Page 79 of The Trust We Broke
Lucy looks up at me, and I can see the devastation in her face. “Dad forced my hand to divorce you. But it was grounded in a deception that I only learned about a few days ago. I found a file in his office. Actually, no, I found a secret drawer, with special files and a burner phone I haven’t been able to hack into.”
My heart speeds up a little. I’m not sure where Lucy is going with this, and I’m already certain I’m not going to like it. “For both our sakes, maybe you should get to the punch line soon.”
“Dad set you up. My gut always told me you didn’t hurt Senator Loeb’s son as much as he said you did, but at the trial, there was all the evidence. The injuries. The eyewitness statement from the victim, identifying you as the person who broke into his home. A neighbor hearing him cry out your name. A person on the street saying they saw an angry biker with a prospect patch and bloodied knuckles leaving the apartment. Ibelieved you, but the evidence was overwhelming. And my father tapped into that. He said that, as a father who cared about his reputation and his daughter’s future, he would make sure you served the lower end of the sentencing guidelines if I divorced you and went to Harvard without you. And that, if I didn’t, he’d make sure you served the longest sentence he could make happen behind the scenes.”
“But your father wasn’t a lawyer on either side,” I say. “He couldn’t do that.”
“But don’t you see? He totally could. He has connections and influence, even more than I knew back then.” Lucy shifts so she’s facing me. “The folder in my father’s office contained proof that my father arranged everything with the Midtown Rebels. A biker from the Rebels went to Justin Loeb’s apartment and beat him up. One that looked like you, dressed like you, and had your build. The person who lived next door heard Justin yell your name because Justin thought it was you. The testimony from the first assault said his eyesight was blurry. He identified you in court, but you were who he was expecting it to be. That’s why you were held responsible for the life-changing injuries he received that night.”
“Holy fuck,” I say, tugging a hand through my hair. “I was sentenced to eight years because of this bullshit.”
“Signing the divorce papers is the reason it wasn’t sixteen.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I didn’t want you to have to serve eight years more than you had to because you defended me. He told me that, with good behavior, you could be out in four. That was twelve years less than he could make it if I said no. And he told me if I came back, he’d do everything he could to get it reviewed to give you more, or make something happen in prison to ensure your sentence grew.”
I climb out of bed and pull my jeans on, then grab a packet of cigarettes from the dresser and light one before blowing out a long stream of smoke. “So, you just fucking went?”
“I didn’t know it was all a set up. I thought I was saving you from time in prison.”
“But you thought I’d done it?”
She takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling as the first tear falls over her lashes. “I saw the evidence presented in court, so, yes, Zach. I did. You were so angry that night. We were both devastated that he’d touched me the way he did. I felt dirty in the wrong way. And I felt guilty for causing you so much rage. So many people at the event saw you punch him hard in the face. You knocked him down and threatened to kill him, until some of your brothers reined you in. You were going to prison for a long time because of me.”
I drop down on my ass by the window, back against the wall. “Why didn’t you come talk to me?”
“My father knew the judge. They golfed together. On the day of sentencing, my father told me he had a signal with the judge. If I handed him signed divorce papers and left for Harvard before the sentence was passed down, it would be light. If I was still there with the papers unsigned, it would be heavy.”
I tug at my hair. “But, Luce! I would have done the extra time if it meant you and I had still been together.”
Lucy bursts into tears. “I was nineteen. Sixteen years behind bars felt like a lifetime. I couldn’t do that to you. And I didn’t know what else my father was capable of.”
“Fuck!” The word is almost a roar.
Lucy jumps.
I try to rein myself in a little. “You should have told me. You should have sent me a note. Talked to me about it. Spoken to any of my brothers.”
“And you’d have talked me out of it.”
“Damn straight I would have. Your father had no right to interfere. And you fucked up in believing him. You fucked up in not talking to me. There were a million ways we could have worked around this. If I’d known, I could have refused to sign the divorce papers, or the two of us could have reunited straight after. Got re-married when I got out.”
She shakes her head. “Maybe I was stupid. And the power of experience has shown me every single thing I did wrong back then. I loved you with my whole fucking heart. And you hurt someone who hurt me because you loved me just as much. I couldn’t bear to see you lose a moment more of your life because of that. Divorcing you hurt me as much as it hurt you because you were the only man I ever loved with every fiber of my being. You don’t think that crushed me too?”
Words start to blur; emotions start to override one another with rapidity. She gave up on the two of us because she felt responsible for me serving time…and yet, she didn’t trust me enough to tell me.
I tug on a clean Henley and hoodie. “These papers, did they tell you who from the Midtown Rebels was involved?”
“No. Just initials. WG. But I won’t rest until I’ve gotten you justice. I promise.”
I roll the initials through my head, as I tug on my boots, until I get it.
Wes Granger, the former president of the Midtown Rebels.
“Stay here,” I say, getting to my feet. “There’s something I need to do.”
And with a racing heart, and hammering pulse, I storm out of the house.
23
LUCY
