He was already walking past me, each step heavy and fast, jacket brushing against his side as he fixed his cuff.
“Wait—”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even turn.
The elevator dinged, and he stepped in, pressing the button as if he couldn’t stand still another second.
The doors started to close, and for a fraction of a moment, he looked up. Our eyes met. There was so much in that look, anger, guilt, something else I couldn’t name—but it vanished as the doors sealed shut.
The silence after was loud.
Honey padded out from the corner, tail twitching anxiously, tiny head tilting toward the now closed elevator.
I sighed and crouched down, running my fingers through her fur.
“Yeah,” I whispered, heart sinking, “me too.”
Whatever he was going to do… it wasn’t going to end quietly. But I just hope that he’d be okay.
Chapter Forty-Four
Joshua
The engine roared under my grip, the kind of sound that rattled your bones when you were too far gone to care.
The city blurred past me, Christmas lights, kids crossing, red lights turning green, and all I could see was that fucking headline burned into my brain.
John Lockhart Donates to Reopen The Sofia Home for Children.
Sofia.
Her name.
My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. The phone was pressed between my shoulder and ear, and Aunt Claire’s voice filled the car, trying to sound calm even though she knew me too well.
“Joshua, slow down—”
“I’m not slowing down,” I bit out. “Tell me you didn’t agree to this. Tell me you didn’t let that bastard—”
“Joshua.” She sighed, that steady tone she always used when I was a kid and too angry to breathe. “He’s already here. Cameras. Reporters. Donations. It’s happening, sweetheart.”
“Bullshit.”
My hand slammed against the steering wheel. The car swerved slightly before I corrected it. “He’s using her name toclean his image. My mother’s name. He doesn’t get to touch her legacy. He didn’t even come to the funeral.”
“Joshua, listen to me—”
“I own that place!” I snapped. “You manage it; I signed it to you because you actually give a damn, but I own it. I don’t need his stupid money or his fake generosity.”
There was a pause. I could hear her moving, probably stepping away from the press noise. “He’s here for five minutes of cameras, and then he’ll be gone. Don’t make a scene. You’ll only make it worse.”
“Make it worse?” I laughed under my breath, but it came out dark, hollow. “He already did. He made it worse the second he opened his mouth.”
“Joshua—”
“I’m almost there.”
“Joshua, don’t—”
