Page 52 of Remy

I have no bargaining power. No collateral. Or do I?

I turn to him, finding him halfway up the stairs. “We could find the money elsewhere. He doesn’t need you.”

“Well, I need his equipment, so unless you’re willing to forfeit your life, I suggest you keep things civil.” He pauses at the landing. “If you didn’t already notice at the hospital, your father trusts me. I suggest you learn to do the same. Now move your ass. Let’s make this short and sweet. Your father has to concentrate on recovery.”

His fake concern for my dad only enrages me further.

I stalk up the stairs and maneuver in front of him, cautious not to make contact with the devil as I open the door to my childhood home.

It’s been weeks since I’ve been in here and years since my mother died, but this place is always teeming with her scent of cedarwood and patchouli. I don’t want Remy anywhere near it. Near her. His presence spits in the face of all the good she brought into this world.

I pass the small entry and continue into the open living area, all the air escaping my lungs in relief at the sight of my dad seated on his plush grey sofa, a bandage still covering his forehead.

I rush for him, taking in the fatigue in his eyes as I lunge onto the cushioned seat beside him to wrap him in a hug. “What were you thinking, driving home on your own? You should’ve called. Why didn’t you?”

He returns the gesture, his arms heavy around me. “I wasn’t alone. Remy arranged a driver to bring me and my car back from the city.”

Fucking Remy. Always one step ahead.

“You should’ve asked me.” I withdraw to meet my father’s gaze. “I would’ve got an Uber into the city and brought your car back myself.”

“It wasn’t necessary.” The asshole speaks from somewhere behind me. “One of my men was already close by.”

I don’t acknowledge him. Don’t even look in his direction.

“Tell me what the doctor said.” I grasp my father’s hands, silently begging for full transparency.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Liv. Everything is as it should be.”

“But what is everything exactly? I want to know the type of cancer. The prognosis. How many chemo treatments you’ve had…”

His smile turns apologetic. “I’ve already told you all you need to know.”

My stomach hollows. “Dad, you haven’t?—”

“Why did you come back here after the hospital anyway?” he cuts me off with a blatant segue. “You should’ve gone home to rest.”

I slide my hand away from his to stem the ache of dismissal. “I needed to keep busy. My mind isn’t a comforting place right now.”

He winces. “I promise I’m fine.”

“Your health is only one of many things that worry me, Dad.”

“I know.” He looks down at his hands in his lap. “My worst fear was that you would find out about the situation with Remy’s family from someone other than me. I’m sorry, fragolina.”

I settle back into my seat. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was hoping you wouldn’t have to find out at all.” Dad takes great interest in the aging skin on the back of his hand, rubbing his thumb repeatedly over his knuckles. “It’s not something I thought you’d understand.”

“You’re right,” I whisper. “I don’t.”

What hurts most is that I’d assumed we had the same values. That we were cut from the same cloth. Has he somehow changed from the man who tag-teamed Mom in teaching me right from wrong?

“I need you to explain it to me.” I tilt my head, attempting to meet his gaze. “Because I don’t believe you willingly walked into something this morally corrupt.”

The hairs on my nape tingle in foreboding, my senses on high alert for a reprimand to my disobedience from Remy.

“I promise I did.” Finally Dad meets my gaze. Tired. Solemn. Yet resolute. “I’ve hidden a lot of pain from you over the years. A wealth of anger, too.” He quits rubbing his knuckles, instead tangling his fingers in his lap. “Your mother’s cancer battle was a lot more complicated than we made out. And it wasn’t only grief that brought me to my knees when she passed but an overwhelming sense of injustice at how the health system let us down.”

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