“They were still pulling strings.”
“Looks that way. A final insurance policy. If Tripp talked, he was dead either way.”
I drag a hand down my face.
“Clean it up.”
“Already working on it.”
I end the call and stare out at the city. The lights blur together. The Duvalls didn’t just kill my father. They poisoned everything they touched on the way down.
And now, finally, the city exhales.
The only problem is, I don’t.
TWENTY-FIVE
Coco
Garden District Mansions:Home to grand antebellum mansions with intricate gardens, the Garden District was originally developed for Americans who moved to New Orleans post-Louisiana Purchase.
The stale airin my father’s study is heavier tonight than usual. It presses in, thick with things neither of us has ever said out loud, and the weight of decisions I can’t keep dodging. The scent of leather and old books hangs in the room, familiar enough to steady me even as I prepare to fracture everything it represents.
My father sits behind his desk, his expression carefully neutral, but his posture betrays him. His fingers drum against the polished wood, slow and deliberate, like he’s waiting to see how badly I’m about to disappoint him.
I stop just inside the door, my hands clenched at my sides. Light from the landscaping outside filters through the drawn curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. Theystretch toward me, accusatory, inescapable. I draw in a breath, already knowing there’s no version of this conversation that ends gently.
“I’ve made my decision.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. “And?”
“And I’m choosing Ridge,” I say. The words come out steady, even as my stomach knots. “You’re forcing me into this, and I hate you for that. But if you’re making me choose, it’s him.”
Silence settles between us, dense enough to lean against. Then he leans back in his chair and exhales through his nose.
“You’re throwing away your family for a man like him,” he says. “Do you even understand what you’re doing, Coco?”
“I understand exactly what I’m doing,” I snap, even though doubt flickers at the edges. “I’m standing up for myself. For once. And I love him, whether you understand it or not.”
He shakes his head slowly, a humorless sound escaping him. “Love. That’s what you think this is. You’ve known him for three weeks. Three. And in that time, he’s taken you, pulled you into his world, and ended two lives without hesitation. That’s the man you’re willing to sacrifice everything for?”
The words land hard. I flinch, but I stay where I am.
“You talk like you’re different,” I say. “Like you haven’t done the same things. Like you didn’t raise me inside this world. What kind of man did you think I would choose when this is the only reality I’ve ever been shown?”
His jaw tightens. For the first time, the control cracks.
“I wanted better for you,” he says, sharp now. “I wanted you to have a life beyond this mess. Instead, you chose a man who mirrors everything I tried to keep fromyou. From what I’ve seen, from all the evidence, he’s worse than me.”
“Maybe he isn’t better than you,” I shoot back, my voice unsteady but unyielding. “But he isn’t worse. And you don’t get to judge him like you’re some kind of moral authority.”
His hands slam down on the desk. The sound ricochets through the room, and my pulse spikes.
“Don’t speak to me that way.”
I draw a breath, forcing it to slow as my heartbeat thunders in my ears.
“You surrounded me with men like Ridge my entire life,” I say. “You taught me who holds power and who doesn’t. And now you’re angry that I fell in love with exactly what you raised me to understand. What do you think people see when they look at you? Or your sons?”
