“You can’t prove any of this,” Robert says, but his voice lacks conviction now.
I pick up my phone and tap the screen. Robert’s own voice fills the room through the Bluetooth speaker on the table, crystal clear and undeniable.
“Mandy’s clothing company was already failing when I married her. I used it as a front for money laundering. When it became a liability, I transferred the assets to pay off my gambling debts to Grant’s organization.”
Robert’s hand goes white-knuckled on the folder.
“That’s not all,” Donovan says. He pulls out his phone and plays another recording of Robert explaining in cold, calculated detail how he shaped Samantha’s grief into a weapon and pointed her at my family like she was nothing more than a tool.
“We tapped your phone,” I tell him. “Every conversation. Every text. Every call to your contacts at Volkov.”
“Volkov,” Kai says from the screen, and even through the speaker, I hear the dangerous edge in his voice. “You’ve been working with them this entire time. Trying to get inside information on our operations so you could sell it to our biggest competitor.”
Robert closes the folder with shaking hands. “You don’t understand. I had no choice. The debts, the pressure from Volkov’s people, I needed a way?—”
“So you used your stepdaughter,” I cut him off. “You orchestrated her entire relationship with Logan. Fed her lies about her mother. Manipulated her grief for years. All so you could get leverage against my family and sell it to save your own skin.”
“I was protecting her!” Robert’s mask cracks completely. “Grant, you have to understand. The people I owe money to would have killed me. I needed?—”
“You were protecting yourself,” Samantha interrupts, and her voice cuts like ice. “You made me believe the Hales destroyed Mom’s company. Made me think they killed her. Sent me here to ruin them when they never did anything to hurt us.”
“I gave you a purpose,” Robert argues desperately. “After your mother died, you were lost. I gave you something to focus on.”
“You gave me lies.” Samantha stands, and Donovan’s hand moves to her back, steadying her. “Everything I believed for years was built on your manipulation. You didn’t care what it would cost me as long as you got what you wanted.”
Robert turns back to me, trying one last angle. “Grant, we can work something out. I have detailed information on Volkov’s entire operation. Names, locations, shipment routes, everything they’re planning for the next six months. That has to be worth something.”
“It might be,” I agree. “If I trusted a single word that came out of your mouth. But I don’t.”
I lean forward until we’re eye to eye across the table. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Robert. You’re going to sit there and listen very carefully to what my son has to say. And then you’re going to make the smartest decision of your pathetic life.”
Robert looks at Donovan, and I watch the moment he realizes this isn’t a negotiation.
It’s a sentencing.
“Wait.” Robert holds up both hands. “Just wait. Samantha, sweetheart, you have to understand. Your mother would have wanted?—”
Donovan moves faster than I expect. His fist connects with Robert’s jaw with a crack that echoes through the room. Robert’s head snaps to the side, and he topples backward in his chair, crashing to the floor with a grunt.
“Don’t,” Donovan says, standing over him with his fist still clenched. “Don’t you ever mention her mother again.”
Robert touches his jaw, blood trickling from his split lip. He looks up at Donovan with genuine fear in his eyes now, all pretense of control completely gone.
“Get up,” I tell him. “My son has something to say to you.”
38
DONOVAN
Robert’sstill talking when my fist connects with his jaw.
The crack echoes through the room, sharp and satisfying. His head snaps to the side, and he topples backward in his chair, crashing to the floor with a grunt that knocks the air from his lungs.
“Don’t,” I say, standing over him while he clutches his bleeding mouth. “Don’t you ever mention her mother again.”
Robert looks up at me with genuine fear in his eyes now, all his pretense of control shattered along with his lip.
“Get up,” Dad says from across the table, his voice cold and final. “My son has something to say to you.”
