I stare at him, angerflaring hot under my skin.Is he kidding me?“I told you. I don’t know where it is,” I bite out.
Damian leans in, eyes dark, jaw set. “Maybe it went into that bakery.”
I laugh, sharp and humorless. “You can make up any story you want about me, asshole. It doesn’t make it true.”
His fingers flex against his knee, tension coiling between us, pulling tighter and tighter.
Cody sighs. “This is getting nowhere.”
Bridger lets out a hard breath and kicks the coffee table.
From the kitchen, Delilah hums under her breath. Then, without looking up from her painting, she says, "Maybe you two should dance it out again."
Four voices snap at once. "No!"
Delilah shrugs, dipping her brush into a soft wash of green. “It worked last time.”
Bridger groans, standing up, stretching his arms. "We need a real plan."
Damian’s phone rings, sharp and sudden. He pushes off the couch, pulling it from his pocket and answering without hesitation. “Yeah,” he says, voice low, already on edge. I watch as he paces, his free hand running over his jaw, then through his hair. His movements grow sharper, more agitated. Whatever he’s hearing isn’t good.
I tear my eyes away from him and turn toward Bridger and Cody, my stomach tight. “I swear to God, I never knew about any money. I really have no idea what’s happening.”
Cody watches me carefully. Then, after a long pause, he speaks. “Your father stole that five hundred grand from our mother.” His voice is flat. He’s not bluffing.
I blink. “What?”
Bridger flops back down on the couch. “You might as well tell her.”
“He pretended to like her,” Cody says, clearing his throat. “Took her to dinner a few times, made her feel special. And then hebanked on the fact that she was losing her memoryand had her empty her bank account. Then he disappeared.”
What. The. Fuck. I shake my head frantically. “No. No, that can’t be right.”
Cody doesn’t let me finish. “I think Joel was in on it with him. He’s our father’s friend, the only one who knows mom’s condition. I don’t get along with him, and I think he was probably planning this for a while. Our dad is getting out of jailsoon.” He leans forward, eyes locked on mine. “My father thinks the money is his. Vick stole it. We don’t know if we can trust Joel. But the truth? It’s all Delilah’s money. And it’s what we need to put her in a memory care facility.”
I can’t breathe.
I look at Delilah at the kitchen table, painting quietly, oblivious to everything unraveling around her. Tears burn my eyes. I can’t hold them back. It’s no wonder Damian doesn’t trust me. My father is pure evil.
Damian’s voice snaps through the air. “Save your tears for people who’ll believe them.”
I flinch and turn toward his voice. He’s staring at me, his expressionhard, unforgiving, merciless.
“We’re out of time,” he says. His voice is tight, panicbouncing behind his eyes. “That was Neve.”
Bridger’s head snaps up at that. “Neve?”
Damian nods. “She just saw Joel with a few heavily armed guys piling into cars.” His jaw ticks. “Who wants to bet they’re headed this way?”
Bridger rises from the couch so fast it scrapes against the floor. “Wait, Joel’s in Nevada already?” His eyes cut to Cody. “How the hell did he get here so fast? We only got back a few hours ago.”
Damian’s gaze flits to me, his voice razor-sharp. “He gave her until tomorrow.”
Bridger swears under his breath and strides toward the window. “Maybe he got the truth out of Vick, since the money isn’t where he said it would be.”
“Fuck,” Cody hisses. “I don’t trust any of this.”
My stomach churns, nausea rising so fast I have to press a hand against my mouth.My father stole that money from Delilah. He took advantage of a woman whocouldn’t even remember what he was doing to her and drained her entire life’ssavings.Why?Why would he go this far? Could he really do something like that? And if he had that much money, why the hell did he show up at my bakery back in Jersey, looking for more? Something isn’t adding up.
