Father.” Delaney’s head is hung low.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Chambers growls.
Delaney lifts her head, piercing him with her cold-as-iceberg blue eyes. It’s a strange contrast to what I’m used to looking into. “You are not allowed to speak to me that way. You aren’t allowed to speak to me ever again.”
“You’re going to take these hoodlums’ side, these bottom dwellers?” He feigns hurt, knowing damn well he’s going to have to scramble to keep a little resemblance of his life. It will be useless, though. I plan on taking everything from him.
“Let’s all calm down, okay?” My father holds out his hands, preparing to negotiate. “I think we can come up with some sort of agreement.”
My eyes find Delaney’s.
“Listen to her story.” My chest may as well split open, giving everything inside of me the chance to spill out on this table, painting it red.
“Excuse me.” His eyebrows pinch together.
“I want you to hear a story from the mouth of someone who got out before it was too late. Your little operation is built on the backs of young girls. Listen to her.” I wrap my hand around Delaney’s.
My dad looks at Delaney expectantly. “Okay.”
“I will not sit here and listen to this.” Mr. Chambers pushes his chair back.
“You fucking will, or else I’ll announce to everyone here”—Byron’s voice raises a little louder, giving Mr. Chambers no choice but to sit his ass down—“how you think it’s appropriate to sell young girls to the highest bidder?” He glances around the room. “Actually, if I were to take a guess, some of these lovely patrons are more than likely your associates. It would be a shame to interrupt their family meals to let them know what kind of dirt bag is sleeping under the same roof as them.”
“Okay, hush!” Mr. Chambers demands, which causes Byron’s jaw to clench tighter. If I gave him permission, he’d bury Mr. Chambers under this table. “Tell your story, Delaney, if you must.”
As she speaks, I only half listen. Reliving the horror of what she’s experienced isn’t something I actively try to do. I’ve felt the fear, seen it firsthand in her eyes. I’ve been in the room where her body was nearly taken away from her. I’ve picked up the pieces, broken a few of my own, and somehow, we’ve made it out, alive, together. Her telling her story isn’t for me to hear again.
I’m looking for one thing.
Remorse. Humanity. A sense of responsibility, at the very least.
Her father sits stoic, unmoved, and completely detached. There’s no reaching out to his daughter to apologize. There’s no fatherly instinct on display.
Mine is no better. A man with two daughters, listening to what Delaney went through, should at least feel a tug at what little heart strings remain. We aren’t born heartless. We’re created. We’re molded to be the way we are. Some of us are lucky enough to be coddled with love and affection, teaching us that there are things in this world worth protecting.
These men don’t understand a single thing about that. They weren’t there. She was.
“Breaker took the knife from my hand. Blood was streaming down my fingers from where I stabbed Declan. Breaker demanded I close my eyes, but I didn’t listen to him.” She retells the story as if she didn’t live it. “Declan tried to wrestle the blade from Breaker, and when he couldn’t, he lunged for the easy target. Me. He grabbed my ankles and yanked me to the end of the bed. He didn’t care if Breaker was there to watch him because the kind of rage and entitlement your operation creates is ugly and dark. It’s seething with vile thoughts and behaviors because you’ve given them the opportunity to commit the crimes. You gave them a safe space, but what about my safe space, huh? What about every girl you plan to shuffle through the foundation? You plaster your face in all the news articles like you’re a saint when you’re nothing but the devil.”
“That’s a riveting story, doll, but what happened to you is none of my problem.” Seeing my father rise, carefree and without a second thought, fills my vision with red. Mr. Chambers has the decency to look embarrassed.
“She didn’t get to the best part!” I holler, determined to warn him against taking another step. “He ripped her dress more, and you know what I did after that, Dad?” At my question, he eyes me with exasperation. I’m taking up too much of his time. “I burrowed that knife into his chest until he stopped moving. Don’t think for a second I’m going to let you walk out of this country club untouched. I may have hated Declan Dumas, but I promise you, I hate you far more.”
My father, the man who made me, looks directly at me with no emotion. I should feel something. Sad, maybe. All that remains is blind anger and disappointment.
