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“Have a seat,” Bryce commands.

Father doesn’t take orders. He heads toward the drink cart, opening up a glass bottle with brown liquid swilling around in it. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“Goddamn it, I said, sit!” Bryce slams his fist on the desk, making Father jump.

He places the top back on the glass with a look of annoyance on his face and takes a seat. “What is it now, Bryce?” He points to Austin and me. “What is this hostile takeover about?”

I hold up the flash drive and throw it to him.

Dad picks it up, examining it. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You’re going to put it in the computer and open it,” I seethe.

“Don’t forget I’m your father, and you’re in my house. I would watch your tone, son.” He huffs before turning around and walking toward his desk to stick the drive into the side of the laptop.

The way he’s so nonchalant about things makes my skin crawl. Knowing the truth and standing next to him is making my veins boil. I’ve heard of people hating someone enough to kill. I never understood it until this second.

“This’d better be good,” he taunts.

I have to place my hand on Austin’s arm to keep him from launching forward at him.

“Open. The. Files,” Bryce says as calmly as possible.

He sighs, clicking his mouse. We can’t see what he’s looking at, but from the way he goes stone-cold still, we know he’s aware of what’s on that drive. I watch him. His finger doesn’t move the mouse, and his shoulders don’t flinch. I wonder if he’s even breathing.

“Where did you get this?” he asks.

“It was all on Missy’s computer at Sexton Media,” Bryce replies.

Father falls to the seat behind his desk. From the quick defeat in his posture, I’d say he’s seen this before.

“How long have you known that Missy kept these files?” I ask.

He looks up at me with those cold, coal-like eyes that I once loved. “Since the moment we started dating.”

“When she was sixteen,” Austin practically spits at him.

Father gives him a stern look. “You know what a vixen she was. I don’t know any man who would have said no to her.”

“I would have,” Bryce says.

Austin lurches forward but stops at the foot of the desk. “I was a horny teenager. You were an old man with a wife, three sons, and a rising empire.”

There’s a picture on his credenza. It’s a photo of the three of us boys, taken at the house in Tahoe. It feels odd here among his new life of money and marvel. I turn back to him and watch as his breaths quicken.

“How long has Missy been blackmailing you?” I ask.

He looks up at me with a despondent grin and points toward the screen. “How much of this have you seen?”

“The whole thing. Right down to you telling Missy how to kill Mom.” I have to look away. Shit. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.

Our father sits up and leans his elbows on his desk. He motions toward Austin. “My drink.”

“Fuck you,” Austin replies.

“You want the whole sordid story? Then, give me my fucking drink!” he yells.

I haven’t seen my father this shaken in years. He’s a vain man. A weak man. No one ever sees it. He wears his mock strength like a cloak over his cowardly frame.