Page 59 of Cage of Thorns and Blood

She stares at me, the tick in the right side of her jaw the only tell that right about now, she wants to throttle me.

“I think your father should hear this latest scheme of yours,” she says imperiously.

“Yes, run along. Fetch Babbo. We all know you can’t act on this without his say so.”

The crack of pain in my face is felt before I register the sound in the room. I rub at my cheek as she walks out. Damn, Mamma’s palm has force behind it.

They return, with Babbo looking like he’s about to commit murder. I straighten my spine and face them both.

“Mamma, Babbo. I think your supposedly amazing friend Angela is playing you. I can prove it, but you need to give me something first. I want a say in the company. Ten percent.” I want more, of course, but that’s a good foot in the door, and I can plot and plan from there.

“I heard you received a good divorce settlement,” Babbo says. “Not that you told us, of course, with your secretive little ways. You probably need the money less than the rest of us.”

“It’s not about the money,” I say. “It’s about me being treated as an equal. I’m not asking for half for God’s sake. Ten percent. A share. That’s all I want, and I will make it worth your while.”

Father stalks to the bar and pours himself a drink. There are small bars in almost every room in this house. What that says about my parents, I don’t know.

“Angela isn’t your friend,” I say to Mamma. “She’s tricked you. It’s all bullshit.”

Babbo stares at me and harrumphs. “He already got to you? I told you she’d fall for him.” He shakes his head at my mother. “He’s a handsome bastard, and he has a way with the ladies, I hear.”

“I haven’t fallen for him,” I scoff, hating the way my face flames. “I picked his fucking locked drawers in his study.”

They both stare at me, my mother’s mouth dropping open. She doesn’t look elegant for once but more like a fish. I almost laugh.

“How?” she asks.

“With a paper clip.”

“Is that really a thing?” she asks, her face all astonishment.

“Yes, it’s a thing,” I reassure her. “One I know how to do.”

“What did you find?” Babbo asks.

“Files. On me. Photographs. He’s been having me followed by an investigator, it seems. He set a trap. He wants us to think he’s letting us see all this information about his business, but really, he’s feeding us false information.”

“Are you sure about this?” My father takes a pipe out of the bureau in the far corner of the room and commences the ritual of preparing it.

He rarely smokes a pipe and usually only does so when he is upset or angry.

“I photographed some of his entries.”

“That son of a bitch. I told you this Angela character was too good to be true.” He berates Mamma and even though she deserves it, I don’t want this to descend into a fight between them.

“We can use this to our advantage,” I say.

“How?” Mamma asks.

“Play him at his own game and feed Angela bad information.”

“Yes, but he’ll know something is wrong as he won’t see you again,” Father says.

“I will see him. I have an excuse lined up for today and tomorrow, and then I’ll see him again, and you can supply the fake information to Angela.”

“What information?”

“I don’t know. The main thing is to make him believe he’s won and then show him he hasn’t.”

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