"This has never been about control," my father tries again to get me to see it his way.
"It doesn't matter anymore. You want to keep your secrets? Go ahead, keep every one of them. This is my home now."
My father opens his mouth then closes it again. For once, he has nothing to say.Good.
I turn away from him and head back toward the van. Each step feels heavier than the last, but I keep moving. I hear Sydney say something to him in hushed tones, but I'm already too far away to make out the words. The crunch of gravel follows me across the empty driveway to where the van sits waiting, and I've never felt so alone.
Just how he wants it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
TRIGGER
Adoor slamming followed by my father's raised voice, saying, "I didn't say you could come in," has my hands pausing on the manila folders I was rifling through in pursuit of property lines.
Who the hell has him all riled up now?
"We need to talk, and if I wait for an invite, I'll be six feet underground." Warrick's voice is tight.
I could announce myself, but doing so would be counterproductive to the other reason I stopped by today: find out what my father knows about the Fairfields. When I arrived, he was in the stables with Fisher and London, going over records for the next auction in Lexington, so I stopped in the house first.
"Well, get on with it, then. I ain't got all day," my father says, already exhausted by his presence alone.
"You need to help end this marriage," Warrick demands.
"That ain't gonna happen, so if that's all you came here for?—"
"Was it you?" Warrick cuts him off, his footsteps suddenly sharp against the hardwood. "Did you send the Miller girl to my party?"
I press my back against the wall. Wait a second. If Warrick is asking my dad about Cassidy, that must mean he didn't put her up to that lie. Which also means Asha jumped to a very wrong conclusion, one that only puts more distance between her and Warrick.But if it wasn't him, who? And why would he think my father would do something like that?
"If you continue to push me, you're not going to like it when I push back. Maybe I can't touch your land, but I have other ways of bringing men to their knees," Warrick threatens.
I take three steps toward the door, my fists clenching, ready to give him a piece of my own mind. He doesn't get to keep fucking over the people I love. But my father's response stops me cold.
"I thought you were here to talk, not sling empty threats. Maya's probably rollin' over in her grave watchin' what's become of?—"
"Keep my wife's name out of your mouth," Warrick's voice explodes across the room.
Heavy footfalls echo off the floors as he starts pacing.
"I knew it was you," Warrick continues. "You're trying to take Sydney, just like you tried to take Maya, but this time the gloves are off. Maya's not here to defend you and change my mind."
Take Maya? My stomach drops. Is that what all this hate is about? My father and Warrick loved the same woman?
Something slaps onto a surface—papers, maybe—and my father asks, "What the hell is that?"
"You started this war," Warrick grinds out. "First, by meeting with my wife and trying to get her to change her mind. Then you sent your son to Ridgewood, knowing it was where we sent our daughter to keep her safe—safe from you. And now this…" his voice drops lower. "You let him find that lease, you let him plant the seeds in her head, just like you did Maya. You hate that women don't willing choose you first. Trigger's mother despisedyou so much that she went as far as to hide an entire pregnancy from you and then put your son up for adoption just to keep him away from you. And then, Maya chose me, a man with colored skin, no money or title...a bastard. You can't?—"
"Enough!" my father shouts, and I even startle. My father rarely raises his voice. Even when he's livid, his words will sting, but he delivers them evenly. "You have no idea how wrong you are. I'm not in the habit of telling my business, because it's mine. You have no right to it, but maybe I'll accomplish something your wife never could, and perhaps you'll hear it for the truth that it is." I hear him shift, and I imagine him facing Warrick head-on. "Trigger's mother was a young teen mom who made a mistake. Her mistake cost me missing out on the first five years of my son's life, but you should thank her for making it, because if I didn't know what it felt like to miss out on his life, I wouldn't be entertaining this conversation now."
"Please, do spare me your sob story." Warrick's words are clipped, dismissive. "I don't give a damn."
"And that right there is why you're losin' your daughter." My father's voice sharpens like a blade. "This ain't got nothin' to do with you and me, and you know it. You've kept too much from her, and now it's catchin' up with you."
He's hit the nail on the head. That's exactly why Asha has pulled away. She's tired of being lied to. The question is, what lies is Warrick keeping?
"I'm only here to warn you." Warrick's footsteps move closer to the door and closer to the wall concealing me. "That folder is just the beginning. Keep coming after me, Hale, and I'll make certain you regret it. One more stunt like the other night and all bets are off."
