“Father,” I say, feeling the sudden need to loosen my top around my lower stomach.
He doesn’t return my greeting, his ice-cold eyes watching me like he has me figured out. “I need you in my office. Now.”
Shit.
Not good.
Now what?
I hesitate, then stiffly get up from behind my desk. “Okay.”
I swallow hard as he holds open the door to my office and I exit. I follow rigidly behind him as he leads me down the corridor, too focused on steadying my breathing to think about what this meeting might be about.
He unlocks his office door, opens it for me, and clicks it shut behind us.
It’s just the two of us in here.
I don’t know why that makes my skin crawl.
Jesus, Lauren, he’s your father!
You shouldn’t be scared of him like that!
But the reality is, I am. Ever since I saw those files, ever since I was almost choked to death in a dark alley, I am scared. And somehow, my dear old father is at the center of it.
I rub my hands over my arms, trying to warm them. The air con buzzes, blowing dry, cold air into the room. A cold shiver runs down my back.
“What’s going on?” I ask, feigning confusion. It’s hard. I can’t even look at him the same anymore. It’s like he’s about to break off a piece of my soul and chew it right in front of me, forcing me to watch. If my suspicions are right, and he is somehow involved in Mom’s death, I don’t think I’ll be able to look at him as my father anymore.
Not that things were ever great between us, but still.
All those small moments I remember from my childhood—me, Mom, and him enjoying pizza on the weekends, driving places as a family of three—everything leads to him standing before me, ready to intimidate his own daughter.
Or worse.
I look into his cold stare now, and something shifts in me. He’s different from how I remember him when I was a kid. When did he become this way? What happened to him along the way?
A new kind of sadness dawns on me, one that buckles my knees.
The sadness then transitions into something else, somewhere between fear and resentment. If he has something to do with Mom’s murder, he could have something to do with mine.
Come on, Lauren.
He won’t do anything at the office.
“Father?” I don’t mean for my voice to sound so small.
“I want to know why you broke into my laptop and accessed top-secret files.”
Shit.
No, double-shit!
I seize up again, this time even more than before. My legs go stiff. I try to loosen the muscles, but it doesn't work. There’s no flexibility in them anymore.
He knows!
How the hell did he find out so fast?
