Page 70 of Unwanted Vows

“Pff,” the old man languidly waves a hand. “That marriage was already doomed. I just facilitated the divorce. Have you never wondered at how quickly Amari was able to find a protector?”

In point of fact, I’d not wondered about it. Even in her early forties, Amari was beautiful. She could have had her pick of a dozen men, despite being dishonored by divorce. She picked Iskander. Whatever his other faults, her second husband doted on her and on her children.

As to his other faults, well, he had paid for those. We all had.

“Leland was two years old,” I say. “He’s lived with the stigma of being the child of a divorcee. In the community where he grew up, that was almost like being illegitimate.”

“And you gave him the princess,” Grandfather Aims says. “I’m not sure I see the logic in that, any more than I understood your reasons for getting a girl knocked up just before leaving for Africa.”

“I was feeling a little crowded,” I say. “Or I might have been a little more aware of the girl. As for the princess, Richard found a loophole, and we threaded the needle, so to speak. Catriona is a lovely young woman, but she and Leland are a far better match than she and I would have been. But none of this is what you want to discuss, is it?”

“No,” my grandfather said. “I’ve directed the Aims Corp ledgers to be delivered to Moor Security. I’ve worked with Austin Moor in the past. He’s an honorable man who understands how the world works. He’ll accept those ledgers and get them to you.”

“Why not send them to Charles Emory or Richard Lane?” I ask.

“I understand your wife is acquainted with Kate Emory. Charles is a little too much of an upstanding citizen to deal with the likes of me, but he has a good reputation. He’s a good person to do business with, but you should always be aware that he will follow the letter of the law as well as the spirit.”

I squeeze Maddy’s hand. Whether she realizes it or not, this is high praise of her friend’s husband. She squeezes back, but doesn’t say anything.

“As for Richard . . . well, I’m just as happy that he is Albert’s heir, not mine. My daughter, Deborah, was a good girl and followed my instructions. But Albert never tried to make her happy. He gave her lots of pretty and expensive things, and three children, but he didn’t give her his love.” Grandfather paused, and took a sip of water from a glass on a stand beside the table.

“I should have taken the children from them,” he says, looking out the window again. “I want to make Paul my heir. Your wife ran away from me, and wouldn’t let me adopt him like I wanted to do.”

“You wanted to take him away from me,” Maddy burst out. “Since I would not give up my son, you tried to kidnap him. You wanted to make him your heir, and paint a target on him.”

“You should have told me,” I say, looking at the old man. “I would have come home. Instead, Paul has had nine years of not having a father. It is fortunate that Madeline had good friends to help her.”

“You were dead to me,” Grandfather says. “So, now you are resurrected because there isn’t anyone else. You are reunited with your family. Does it make you happy?”

“Yes,” I say. “Yes, it does.”

“Very well,” the old man says. “I suppose I’ll have to make the best of it. Just remember, organized crime is better than disorganized crime. I did my best to keep drugs out of the schools. That one doctor had prejudices, but I made sure my working girls all had medical care. Yes, and childcare, too.”

“And the men who are permanent cripples because your enforcers got a little too rough?” I growl.

“Omelets and eggs, Grandson,” he says. “Omelets and eggs. Try not to arrest all my people, or get them killed. You can’t take away a man’s livelihood and not give him something in its place — or a woman’s either.”

“All right, Grandfather,” I say. “I’ll do the best I can for them.”

He nods, and turns his face to look out the window. We are dismissed.

COLD, HARD REALITY

MADDY

We are all very quiet on the way back to the Bunker. Outside the van, I can see people walking up and down the sidewalks. We pass storefronts, then a warehouse district, then open countryside and back to the glass front that looks as if it is erupting from the hillside.

I feel as if we have been gone for hours, but when I look at my phone, I see that it is not quite ten o’clock in the morning.

Andrew looks tired and drawn, as if he aged ten years since we left the secure apartment. Even Paul is quiet. I’m not sure how much he understands of what is transpiring. He is a precocious, exceptionally mature youngster, but he is only nine years old.

“Penny for them?” I ask Andrew.

He seems to shake himself, then gives me his attention. “Don’t worry,” he says. “Paul will not inherit a company that includes illegal drug labs, secret farms, human trafficking, or sex workers.”

“Are all those things part of Aims Corp?” I ask.

“Probably,” he says. “And dismantling the illegal parts will be quite a challenge.”

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