But it’s too late for apologies to matter.
“She loved you and Mom and Alicia and Brandon. She looked at all of you as her own family. She called youDad—that’s how much she loved you. Do you have any idea how much you meant to her? Do you have any idea what this has done to her?” My volume is off the charts as I strike him squarely in the heart with my words. He needs to feel the pain he’s inflicted. He needs to understand the damage he’s caused. “After all she’s done for you.”
Silence falls between us.
Not the comfortable kind. Not the kind that fades. The kind that settles like volcanic ash after something has burned down.
I can hear the wind move through the trees. I can hear my own pulse.
And in that silence, everything rewinds.
Andi reaching for me.
Her voice breaking when she said, “You promised.”
The way I stepped back.
The way I let the photos speak louder than her.
I see it now. All of it. Dad didn’t just blackmail her. He engineered the fracture. And I handed him the weapon. I inhale slowly, but the air feels too thin.
“You knew,” I say finally, not looking at him. “You knew it wasn’t clean. You knew there was more to it. And you still let me believe she was dangerous.”
“I was trying to save this family,” he whispers.
I nod once. “But you destroyed it instead.”
That verbal punch hits him harder than anything I’ve said.
Mom makes a small sound behind me, like something inside her cracked.
I turn back to Dad. “You don’t get to say her name again,” I say quietly. It’s not shouted. It’s not emotional. It’s final. “You don’t get to use me as leverage. You don’t get to weaponize her past. And you don’t get to act like this was just business.”
His face drains of color.
“Luke, please—” Mom steps forward.
I shake my head without looking at her. “No.” That word feels bigger than it ever has in my life. “If you ever go near her with this again, you lose me. Completely.”
Dad’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
I let the silence sit one more second—long enough for him to understand this isn’t a threat. It’s a boundary.
“You didn’t just betray her over money,” I add. “You used your own son to do it.”
And then I turn and walk away. Mom calls my name. But I don’t stop.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LUKE
Iwake before the alarm, not because I’m rested, but because I never really slept. The apartment is dim and still, the early light barely pushing through the blinds. For the first time in days, there’s no immediate rush of anger waiting for me when I open my eyes.
Just a heavy weight sitting squarely on my chest.
The kind that doesn’t shout.
The kind that settles.
