Page 27 of The Tower

And for years he’s been using me.

I shiver, then brush away the tears that have dampened my cheeks. I want to scream that I don’t believe any of this. Except I do. Of course, I do. I know better than anyone alive what he’s capable of. I’ve looked into my father’s eyes. I’ve been the recipient of his ego, his pride, his manipulation, and the fallout from his ambition.

“He played with my memory,” I whisper.

Grimm nods. “And your meds keep the memories suppressed.” He tilts his head, studying me. “You didn’t take them yesterday, did you?”

I shake my head, my mind turning his words over and over. My father’s been manipulating my memory.

I hug my knees to my chest, trying to breathe. “Why do you care about any of this?” I finally ask.

“Let’s just say that I have as much reason to hate your father as you do.”

It’s not an answer, but I know it’s the best I’ll get tonight. It also has the ring of truth.

His eyes lock on mine. “Your mother fell to her death from the roof of your home. A place where you should be safe. “But you’ve never been safe there, have you Princess?”

I want to snap at him for calling me that, but I remember the damn rules. So I just glare instead.

He ignores me, pushing on. “Your mother fell into the void,” he says, his voice surprisingly gentle. “And that fall was one of the building blocks of your fear. Your father knew it would be.”

I hug myself. I don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but I’m certain I don’t want to follow him there.

“But that wasn’t enough for him to be sure,” Grimm continues, his words drowning out my whispers to “stop, stop, oh, please, stop.”

“Victor Reed’s a clever, manipulative man. And it’s you he manipulated most of all. Then he locked in your fears and anxieties with one more incident. You know what I’m talking about, Princess. This time, you tell me.”

I press my lips tight and shake my head. Just tiny movements as I try to find someplace to hide. Like Elysium, only in my mind.

But at the same time, some part of me doesn’t want to disappear. That part wants to hear more. To maybe, finally, understand what kind of monster my father truly is.

“That’s it,” he says, apparently reading my face. “Tell me what happened when you were eight.”

“How—” My voice comes out weak. Shaky. I hug my knees tighter. “How do you know about that?”

“My father would have been a fool not to research the competition. And I would be a fool not to review his files.” A smug grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t have a damn thing to do with Lucent, Princess. My business is information. And I know how to get what I need.”

I stay silent, and after what feels like an eternity, he says, “When you were eight, you got separated from your nanny. You were lost in Rockefeller State Park for hours. That contributed to your condition as well. Being out in the open. Alone. Afraid. Unable to anchor yourself to anything. Unable to find help.”

I close my eyes, blocking the hazy memory. The joy I’d felt watching a huge hawk in a tree. Then the terror when I’d turned around, only to find that Jennifer, my nanny, was gone. The fear that had washed over me when I’d wandered for hours, only to have the night creep up on me like death.

The way the trees extended their arms to grab me and hold me there. The way my screams went unanswered, as if I were the only one on earth. I was going to starve. I was going to fall to the ground and die. Then my body would decompose and I’d be nothing, just like the corpse of a decomposing rat I’d once tripped over in the basement.

“I was terrified,” I admit, my voice small.

“Of course you were. And when your father found you, he should have soothed you. Helped you. Instead, he yelled at you.”

Grimm’s right. I still remember my father’s shouts that I was disobedient and stupid. That I’d never learn, and it would have served me right for him to have left me there.

I swallow, then look straight at Grimm. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve been … intrigued by you for some time. I asked around. There were several people in the search party who witnessed your father’s tirade and agreed to talk to me. And once I located Jennifer and assured her that her story would stay between the two of us, she told me your father had paid her to leave you there. He told her it was a rite of passage, and you would be fine. She didn’t want to do it, but she was afraid he’d hurt her son if she didn’t.

I hug myself tighter, not sure what to say or how to feel. It’s Liam Grimm telling me this. A man I’ve despised for years, from a family I’ve grown up hating.

I draw one breath, then another, hoping to calm my racing pulse. I don’t like being fragile. And I like even less showing that weakness to this man. This enemy.

“It’s been a long day,” I say. “Is there someplace for me to sleep?”