“Because the next person to be informed is Noelle,” he sighs, looking at the ceiling. He’s so worried about Mom that it hurts to watch. “Never did I think we’d end up in this position.”
“Did they find anything?”
“No. I know how to keep the business separate.”
“Good, good,” I sigh. “Now what?”
“Violet says to lay low. They won’t let me out on bail, and she thinks it will be covered up by sending me off to trial immediately and then to prison.”
“I won’t let it happen.”
“You will.”
“Excuse me?”
“Listen, Arlo,” he leans over, tapping his finger on the table between us, and I mimic his actions. He’s completely serious, and Idon’t know if I should be fucking terrified or not. “I have a lot of people on the inside. You’ve dealt with the most important part, and that is to ensure they won’t find anything. I’ll stay locked up to throw them off. Because they’re expecting we’ll fight back.’’
“Won’t we?” My expression borders on astonishment, confusion, and a little disbelief. “I mean, I can’t just do everything alone.”
He offers a small smile. “You have Blair.”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of my butterfly. It’s true, I have Blair. However, I’d like to spare her as much as possible in this mess. She’ll get to kill Paul Simmons, and I’ll deliver him to her on a silver platter. But given everything she’s gone through in recent times, I don’t want to overburden her.
“I won’t—”
Dad cuts me off, lifting his finger and pointing it at me. “Don’t even go there. If you want to spare her, she’ll end up doing shit on her own. She’s so much like your mother it’s fucking scary. It’s better to involve her before she involves herself, and then you’d have a very angry, revenge-thirsty woman on your hands.’’
“Fine,” I relent. “Now, what the fuck am I supposed to do, Dad? Mom’s in a fucking coma, you’re in here and will go to prison for God knows how long, and Aria needs someone to look after her, too.”
He looks at me with pain in his eyes. “You’ve got this, my boy. This kind of situation is something your mother and I never wanted you to have to go through, but I know you. I know the man I raised. It’s fucking hard, but you’ve got this. You’re not alone. I might be behind bars, but I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way. And when your mother wakes up, she’ll be there, too.”
My throat starts closing up. I hate him seeing me so emotional because at times, I still feel like being seen as vulnerable is a weakness. Hudson is by nature a very stoic man. He does smilefrom time to time, but such a sight is few and far between. However, both he and Noelle raised Aria and me to be in touch with our emotions, and they instilled in our heads that crying, feeling pain and emotions isn’t being weak. It’s being human, and the more we bottled our emotions up, the bigger the fallout would be.
Even though I know their teachings were correct, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of, I can’t shake off the immense amount of embarrassment that I’m feeling. I hate not being able to do this on my own. I hate that I even allowed it to come to this point.
Dad notices the torn expression on my face and reaches with his hand, clasping it over mine. The chains jiggle, creating a distinctive sound in an otherwise silent room. My eyes are glued to the hand on top of mine, the aging he’s gone through in the last week adding to my worries.
“You’ve got this, Arlo. I believe in you.”
I take a deep breath, shoving all the feelings to the back of my head. “Let’s focus on other things.”
Dad raises a brow, then leans back. “What did you have in mind?”
“Alright, listen carefully…”
TWENTY-TWO
My entire body tenses as I see Zoe pointing a gun at me. A wave of cold sweat floods over me, and I’m not sure what to do. My heart starts beating faster, my palms growing damp. All I can focus on is the barrel of the gun that is a mere inch away from my face, and I don’t know if she’ll shoot.
I take a small step backward, and Zoe uses the opportunity to walk into the studio and shut the door, leaving a small gap. She doesn’t seem to notice it or doesn’t care enough. One look at her is enough to know just how angry she is.
“Zoe,” I speak, my voice shaky, despite my pathetic attempts to keepit steady.
Her blonde hair is messily tied into a high bun. The eye that I stabbed with the fork is bandaged up nicely, meaning she got decent medical treatment.
“You bitch,” she grits out, jabbing the gun into my forehead. “You ruined everything.”
“What—”
