Page 219 of Pretty Little Lies

“The solution is simple,” he continues as I maul over old memories and the current shitshow I’m still standing in. “I’ve made it no secret that I’ve wanted you in my family. You have another one…I understand that. As shitty as it sounds, Roger is no longer a threat to me. Your sisters have nothing to do with this. I’m not going to lock you in a basement and keep you away from them.”

I remain silent because nothing he’s saying is resonating with me. It’s not fixing anything. It’s only keeping me away from Dad.

“Since you are my heir, and you seem so concerned about the boys and stepping on their toes if you take the Titan seat…you’ll marry into the family.”

My stupid-ass heart, I hate the thing. Because my first thought goes, runs, and sprints to Torin.

That if I marry Torin, he’d have to deal with me.

He’d have to forgive me.

Emilio must see something flash across my face, because he continues and smashes that thought into two. “Ramsey.”

Fuck no.

Levi wouldnevergo for this idea, for one. Two, psycho. Three, I think Torin said he was gay. And, four, how stupid would I need to be to bury myself deeper into more Wildes bullshit?

“I don’t need an answer right now,” Emilio premises. “However, think of the things it would serve. You’d never have to worry about money again. You could buy a house of your liking, Ramsey won’t have access to it, and you can pay off Roger’s medical bills that are stacking up by thedaysince he’s been here.”

Emilio knows exactly where to strike because all those are legit reasons itwouldbe a good idea. A marriage would solve all my problems.

If it wasn’t to Ramsey Wildes.

“The girls would never have to worry about food and clothes again. There would be?—”

“Stop,” I clip out under my breath, hating the glimmers of hope flicker in my head.

This isn’t real.

The kindness and the drop-in that Emilio just presented at this door are not going to make me live happily ever after.

“I wouldn’t live in The Landings,” I grind out through clenched teeth. “If you just handed me the money without the husband.”

“I never said you had to.”

“The answer is still no.”

Emilio studies me for another moment, his pride probably holding him to his spot before he gives me a curt nod. “If that’s what you wish.”

And he doesn’t give me another opportunity to speak, striding down the hallway and taking all his fantasies with him.

But that’s when the worst happens.

It’s when a fleet of people in scrubs rushes the hallway like a pack of wild beasts startled by a large animal and shoves through Dad’s hospital room like the room is on fire. When the ongoing drone of a machine flat-lining pierces through my chest and has me sprinting behind them inside Dad’s space.

They all surround his bed, speaking words that don’t reach my ears in waves but just as sounds.

Two hard pads—the things that resuscitate people—are placed on Dad’s naked chest next to the blue hospital gown he’s wearing.

He’s leaving me.

“Dad…” My voice is barely a strain over the hospital help in the room as I step closer. Tears enflame behind my eyes, but all I want to do is see his face.

Not his chest that arches every time they turn that machine on to make his heart start beating again.

This isn’t happening.

I notice that Dad doesn’t move as a male voice shouts for someone to do something. It doesn’t register.

---