“I could’ve, but then it wouldn’t be fun listening to you try to make up a story and avoid asking for my help,” Liam chortles, obviously amused with himself. “Anyway, yes. I know about it. I know the old man has had his head up his arse for a while. I heard he’s doing some major overhauls on his security staff. I figured it was to keep him safe from his daughter. Delilah’s a force to be reckoned with. Fuck, he should know, he’s the one who raised her to be like that.”
“What do you know about the embezzling?” I keep the subject on point, and Liam grumbles illegibly.
“Everything? Or most of it. I know Delilah caught the discrepancies and fired the accountant that had been doing the actual embezzling. Now her father is scrambling because everything’s about to be out in the open. It’s honestly quite a show.” Bemusement thickens his tone. “I’m not exactly keen on the internal shite, myself. Delilah had a meeting. I know about that. Don’t know what happened during it, though. At least not yet, my contact hasn’t had their check-in today.”
“You know everything! What the fuck, Liam? How do you know all of this?” I’m both impressed and pissed. Pissed because this directly affects me, specifically because it involves my girlfriend. “Why didn’t you hint that you knew? Delilah is right in the midst of this bloody mess.”
“Yeah, she is,” Liam replies blandly. I’m stunned and angry because that’s all he has to say. “I get that you want to help, but what can you really do by yourself? The guy’s in the hole for I don’t even know how much. It’s been going on longer than Delilah’s even been alive, I think. Ever since the beginning. I think it’s ironic that he got caught by his own daughter and is shocked she’s taking charge. If you ask me the old man’s trying to dig an escape hole.”
“He keeps trying to block her,” I grind through clenched teeth. “He keeps trying to stop her from interfering or making this right.”
“Of course, he is,” Liam scoffs harshly. “He’s ignoring the fact that he’s old as fuck and only good for shitting and complaining. He’s gonna die before any legal stuff gets resolved. That only leaves Delilah to clean up the mess and take the fall, and I’m sure you know this by now, cousin, but I’ll say it anyways. Cormac Quigley is one of the most pretentious old bats in Northern Ireland. This is only the surface of the corruption he’s caused.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“You should be. It’s a mess, Keenan.” I cover my mouth at Liam’s admission. “What you should do is tell her to get the fuck off that sinking ship, her pride be damned. She’ll ruin her life before it really even starts if she gets caught up in this shite.”
Liam’s right. As much as I hate he is, he’s right. I won’t let Delilah ruin her life when she can do so much good in this world. I need to think of something, some way to help pin this all on her father, or a way to get her out of it.
In the meantime, maybe I can talk to Liam and see who his informant is. I’d prefer to know anyone who’s on our side. Obviously, he has an ally in Knitted Hearts or someone who works with the charity quite often. The question is who?
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
DELILAH
Isit back in my chair, and an exhausted sigh passes through my lips. My eyes sting from the bright glare of my computer screen, and I rub them with the back of my palms. Flinging my head back, I swish in my chair from side to side, my knees hitting the sides of my desk. My mind chugs along like a train struggling to get up a mountain, and it feels like the paperwork is growing every moment.
I find myself looking for a distraction, so I grab my phone, but there are no new texts. Sitting up in my chair, I straighten my shoulders as reluctance oozes over me. My calendar’s empty today, but I know sitting in my office is only going to drive me insane. Knitted Hearts is in crisis, quietly, and requires all my focus . . . but that’s why it seems to be so hard to do so.
Turning my chair side to side, I debate taking an early lunch to gather my thoughts somewhere else. My office is stifling now—a reminder of what I can lose. My face heats at the mere thought of it, actually, and I grip the edge of the desk tightly. I can’t believe my father put me in a position like this. It’s infuriating, and I doubt it will get better.
My grumbling and anger are getting me nowhere, though. I know it. Stewing in my own irritation is only helpless. And one thing I’m not is helpless. I grab my phone off my desk and navigate to Delaney’s contact before hesitating. Gnawing on my inner cheek thoughtfully, I debate whether or not I should do this.
To: Delaney
Do you have a moment to talk face-to-face?
I hope this isn’t a mistake. Maybe I shouldn’t. Doubt clouds my mind, and my inner demons come crawling up to the surface. Maybe I should drop a hint to one of the hiring managers. If this mess gets out, Delaney may get hurt by the fallout if she’s connected with me.
But I can’t cower forever worried about what will happen if, or when, this debacle breaks. If my father’s thievery is discovered, it’ll be the end. Not just the charity, but for everything. Keenan’s words from the other night rattle my brain.
I can just hope no one ever finds out about the theft . . . and maybe stop my father from stealing from the charity in the future.
Or I can try to right the books, which is nearly impossible at the moment. Fuck, I shouldn’t even be trying to cover shit up, but part of me feels like I need to as his daughter. He took from children, though, so how would that be forgivable? Can I even forgive him?
My gaze slides to the computer screen. The spreadsheet details the immense amount of work I’d have to do to right this wrong, if I want to.
To save myself, I have to sacrifice my father. I would have to audit him, as owner of Knitted Hearts, to get that money back. It’s not like he doesn’t have enough of the stuff. There’s no reason to steal more money, but greed isn’t defined by logic. Fuck, he makes so much money with his clothing lines and stores. I can’t understand why he’d do this to the kids. Especially not when he made such a public outcry for Northern Ireland to help contribute to Knitted Hearts.
Greed is greed. My father wants everything he’s earned and everything he hasn’t. Bitterness sours my tongue as I stare at the computer screen. A little bit here and there, and suddenly, my father has millions of euros.
The beneficiaries he steals from aren’t innocent of greed, either, but Knitted Hearts is a charity. We allocate funds to help people at the bottom end of the chain. The very people who suffer from the horde of wealth. Those who are down on their luck and just need a little kindness and a helping hand. We’re supposed to be doing something good, but ever since I found out about this, I’ve not only felt so sick, but I feel like Knitted Hearts is nothing but a scam. I want to believe we’ve helped so many children, and while we have helped some, what my father’s responsible for has made me doubt everything I do.
I scowl as my phone vibrates insistently in my palm. My head snaps down, and I gasp in surprise as Delaney’s name flashes on the screen. “Delaney, hey! I wasn’t expecting you to call.”
“Delilah,” she sounds a little breathless, “you’re one to talk! I’m the one who wasn’t expecting you to text me.”
Delaney’s cheerful but winded voice warms my chest, and I smile as I slump back in my chair, looking up at the ceiling. “What’s up, Delaney? Are you busy?”
