Page 43 of Destructive Truths

“Maybe.” I sit at the breakfast bar and pull the box towards me, but I don’t open it yet. “But after the week I’ve had, I think I might take after my dad more.”

He winks before turning away from me. “How’s training doin’?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Good. Between Liam and Beibhinn pushing me to my limits, my body aches in places I didn’t know existed.” Although some of that might be down to how Liam fucked me senseless on Monday night—now, that’s the type of cardio I can get behind, or should I say under, but I’m sure that’s the last thing my dad needs (or wants) to hear.

“Muscle pain aside, the workouts have been helpful because I’m finally feeling somewhat confident about my upcoming fight against Hannah. I’m slowly getting the hang of it. I am nowhere near Beibhinn-level bad bitch, but I’d like to think I can hold my own when I face Hannah.”

Taking a seat across from me, he then slides my cup towards me. “I don’t doubt it, doll.”

Finally, I remove the lid from the box, and I’m greeted with the USB Rohan took from me the night we met and a bunch of paperwork and envelopes. “Oh, just what every girl wants on her birthday.”

“Might not look like a lot,” Lachie smirks. “But everythin’ in there serves a purpose. You’re eighteen now, which means the Ryan empire is yours—properties, businesses, both legal and illegal. You name it, it’s all in there. That’s why we had Rohan take the USB from you. If you’d tried to gain access to any assets before you turned eighteen, Gabriel would’ve known you had the key codes in your possession. As of midnight, he’s no longer the Ryan beneficiary.”

My eyes widen as I rummage through all the bank statements, rental property agreements, land ownership, and more.

“D’ya still have the box from your ma?”

“Yes.” I nod, still shocked at the substantial nine-figure number staring back at me from a bank statement in my name. No wonder Gabriel wants me dead. This is hundreds of millions of euros.

“Good. That wee box contains the access codes to every account. You’ll need them for transactions over €50,000. Any figure up to that, you can use the bank cards.” He points to a black envelope with the Ryan family crest on the front.

I’m in shock, mouth swinging open and eyes blinking rapidly. Is he seriously handing me millions as though it’s only a few euros? Fucking hell. I think I’m going to pass out.

Lorcan’s phone pings with an incoming message, and he pulls it from his pocket before glancing down at the screen. “I need to get gone, doll.” Lorcan pushes from the stool. “Keep any important documents locked inside the safe. Change the code to something only you know, and don’t tell a soul.”

Again, I nod my head, still unable to form words.

“One last thing.” He reaches into his other pocket and whips out a key fob, then slides it towards me. “Lá breithe shona duit, a ghra.”

“You got me a car?”

Completely ignoring my question, he gestures towards the hallway with the tip of his chin. “Walk me out?”

Doing as he asked, I follow behind him until he comes to a halt next to the door. “If you need me, I programmed my number into the car.” He removes his hands from his pocket and shifts from foot to foot.

Finally, I encase my arms around him and hug him tight. “Thanks, Dad.”

Within seconds, he returns the gesture and tucks me beneath his chin. “Take a day off, doll. Wake Beibhinn up and go treat yourself. You only turn eighteen once.”

Taking a step back, I flash him a smile, knowing full well that’s what I’d intended to do, anyway.

Finally, he pulls the door open, and my eyes land over his shoulder at the guy leaning against a purple sports car. Green eyes scan my body from head to toe, sending shivers down my spine. “What’s he doing here?”

“Look after yourself, princess.” Lorcan pulls my attention back to him before he leans in, placing a fatherly kiss on my forehead. “And keep your eyes open.”

With that, he walks out the door and down the steps—unwilling to give me a response.

Leaning against the doorway, I watch as Rohan tosses a set of keys at my dad before he stalks towards Lorcan’s black Mercedes, opens the passenger door, and lowers himself into the seat.

Once again, Rohan’s eyes connect with mine, refusing to let me go. Then it hits me… words Lorcan said when he handed me the keys to my new car and why he avoided answering my question. The gift isn’t from him… it’s from Rohan. Lá breithe shona duit, a ghra. Happy birthday, love.

Mother of fuck. He’s unbelievable.

Slamming the door shut, I push all thoughts of Rohan King from my mind, then race up the stairs and rush towards Beibhinn, who’s still passed out in my bed.

“Bitch! Wake the fuck up. We’re going shopping.”

TWENTY-SIX

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