Page 123 of The Devil's Deceit
His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath in. “Nexus wasn’t the first time I’d worked with your parents. I think it was our third or fourth project, but this one was by far the biggest. I remember your dad pitching for it, and I had my doubts he could pull off such a prestigious and complicated build. In the end, though, he convinced me he had it handled. At the time the build began, I was overwhelmed with several other projects, many of which were causing me headaches, so I pretty much left him and your mum to it.” He pauses, his unwavering gaze locked on mine. “That was my biggest mistake.”
“Why?” I whisper, the single word almost sticking in my throat.
His eyebrows draw together, and he edges a couple of inches closer to me. “Your parents were in trouble financially. I didn’t know it at the time, but after the building collapsed, I dug around into their affairs and discovered your dad had formed a gambling habit. He owed money to some… well, pretty unsavory characters.”
Flutters echo through my stomach, a horrible sense of unease crawling over my skin. “How much money?”
“A lot. He’d borrowed against every asset he owned. His business, your house. His savings were gone just keeping these guys off his back.”
“How did they hide this from us?” Or maybe just me. Did Arron know? No, he can’t have done. I’m certain he’d have told me.
“Unless you had access to their financial records, there’s no way you could’ve known. On the outside, he and Grania appeared perfectly normal. But the wolves were creeping closer to the door, so…” He blows out a steady stream of air as if he’s centering himself, preparing for the killer blow. “He began sourcing cheaper materials from… well, let’s just say they weren’t legitimate businesses. Materials that never would’ve passed the strict production standards the law demands.”
I frown. “I’m not following. How would that have helped him?”
“Because he falsified documents and invoiced me full price. I was so fucking distracted, I didn’t catch the error. If I had, none of this would’ve happened.” There’s an acidity to his voice that injects another burst of guilt into my veins.
“I’m so sorry.”
He runs a hand over his face. “No. Your parents started the ball rolling, but my inattention helped push it down the hill.” He gathers up my other hand, squeezing my fingertips. “I’m the one who’s sorry, Grace. If I’d done my fucking job, your parents wouldn’t have died.”
“And shoddy materials really made a building collapse?”
“No. I figure your mum had to alter the design to accommodate the changes, and under pressure, she made mistakes. I can’t know for sure, but that’s my best guess.”
My eyes glaze over. It’s a lot to take in. Too much. “What were they even doing there that night?”
“I don’t know.”
“And now we’ll never find out.” I pluck at a stray thread. “I presume Mum knew about Dad’s gambling debts. He’d have to have told her, right? Especially if she had to alter the building plans.”
“She knew.”
Jesus Christ.
I pull my hands from Christian’s and get up. I’m not sure why, only that standing makes me feel like I’m more in control.
“The health and safety report detailed all this, didn’t it? The one you buried.”
“Yes.” He gets up too. “I blackmailed the secretary of state to make sure the truth never came out.”
Whoa. The power this family yields is a constant surprise to me. It shouldn’t be, given what I’ve seen, but it is.
“But why? It wasn’t your fault. It was theirs.” It doesn’t occur to me to accuse him of making this up. Honesty bleeds from every pore. Despite that, it fucking hurts to think of my parents breaking the law, even if their actions had horrific consequences.
“Because…” He takes my hand again, and I let him. “I couldn’t bear the thought of their kids thinking badly of them. I lost a parent, and to me, she’s a fucking angel. A woman who can do no wrong, even though none of us are perfect. The idea of some stone-cold report coming along and ruining how you and your brother thought of your parents wasn’t something I could let happen. Not when I had the clout to do something about it.”
My vision blurs. “Oh, Christian.”
“Don’t.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “I’m not the hero in this story, Grace. I also had skin in the game. A reason to bury the truth.”
I frown. “What possible reason could you have?”
He laughs, but there’s a bitterness to it. “In this family, there’s no such thing as failure. Or so I thought at the time, and have believed for many years. The idea of sitting my family down and telling them how badly I’d fucked up was abhorrent to me. I imagined all kinds of shit coming my way: disappointment, disbelief, anger, even. Demands to know how I could’ve been so stupid, so blind to what was going on right in front of my face.”
“You really think your dad would say that to you?”
“For a long time, yeah, I did. Our beliefs are funny things, often deep rooted without evidence to back up what we so vehemently believe. I’ve always known I’m not as smart as my siblings. I feared this would simply cement that deeper in my psyche.”
