Page 169 of What's Left of Us

Grabbing the copy of the paper I acquired from Evan Maloney, I slide it over to him. “That is where you’re wrong. Because my uncle left me fifty-one percent of the shares in MDR Inc., which was bought out by the Del Rossi Group using forged documents and an outside investor.”

He knows who the investor is based on the quirk to his brow and curve to his lip.

“My father recently forged paperwork in my name that said I willingly sold him those shares when I knew nothing about them. Last I checked, forgery is illegal.”

His eyes sparkle with something that resembles pride and humor.

I take a deep breath and lean back. “I may not know a lot about your world, but I do know that the only thing Al Capone went down for was tax evasion.”

Stefan Mangino glances between me and the document. “You do realize locking your father away would put him in a peculiar spot if he chose to talk.”

Swallowing, I nod. “I’m not going to beg you for my father’s life. He clearly didn’t care enough about mine to give me the same courtesy. But that doesn’t mean I want anything bad to happen to him. I understand that people have to pay the consequences of their actions. And his are piling up. Trust mewhen I say that the shame of this scandal would be plenty punishment enough. Being plastered on every news station and paper would damage him more than losing me would.”

A thoughtful noise rises from his throat as he scans the document before sliding it back to me and gesturing for somebody behind the counter.

“This is not going to happen overnight,” he points out. “Deals like this take time.”

“So give me time.”

It’s bold. Not a question.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem offended. “Your husband is going to make this difficult for you. He already has a foot in the door that should never have been there. If you’re able to pull this off, you’ll need to get rid of him first to be successful.”

Get rid of him.

The same woman from before comes over with a bag of food that would normally make my stomach rumble if my appetite were intact. He passes her a few large bills and waves her off, saying, “Keep it.”

When it’s just us, he takes one of the sandwiches out of the bag and sets it in front of me. “Because I’m inclined to agree with you, I’ll give you time. Your father losing everything would make me a very happy man. But if my name becomes part of the equation, there will be a problem.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

He stands. “Beautiful and ruthless,” he says again, much quieter as he watches me. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Danforth.”

After he leaves, I close my eyes and try to calm my shaking hands under the table.

Get rid of him.

It’s the last thing I want to do.

But haven’t I already started?

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Lincoln/ Two Years Ago

It’s been twoweeks of silence echoing in the empty halls of the house, and every creak in the night sounds like my demons taunting me with their laughter.

I made it a point to give Georgia her space to show her that I was willing to be patient. I knew she still went to the bookstore because I needed to make sure she was okay from a distance, but that was the extent of my prying.

And it killed me.

“You look like shit,” Conklin notes, patting my shoulder as he pours himself a cup of coffee from the breakroom pot. “Still nothing?”

Grumbling, I chug down the rest of the burnt coffee beans and set the mug into the sink. “No. I don’t know what to do, man.”

Sympathy coats his face as he turns and leans his back against the edge of the counter. He looks thoughtful as he sips his drink. “I guess the question you need to ask yourself is if you want to make it work.”

“Of course I do,” I snap.

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