He doesn’t know.
For a moment, I almost laughed. The audacity of him pretending to care, pretending like the actions of his other disaster of a child suddenly mattered.
“Yeah, your son did a number on me. Be proud.”
Through the receiver, I heard a loud thump, followed by Victor’s muffled cursing. My father had hit him.
A small, dark part of me was glad. But I would rather die than say it out loud.
I exhaled sharply, pressing my fingertips against my temples as if I could physically push the stress away. “Don’t act like you care about me, father. It’s a waste of both our time.”
“One week or we’ll go after him.”
My stomach dropped through the floor.
My throat tightened to the point of pain.
The desperation clawed its way through me, flooding every inch of my body with fear. I had prepared for this moment, knew it was coming the second I saw that note, but nothing could have prepared me for the way my hands shook uncontrollably, how my mind felt like it was splintering into a million useless thoughts at once.
Brooks. They would go after Brooks.
And I would not let that happen.
I begged and pleaded in silence, borrowing time, making promises to whatever higher power existed that I would find a way to keep him safe. I could lose everything else.
But I would not let them touch him.
“We aren’t seeing each other anymore, okay?” The lie came fast, my voice clipped and cold, even as my heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest. “I ended it last night. I can’t seem to have a real relationship—wonder why that is? Must have something to do with my wonderful, loving parents.”
My father scoffed. “I need twenty thousand, Shellie.”
“Don’t fucking call me that.” I closed my eyes, swallowing the rage clawing its way up my throat. “I don’t have it, and if you or Victor show up at my place again, I will call the cops.”
“You friendly with them again? How cute. I thought you’d never trust those fucks after they refused to believe your innocence.”
The jab was calculated, meant to cut me in half. I exhaled sharply, willing myself to not react.
His voice lowered, the humor gone. “One week, Shellie. And trust me, there is more than one way to hurt someone. Learned a bit in jail.”
My pulse thundered in my ears, my vision blurring at the edges.
“Listen, bitch,” he snapped. “I know about his precious mother. It would be a shame if something happened to her, hm? One week.”
Then he hung up.
The silence that followed was deafening.
My body moved before my brain could process it. I hurled my phone across the room, the device hitting the couch with a dull thud. My fists clenched as a scream lodged in my throat, unable to escape.
Then the sobs started, violent and unrelenting.
I barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up, my entire body trembling so hard my legs nearly gave out.
Threatening me was one thing.
But Brooks?
His mother?
