Page 103 of A Game of Deception
“I’ll call you the second it’s over,” I promised.
Leo gave me a quick, awkward hug. “Give him hell, Tara.”
I walked toward the door, my purpose a shield around me. I flashed a grim smile over my shoulder. “That’s the plan.”
In my car,I rehearsed what I would say, how I would act. The key was to make my father believe he’d won without seeming too eager or compliant. A delicate balance—defeated enough to satisfy his ego, but not so broken that he’d be suspicious.
I pulled over a few blocks from my father’s mansion and called him, my heart pounding as I waited for him to answer.
“Tara.” His voice was cool, controlled—as always.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then made my voice small and uncertain. “Dad, I... I need to see you.”
A pause. “I thought you made your position quite clear the last time we spoke.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” The words tasted like ash in my mouth. “I’ve been confused about everything, and I... I need your help sorting it all out.”
Another, longer pause. I could almost hear the gears turning in his head, weighing my sincerity, calculating the odds that this was a trap. Finally, he spoke.
“Come to the house. I’m in my study.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I said, relief—both genuine and performed—coloring my voice.
“I’ll be waiting.”
The line went dead. I sat for a moment, gathering myself.First hurdle cleared. He was suspicious alright—he wouldn’t be Hank Swanson if he wasn’t—but his confidence in his ability to read and manipulate me had won out. Now came the hard part.
I drove the rest of the way to the mansion, rehearsing my lines, adjusting my demeanor. I had fully stepped into the role of the confused, vulnerable daughter seeking her father’s guidance.
The security guard waved me through without question. I parked in front of the house, but before getting out, I opened the voice recording app on my phone and started it, then slipped the phone into the outer pocket of my purse where it would have the clearest access to pick up our conversation. I checked that the screen was locked so it wouldn’t accidentally stop recording, then stepped out of the car.
The front door opened before I could ring the bell. Maria, my father’s longtime housekeeper, greeted me with surprise and genuine warmth.
“Miss Tara! It’s been too long.”
I managed a small smile. “Hi, Maria. Is my father in his study?”
“Yes, yes. He’s expecting you.” She stepped aside to let me in, her eyes lingering on my face with concern. “Are you alright, mi niña? You look tired.”
“Just a long day,” I assured her, touched by her concern.
I made my way through the sprawling mansion, each step taking me deeper into the lion’s den.
When I reached the study door, I hesitated, hand raised to knock. This was it. Once I stepped inside, there would be no turning back.
I knocked.
“Come in,” my father called.
I entered the same room where, just a week ago, he had caught me searching through his files. He was seated behind his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose, a stack of papers in front of him. He looked up as I entered, his expression carefully neutral.
“Tara. Have a seat.”
I moved to one of the leather chairs facing his desk, perching on the edge rather than settling in.
“Thank you for seeing me,” I said, keeping my voice soft, my eyes downcast.
He removed his glasses and set them aside, studying me with the penetrating gaze that had intimidated business rivals and league officials for decades. “You said you needed my help.”
