Page 65 of Filthy Rich

Not that Octavia’s a miracle worker, but she’s a good person. I’m hoping that somehow, Dave might be, too.

“Well, it’s a little complicated.” I take a bite so I can use chewing my food as an excuse to think about how to tell her this.

She sets her sandwich down on the plate and stares, waiting.

Chewing time didn’t help. There isn’t a great way to broach this topic. “So, when I was in high school, my dad got upset. He swore when Seren’s testimony sent him away, that he’d get his revenge. At first, I thought that was fine. I was keen to help him. But then, as I spent more time with them, when I saw that the Fansees genuinely liked me and weren’t trying to punish me, I wanted to spare them.”

“That’s good,” Octavia says. “You were growing.”

“Maybe, but I guess my ham-handed attempts at getting my dad to let go of his anger were a little obvious. Dad sent me a message with. . .” I cough. “Some damaging stuff about Dave. He told me my foster parents weren’t perfect, and that I shouldn’t even be trying to protect them. He threatened to share what he sent me with my foster mom, so that they’d break up and I’d have nowhere to live.”

“And now that he is out, you’re worried he’ll take whatever he sent and use it against them.”

Shoot. Why wasn’t I worried about that? “Well, Dad’s usually more of a blackmail kind of person than an outright aggressor,” I say. “I guess I’m more worried, well. Two things. First, I’m worried about whether what my dad said and sent is true, and what it means about my foster parents. And second, I’m worried he’ll finally take his revenge—maybe even in a way that’s totally different than spreading the information he’s shared with me.”

“Tell me what he knows about Dave that’s so bad,” Octavia says. “I don’t really know him, so I won’t be as emotional about it.”

I grimace. “I mean, it’s not great.”

“So, what? He bribed someone? He stole something? Or did he, like, have an affair?”

I’m not sure what she sees. I usually have a pretty good poker face, but I definitely give something away, because she gasps. “No. Dave?”

I nod slowly. “Well, at least, I think so.”

“Why do you think that? He just said he had an affair?”

I sigh, and I pull out my phone. “Not exactly.” I have to tap on a few things, but then I swivel it around.

At first she leans closer, and then she gasps louder, and then her eyes widen like saucers. “And that’s for sure him?” She bites her lip. “Could it have been photoshopped?”

“One of my friends from before is pretty good at photo analysis. I mean, I can’t trust him one hundred percent, because I knew him through my dad, right? But he said this had no hallmarks of being fake. He thinks it’s totally real.”

Octavia nods slowly, and then she drops a hand over mine. “You just found out people you thought were really good weren’t.”

I swallow.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “That must have been really hard for you.”

I shrug. “Look, I’m a big boy, but the thing is. . .”

“You can’t trust your dad either,” she says. “It might be fake. You just want to know whether it’s true.” She leans a little closer. “And maybe, even if it is true, Dave could have some explanation.”

“Like what?” I ask. “They were ‘on a break?’”

She frowns.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t look good.”

“What if,” Octavia says, “this was from before they met? It’s not like he was a nun before they got married.”

I blink. I feel like a complete moron for not thinking about that before.

“I mean—how would they be able to prove that?” I ask.

She tilts her head. “He could just say if it was, right?”

Duh. Because when people are honest, when they trust each other, they believe what the other person says.

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