It’s a compliment I happily accept with a genuine smile. The first one I’ve worn all night.
“Thank you.” I grin while at the same time realizing it was Mr. DuPonce who challenged my father. It makes sense.
The DuPonces are built on integrity, and their fortune far surpasses the one my family had. It’s no wonder Mr. DuPonce saidsomething. He’s the one man whom my father doesn’t have in his pocket. He’s about to walk away when a question dawns on me.
“Mr. DuPonce,” I say quietly, nodding for him to follow me further down the hall and away from the library. “What did my father mean bymoney that doesn’t exist?”
He grabs the back of his neck and breathes out, looking so much like his son it’s harder not to see it.
“You don’t want to get your hands dirty with any of this, Tris. Trust me. It’s not worth getting your family’s money back,” he says, sounding more sincere than he did in that room only a few moments ago.
“I don’t want my family’s money back.” The words are out of my mouth before I even realize I’ve said them, surprising both myself and Mr. DuPonce.
“Then what do you want, Tris?” His brows furrow, and he tilts his head.
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “But I’d like to start by doing the right thing.”
He smiles down at me the way I’d imagine he’s looked at Callie countless times. Like a father who is proud of his daughter. It’s the first time anyone has ever looked at me like this, and it warms something in my chest. The weight I’ve been carrying no longer feels as though it’s going to crush me, but instead I feel stronger, like I’m capable of anything.
“That’s a good place to start,” he says, still smiling, before turning serious. “Without boring you with the gritty details of how, money that doesn’t exist is money that’s somehow been moved around until it’s no longer traceable or legally placed somewhere else.”
“Why would someone want to do that?” I ask, trying to understand.
“That’s a good question,” he says with a look over his shoulder toward the room where my father is. “Keep asking questions like that, and I think you’ll figure it out.”
I nod my head. “Thanks.”
I turn to walk away, but he places his hand gently on my shoulder, dropping it when he has my attention.
“Just be sure that you’re prepared for the answers you might find,” he warns gently, before walking away.
It’s a warning, that much I understand, but I can’t stop myself from chasing the truth, needing to know exactly if and why my father would hide money, and if he is, where is it now?
After being dropped off at home by one of my father’s hired chauffeurs, I toss and turn all night. Going through everything I know about my father, every conversation I’ve had surrounding this case, until I’m so tired I’m passing out mid-thought. I’m almost fully unconscious when my eyes burst open as it hits me...
“Oh, my God!”
“Listen, I know you both probably hate me, and after how awful I was the other day, I don’t blame either of you if you never want to speak to me again, but I could really use some help...”
I haven’t spoken to the girls outside of what’s necessary to do my job for almost a week now, but after my realization last night, I know I can’t do what’s next on my own.
“Hmmm, I reckon I didn’t hear an apology anywhere in there. Did you, Rory?” Ainsley asks, turning up her southern twang for emphasis.
“Nope,” Rory replies, popping the ‘p’ and placing her hands on her hips.
My shoulders drop, and I swallow my pride. With them, it’s easy to admit that I was wrong, and if it means gaining their forgiveness, then I’ll apologize a hundred times over if that’s what it takes. I gear myself up to grovel, taking a deep breath and wiping my hands on my apron before meeting both their expectant gazes.
“I’m sorry for how I spoke to you both. It was wrong and I—”
“Apology accepted,” Ainsley blurts, cutting me off with a smile.
“Wait, what?” My brows furrow, and my head jerks back. “That’s it? You both forgive me? Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Ainsley shrugs.
“I was all for making you grovel, really stretching it out, ya’ know? But with Friendsgiving being only a week away, we figured you might need our help with that, so there’s not really much time for basking in your turmoil.”
“Brat,” I mutter, shaking my head.
