I might have my father’s genes, but who I was—who I really was—had happened without his input. My father was as irrelevant today as he had been last week.
When Fox had first mentioned Mike, I’d realized I hadn’t thought of my father since childhood. I didn’t want to dwell on the idea of a man fathering me and then not wanting to know me. I didn’t want to think about how frustrating it was to know nothing about him, not even his name. Today, I’d been forced to confront the idea of him. I’d had to go through all that—and I was fine. Better than fine.
I didn’t care.
The Chameleon saw me as a threat. He was trying to spook me. It wasn’t going to work. I wasn’t going to let my mind get fucked by some sociopathic assassin intent on talking in riddles. I was going to get him at the Balgray party.
I could vanquish my childhood demons by vanquishing this devil in my sights.
Chapter Forty-Three
Fox
Haze had been surprisingly upbeatall day.
It was almost as if she was relieved.
We were in our bedroom getting ready for dinner out. Haze was at her dressing table, applying eyeliner. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve got this far without a father, why the fuck would I need one now?”
“I’m sorry. Getting taken in by Mike was all my fault.”
Haze looked up at me in the mirror. “If you go behind my back again, I will cut you.”
I nodded. “Totally fair enough.”
I was going to do better.
I could see it now. I’d been self-pitying and self-indulgent. Worrying about letting my family down had nearly made me let my family down.
Stop looking inside. Start looking out.
Had I heard that on one of my inspirational recordings, or did I just come up with it myself?
Balgray Hall. We had one week to go. We might still be walking into a trap when we turned up masked and ready to party, but at least we’d now located a hidden exit. If things went bad, we had a way out.
My mood had been helped by the fact that Jenny had undertaken an extensive background search on Sally. She’d checked herbank accounts and gone through her mobile phone records, and had even spent a day following her. According to Jenny, she was clean—except for a couple of reports on questionable conduct, which Jenny couldn’t fully access without a warrant. The reports may have been a mild concern, but the main takeaway was that she was a bona fide therapist who did not appear to be involved with any European gangs.
The relief for me was huge.
The doorbell rang, and I went down to let in Jessica, who was going to be babysitting for us. She was the niece of one of our neighbors and charged three times the going rate, as she was training to be a Norland Nanny. I was pretty sure their supposedly elite training didn’t extend to what to do if an international assassin tried to break in, but we were confident she could hold the fort for the hour and a half we were out at a neighborhood dinner.
By the time we were standing on the doorstep of a large detached new build on a quiet street, all jagged lines and a glass extension, I realized Haze hadn’t fully explained exactly who we were having dinner with.
“Who are these people again?”
“Best-case scenario, they’re just school parents who want to be friends. Worst-case, they’re working for The Chameleon to bring about our untimely death and destruction.”
The door flung open. “Welcome!” Frederica was in a tight black dress with a low-cut neckline. “Come on in.” We followed her into the dining room, and a flurry of hellos were exchanged with her husband, Roger, a short man who introduced himself as a “property magnate.”
The table was only set for four.
“An intimate dinner.” Frederica smiled. “We don’t have staff tonight; we’re all alone.”
Frederica kept flicking her hair as Roger droned on about a big property deal he was undertaking with a Russian billionaire. He was a little sketchy on what part he had to play in it all, or what his job actually entailed.
We ate a truffle risotto and made strained small talk, mostly focused on school. I clocked that Haze drank a large gulp of wine every time Frederica mentioned how advanced for their age her children were.
Roger was wearing a patterned shirt that had one too many buttons undone. I had nothing against hairy chests, I just preferred to not be staring at one while I ate.
