The room spins slightly. I grip the edge of the table to steady myself. "You're lying."
Dom steps closer, his voice gentle. "Olivia, your father was respected by everyone. Even my father, who didn’t respect anyone."
"Stop talking about him like you knew him.” I scan my memories for any hint of what they’re saying. Yes he worked long hours, but all detectives do.
I close my eyes, feeling the foundations of my life crumbling. Everything I thought I knew about my father suddenly feels like a lie.
"Who killed him?" I finally ask, opening my eyes to meet Roman's gaze.
"Not La Corona," he answers.
I turn to Dom. “Your father.”
“Normally I might have agreed to the possibility, but like I said, my father liked yours. He had no reason to kill him.”
Roman studies us both. “I feel like I’m in the middle of something I shouldn’t be. I’m going to take off. Let Marco know where we’re at.”
“Coward,” Dom says.
Roman grins. “Hey, I’ve got to get home and back cookies with Angelica. Plus she’s making something special for me to wear at the Winter Festival.” He gives me a wave. “Agent Ricci.”
I don’t respond. When he leaves, I whirl on Dom. "You knew. All this time, you knew about my father and never said anything."
"What was I supposed to say?" Dom's voice remains calm, controlled. "Hey, by the way, that father you idolize? He was on my father's payroll."
"Don't you dare talk about him like that." My hands clench into fists. "You're lying. You're all lying."
Dom steps closer, his expression softening. "Olivia?—"
"No." I back away. "My father was a good cop. He put criminals away. He stood for something."
"That house you grew up in? The college education you're so proud of? The car he bought you for your sixteenth birthday?" Dom's words stab at me like tiny daggers. "How do you think he afforded all that? A cop's salary doesn't stretch that far."
I shake my head, but memories flood in. The yearly vacations we took to Florida. The private horseback riding lessons. I'd always attributed it to my father's careful saving.
"He made good investments," I say weakly.
Dom's laugh is soft, almost sad. "Yeah. He invested in protection. For himself. For you."
My stomach lurches. "That's not true."
"Your father understood something you refuse to see. The world isn't black and white.”
"He sold out," I whisper, the betrayal completely gutting me.
"He survived," Dom counters. "And he made sure you did too."
I sink onto a chair, the fight draining out of me. "Everything I thought I knew about him..."
"Was still true," Dom says, sitting beside me. "He loved you. He was proud of you. He wanted better for you."
A bitter laugh escapes me. "So he made a deal with the devil."
"With my father," Dom corrects. "Who, yes, was probably the devil."
I look at him, really look at him. The man I've been hunting for years. The man I've been sleeping with. The man who apparently knew more about my father than I ever did.
My life, my entire career is built on a foundation of lies.
