“Michelle.”
His voice slithered through the phone, the same as I remembered—low, taunting, carrying that sick edge of amusement, like this was some twisted game he was playing and I was just a pawn.
“Sperm donor.”I gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white, my gaze locked on the door like he might burst through at any second. The air in my apartment felt thick, suffocating, like the walls were closing in, trapping me with him all over again.
“How lovely to hear your voice after all these years.”
“Don’t be a brat.”
I clenched my jaw so hard it ached. His tone was mocking, condescending, the same way it had been when I was ten years old, crying over a broken toy he had thrown against the wall just to shut me up.
“What do you want?” My voice was flat, void of emotion, but my stomach churned violently. “You had me followed, so it must be important.”
There was a brief pause, like he hadn’t expected me to cut straight to the point.
“Why is it that you never visited me in jail?”
I let out a hollow laugh, sharp and cruel, my grip tightening on the phone. “Let’s forgo the chat where we pretend to care about each other.” The silence that followed was thick, and I could hear the way his breath hitched slightly. Guess he didn’t realize I grew up.
“Is it money? Because I don’t have any.”
His response came with a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You might be a little bitch, but you have more balls than your worthless brother.”
A muffled voice echoed in the background—Victor.
Of course he was with him.
“I need twenty K.”
The number made my stomach lurch. Twenty thousand dollars. That wasn’t just a favor—that was desperation. That was a man who had burned through every resource and was now clawing for whatever was left.
I snorted, shaking my head even though he couldn’t see me. “Did the guards hit you too hard in the ear? I don’t have money.”
“You might not, dear, but Brooks Madsen does, and word on the street is you’re fucking him.”
My breath caught.
Brooks.
The nausea crept up my throat so fast I thought I might throw up. My fingers trembled around the phone, and I curled them into a fist, willing my voice to stay steady.
“Leave him out of this.”
“Oh, protective.” His laugh was slow and deliberate, each note dragging over my skin like a blade. “Is this love? How precious.”
My father, the man who had never protected me, the man who had never cared, was using the one thing I cared about against me.
“How I enjoy my free time is my business, and that’s all he is. You had your hookers and mistresses somehow, and I’m allowed to see whoever I want. But I will not rob him or steal from him. Understood?” My voice was sharp, edged with an anger that burned through my fear. “I’d like to remain the one member of our family who isn’t a piece of shit.”
His silence stretched just long enough to make my pulse spike.
“You have a week.”
The words sent a cold shiver through me. One week. For what? To come up with money I didn’t have? To somehow stop him from coming after Brooks?
“Or what?” My voice was lethal, but my hands trembled against my will. “Going to have Victor break in and assault me again?”
There was a pause—a heavy, loaded pause—before he spoke again, something in his tone shifting. “He did what?”
