Page 44 of October
He waved her off. "I'm not being mean, I'm being accurate. The man's emotionally constipated. You ever seen him try to express empathy? It's like watching someone try to do algebra in the middle of a stroke."
He glanced back at me, voice softening just a little beneath the sarcasm. "You didn't need that, kid. You need someone who feels things. Who actually knows how to show up for you. Not... corporate Ken doll over there playing husband."
Dad let out a breath, one hand on his hip, the other still mid-rant. "God knows why you ever fell in love with him in the first place. You fell so hard, so openly for him" Dad continued, "and apparently he turned out to be... well, an emotionally lobotomized tax consultant in disguise."
I laughed through a sniffle, but it hurt. Because he wasn't wrong. I blinked fast. "I think some part of me's still that girl," I admitted. "The one who fell in love too fast and never figured out how to fall out."
He nodded, stepping forward to place a firm, fatherly hand on my shoulder.
"Then it's about time you let her grow up, sweetheart," he said.
Mom made a soft noise of agreement behind us, and for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel embarrassed about crying in front of them. Because they saw me. The girl I was and the woman I was trying to become. Dad pointed toward the kitchen.
"I'll make tea. Unless you need something stronger. In which case, I've still got that awful limoncello your uncle gave me."
Mom rolled her eyes with a sigh of affection. "Joseph, now is not the time."
"It's always the time for limoncello," he muttered, already rummaging in the cabinets.
I looked at both of them—my mother, who never let go, and my father, who loved like a grumbling lighthouse: rough, steady, and always there whether you saw it or not. My heart hurt, but it also felt stitched together in a way it hadn't in months. Maybe years.
"I missed you both," I said softly, voice still raw.
Mom brushed my hair back behind my ear, her palm warm against my cheek. "We missed you too, baby."
"We're not going anywhere," Dad added from the kitchen, raising his voice over the clink of glasses. "Even if you keep marrying idiots."
I laughed through a tear that spilled anyway, in that cluttered kitchen with the hum of the kettle and the lemon-sweet sting of memory in the air, I let myself collapse in relief. In safety. In something that felt like beginning again. Maybe everything had fallen apart. But I wasn't alone in the rubble. Not anymore.
We sat around the kitchen table, a mismatched trio of mugs between us—tea steeping, steam curling like quiet prayers into the air. Mom and Dad sat across from me, elbow on the table, fingers drumming, waiting. Their eyes hadn't left my face since I started talking, and I did talk. About everything. From the missed dinners to the cold silences, the gaslighting moments I brushed off, the party, the lies, the voice on the phone that still echoed in my head, Laura, purring like she owned a piece of my life.
When I finished, the room went very, very still. No one spoke for a beat. The kind of silence that buzzes in your bones. Then Dad stood abruptly.I blinked. "Where are you going?"
He didn't answer at first, just picked up his phone from the counter and slipped his car keys into his coat pocket.
"Dad?"
Mom looked up from her tea, confused. "Joseph?"
"I'll be back soon," he said, already heading for the door. "Judy, stay here with our daughter."
"Dad, no," I said quickly, heart thudding. "Please. Don't."
He paused at the door, stepped back just long enough to lean in and kiss my forehead, warm and certain. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he said quietly. "There's something I need to take care of."
My stomach dropped. "Oh God." He didn't reply, just offered that maddeningly calm half-smile of his. The one that usually meant something explosive was on its way.
Then he was gone. The door closed behind him with a soft click that sounded too final.
I turned to Mom, wide-eyed. She just sighed, sipping her tea, unfazed.
"Well. I hope that son of a bitch has life insurance."
Chapter Fifteen: Bloodlines and Battlelines
The call with the police had just ended. My throat was dry, my palms damp with sweat despite the icy calm of my office. I sat still for a moment, letting the silence settle like dust after a storm. Tomorrow, we dismantle everything. My father's empire. Laura's schemes. The web of lies and corruption they've spun for years. The FBI's Criminal, Cyber, Response, and Services Branch (CCRSB) is already involved, but we need to move quickly. The evidence we've gathered is substantial, but we can't afford any slip-ups.
I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the upcoming mission. My anger flared again, directed at my father, at myself, at Laura. I had been complicit, naive, and blind to the truth. Now, I was determined to dismantle the empire my father had built on lies and deceit.
