I leave the half-eaten plate of food, my appetite long gone, and find Owen standing off to Andrews.
“Calm down,” Andrews says, holding up his hands.
“That’s not going to work, is it?” I interrupt, hoping to dispel whatever war path Owen is on.
“You took advantage of her, took her off the streets, and turned her into a fucking weapon when she was just a child!”
“Teenager.” I correct.
“Yes, I did,” Andrews says unapologetically.
“You know he took advantage of you?” Owen asks, glancing across from his position at the bottom of the grand marble staircase.
“Maybe.” I shrug, leaning against the doorframe. I thought we’d moved past this.
“Maybe,” he mutters, tutting, and turns his attention back to Andrews. “You’re a piece of shit.”
“And I don’t pretend not to be,” Andrews replies calmly. “I find people who are at their absolute lowest. I take them in, I support them, I give them an education, I train them. You may see that as taking advantage of them. But I see it as giving them a lifeline, a second chance. We’re not so different, you and I, Owen.”
“I’m nothing like you,” he spits, hands balling into a fist at his sides.
“Let me ask you something. Why are you a politician?” Andrews, who is standing at the top of the stairs, takes a few steps down. When his knees are at Owen’s eye level, he takes a seat.
“Because I want to make a difference.”
“Exactly.” Andrews snaps his fingers. “You want to make a difference to the people like you and Lucy. Those children who suffer, those very children who fall through the gaps in our so-called system and find themselves in prison, or worse yet, on the street…starving. It’s noble, Owen.”
“Don’t belittle me.”
He holds his hands up again. “I’m not. I’m being genuine, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. Better to paint me as the enemy whilst the person you’re really pissed at is yourself.”
I kick off the door frame, knowing that Andrews has hit the nail on the head, and it will most likely cause Owen to blow a gasket.
Another one.
Owen recoils back, and if he had something to throw at Andrews, I think he would. “You don’t fucking know anything about me.”
“Really?” Andrews asks, meeting Owen’s furious gaze. “You really want to pull that thread?”
“Reading the information collated from your fucking analysts doesn’t mean you know me.”
“Maybe not, but I know people. I know what drives them, I know their fears, I know what makes them tick. And you, Owen King, you say that you’re different. Aiming to create a better future for those the corrupt system has forgotten about. But let’s not kid ourselves to how you found yourself in the position you are in.”
“What’s he talking about?” I ask.
“Come on little one, don’t be naïve,” Andrews says as I stand next to Owen, who glances quickly at me before turning his attention back to Andrews. “You know, people who climb as quickly as Owen must have someone rich backing them. What makes you think Owen would be any different?”
“Luca Knight?” I ask, putting two and two together. “That’s why he sent it to you. Really, Owen?” I snort disbelievingly. “We are standing in the middle of a government fucking conspiracy with enough evidence to bring down the full cabinet, and what, your plan was to replace it with another corrupt arsehole, you?”
“Lucy.”
I hold up my hand, as an emotion I’m all too familiar with washes over me.
Disappointment.
I press my lips together and glance away, stepping back.
“You have become the very thing I despise. You stand there, spouting how you’re different. You try to save me from Andrews, the person who fucking saved me. When you walked away.”
