Page 22 of If You Fight

“Unfortunately, the art appraisal business he and his brother ran until his death is all but bankrupt since they misspent their money. I’m afraid there’s not much left for you to receive after all is said and done.”

All the better. I never wanted anything to do with Oliver or his business.

My father, on the other hand, looked genuinely disappointed in my dead husband’s lack of business acumen. Wearing a deep frown, he shook his head slowly as the lawyer explained how little the appraisal house would give him.

“What a terrible day it has been for my daughter. First, she had to bury her husband, and now as a young widow, she hasn’t even been left a sufficient amount to live on. Thank God, she has family to support her.”

I cringed at hearing my father refer to supporting me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ryder’s eyes narrow as my father pretended to be that wonderful father figure he loved to have the rest of the world see him as.

Oliver’s attorney attempted to paint a rosier picture, though. “For what it’s worth, the business is a solid one, other than the debts that must be paid, so Mrs. Landon can look forward to profits in the future.”

None of this interested me. I wouldn’t get to directly benefit from the appraisal business anyway. My father had been the one who wanted it, and now that Oliver was gone, he’d get it.

His business completed, the lawyer left and my father poured himself another drink, clearly pleased with how things had gone. “That wasn’t too painful, was it?” he asked with a broad smile.

“You mean painful like having to live with a man who never cared about me? A son of a bitch who never once attempted to show me an ounce of kindness or warmth? That kind of painful?” I asked.

Looking past my father as he sipped his bourbon and branch, I saw Ryder’s eyes grow wide in surprise at my words. My father didn’t look surprised but confused, though. Furrowing his brow, he returned to his seat.

“What do you mean by that? Are you still holding onto those teenage girl fantasies of what marriage is supposed to be like? I would have thought you’d grown out of those by now.”

“He pushed me down those stairs, Dad. There was no intruder who tried to kill me. Just my husband.”

My father’s mouth dropped open in shock, and for a long moment, I wondered if he’d say anything. When he finally spoke, he didn’t seem to believe me.

“Oliver? That squirrely husband of yours did that?”

I leveled my gaze on him, refusing to let him think I’d made up this story. “The man you decided I needed to marry was nothing but cold toward me. On my wedding night, he left me alone to go to his brother’s house. He hated me.”

“Well, he couldn’t have hated you that much. You wouldn’t have been able to get pregnant if all he felt for you was hate.”

The silly grin on his face irritated me. I wanted to tell him the truth of who the baby’s father was, but I knew better. This was a long game I was playing with my father. Someday I’d tell him the truth, but not now.

For now, I’d have to ignore his grinning.

“How nice of you to make a joke about me losing my baby, Dad. First, you shackle me to that bastard, and now you think it’s funny to make jokes about my miscarriage that only happened because he threw me down a flight of stairs and then kicked me as I lay in agony at the bottom.”

The smile slid from my father’s face, and with a groan, he tipped his glass up to his mouth to take a drink. It gave him time before he said, “I didn’t know, Serena. I never would have figured Oliver for a man who abuses women.”

“Not women, Dad. Me. One woman. He abused one woman. His wife,” I snapped, tired of my father’s willingness to give Oliver the benefit of the doubt.

For the second time in minutes, I’d shocked my father. He sat back in his chair and groaned as his dark eyebrows drew in like angry black slashes.

“I’m willing to tolerate many things, but hurting one of my daughters is not one of them. I would have had him taken care of if I knew, Serena. Why didn’t you tell me when I asked you what happened in the hospital?”

Sure I couldn’t tell him the truth about wanting to exact my revenge on Oliver without giving away that Ryder had been the one who helped me get away from Oliver, I quickly devised a lie. “The man was my husband and he was standing right there when you asked me what happened. I knew I’d have to go back to living with him once I left the hospital. What did you expect me to do?”

“I’m sorry, honey. I had no idea. If I did, I would have taken care of him like he deserved,” he said somberly before finishing his drink and pouring himself a new one.

My father so rarely expressed genuine kindness that his apology surprised me for a moment, but I knew I couldn’t forget my pretending was to ensure Ryder and I were safe. Forcing a smile, I said what I knew my father would want me to say.

“He deserved a lot of bad things, but I’m glad you didn’t have to kill him, Dad.”

My kindness wasn’t lost on him, and he smiled at me. “You were too sweet for him, Serena. I should have known that.”

I waited nervously for him to begin making plans for my second marriage, but his mind stayed on Oliver. “I wonder who would have wanted your husband dead since I’ve doubted it was just some robbery gone bad at his office as the police claimed since the very beginning. And now that you’re telling me there was no intruder who attacked you, I’m doubly curious.”

“Why?” I asked, suddenly terrified by his curiosity.

---