“Things can’t go on as they are. But I’m uncertain how to motivate you to properly settle into your new life. While I’d happily send all your boyfriends to jail, I have learned enough about you to know that such an action wouldn’t crush you but instead, it would bring out that tendency to fight that seems to intrigue my son so much. At best, you’d leave a bloody trail behind you, and I’m not sure I want to deal with the collateral damage nor the bad publicity from either putting you down or hiding you away. At worst, you’d run, and I don’t doubt that my wayward second son would run after you, yet again.”
He waits, but I don’t know what he wants from me.
“You’re marrying into this family, taking a name that I’ve spent my entire life building into an empire of unquestioned power. You will bear my heir, and I imagine you and I will have many nights talking through problems as we raise my grandson, at least until he is old enough to not need a mother anymore. It’s not like I have time to be concerned with neonatal nutrition or proper language acquisition timelines. So, you see, Ms. McElroy, we need a better working arrangement.”
“What do you suggest?” I ask, sensing my continued silence bothers him.
“See, that’s the problem. I don’t know how to control you, not until you bear my heir. At that point, I imagine any threat to your infant would be enough for your compliance.”
“You’d risk your own heir to control me?” I can’t help the words.
He leans back in his chair, turning so he can stare across the expanse of white behind the mansion. “What looks like risk to you looks like discipline to me. I imagine there’s a lot of space between those points and controlling that delta wouldn’t bother me nearly as much as it bothers you. At least if what you’ve said about my treatment of Archie holds true.”
I can’t deny that truth, so I tilt my chin in agreement.
“Until that time, however, I need better leverage. In that vein, I’ll be asking your father to move in with us after the wedding. According to my sources, your parents’ marriage is on the rocks, and he’s the only RSVP from your family. He’s quite excited to walk you down the aisle.”
“You’d take my dad hostage to keep me controlled?”
He doesn’t move, continuing to observe the monochrome night outside. “I will do what I must.”
Taking that as the dismissal it is, I stand, hiding my shaking hands in my skirt.
“Ms. McElroy?” He calls out as I reach the door, and I spin quickly, ready to protect my face, only to find a small smirk on the older man’s face and no projectile in sight. “I look forward to your contributions to the Westerhouse family.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, slipping from the room.
The shivers I’ve been hiding ripple over my skin, and rubbing my arms, I wind through the halls to the blue room.
Tomorrow better go off without a hitch.
I don’t want tocontributeanother day of my life to the Westerhouse family name.
Chapter 51
RJ
The chilly van, the still night, it’s as if the whole world holds its breath while we wait for the storm tomorrow will bring.
I park around the corner from the storage facility, pulling up the list of properties owned by Trips’ dad or his shell corporations. Many of them were registered in lawless parts of the world, the effort to tie them back to the man in question taking most of my energy these last few weeks. The rest I spent trying to squeeze whatever details I can about the girls from the dark web for the cops while putting the finishing touches on the worm I’ll need for tomorrow night.
We were lucky we’d gotten the right number during the visit Mr. Westerhouse made before Thanksgiving—the space holding all the blackmail is a shell company with a single holding—this unit.
But it’s not our only target. We’re hitting all the Westerhouse units, trying to make as big of a splash as we can. In a few short hours, they’ll be empty. He’ll know we’re coming for him. The country cops who hate the rich and entitled will have something tangible to dig into.
And every bit of blackmail will go up in a towering inferno.
I can’t fucking wait.
I also can’t help but glance over at Walker as he clambers into the back of the van. “Ready?” I ask, before handing him a device I built last week. I used the specs I found on an ancient invoice deep in Trip’s dad’s email inbox for a security system that was installed a month after the shell company rented this unit. That system isn’t active at the estate, so I’m confident it will bypass whatever security they find in there.
Jansen throws himself inside with us a moment later. “You’d better be, man. RJ’s got enough to do in the van, so I hope you brought those muscles you’ve been working on. Unless they’re just for show?”
Walker goes to deck Jansen, who slips away with a chuckle. “Stay still and I’ll show you how real they are,” he gripes.
“Which one are we hitting first?” Jansen asks, perching on my desk. I push him off, not sure that it will hold his weight.
I hope we’ve got the time and energy to do all of them. “We’re doing the blackmail first. Look for a directory. He’s organized to a fault—there’s going to be one.”
