Page 165 of Poison Vows

This is exactly what’s fucking me up, the fact that Grandfather’s moves lately have been so weird.

“He’s waiting for you,” Rip says, then proceeds to open the doors before I can say or ask anything else.

Steeling myself, I walk into the office filled with shelves upon shelves of dark wood that hold books, different from my mother’s grand library.

Ahead, there’s a lone man sitting in a high back chair by the fireplace. His favorite place, and behind him is one of Grandfather’s closest friends, Dr. Brad.

“Sit, let him look at your wounds,” Grandfather says.

Dr. Brad bows to me, then he silently gets to work, removing my shirt to assess my wounds.

“How is it?” Grandfather demands.

“He was shot twice. The bullets were removed, but the bleeding hasn’t completely stopped.”

“Then fucking stop it!”

“Yes, sir,” Dr Brad says and immediately gets to work.

I sit there stoically for twenty minutes as my wounds are cleaned, stitched, and then wrapped in thick gauze.

I stare at Grandfather the entire time, studying his papery old face, my mind racing with the incredulity of this man.

He hasn’t stopped reading his book since I entered, but after Dr. Brad leaves, he closes the book and stares at me.

“Ask if you have questions,” he demands. “Stop staring at me like I’m an alien.”

“Aren’t you one?” I question, intentionally keeping my voice clear of any emotions.

“Does it feel like it?”

“You tell me.” I hold his stare coldly. “You go behind my back, dig up my life, manipulate the Hughes idiots on one burner, and get Vaughn moving on another, all that just to move me. But when I didn’t do what you expected, you made the girl a target, which triggered those bastards to set me up, attempting to have me brutally murdered, and you knew everything beforehand, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he answers simply, cleanly, not missing a beat.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

We glare at each other.

“You’re one of the most cunning old foxes to ever exist,” I mock. “Are you proud of yourself? Watching your play succeed when I almost lost my life?”

It took me these past few days to realize what this old man had been doing all along.

He fostered the hatred between me and his sons, intentionally raised Vaughn to be a whetstone for me, and when things got to a fever pitch, he brought out the girl he once abandoned by the side of the road years ago.

“And yet here you are,” he simply says. “Did you die, though?”

“Disappointed much?” I mock.

“Yes,” he says directly. “Did it have to take that long? A big man like you, laid up in a hospital for so many days like a weakling.”

I knew it!

“You knew everything,” I state, my fists clenched.

“Alessio, please, who do you think raised you? All those ruthless methods, how could I not see that you were intentionally making your uncles move against you?” the old man sneers. “You played your cousin like a flute, making him think he had won by sending you away, but in fact, you just wanted time to get fixed for her!”

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