Page 67 of Betraying Family Vows
I glance at the clock. I've been down here nearly twenty minutes. Long enough for Athena to have finished showering. Long enough for her to have started digging through Cosmo's files.
I should check on her. See what she's found.
As I stand, my gaze falls on the family photo on the desk, the last one taken before my mother died. All of us together. Happy, or at least pretending to be. The Kastaris family, united.
Soon, I'll have to explain why I've brought an outsider into our domain. Why I've put my faith in the daughter of our enemy.
But right now, I just need to focus on keeping Athena safe and getting close to finding out who "S" is. I also need to figure out why, despite everything, I can't seem to regret bringing her here.
I head for the door, ready to face whatever's waiting upstairs. Whatever's coming for us.
Because, ready or not, there's going to be lots of death and destruction before this is all over. And so help me God, if anyone tries to take her from me or harm her in any way, I'll burn the fucking world down to get her back.
22
ATHENA
The screen unlocks instantly. My chest tightens with a rush of hope, like this could be the moment I finally matter in all this chaos. That I could actually help.
Thirty minutes later, that feeling is almost gone.
I've been digging through dozens of neatly organized folders, one after the other. My father's name and signature are everywhere, but every document is corporate crap.
Board meeting minutes. Quarterly reports. Real estate holdings for Greek Spartan Holdings, and proposals that read like they were written by someone trying to cure insomnia.
"Come on," I say, rubbing my eyes. "There has to be something."
I know my father.
Not well. Not the way a daughter is supposed to. But well enough to understand he never left anything out in the open unless he wanted it to be found. He made a career of hiding truths behind fake smiles. He hid me, didn't he? For twenty-five years, I was nothing but a rumor, a liability he visited behind closed doors.
If there were secrets worth killing for, they wouldn't be sitting in a folder labeled "SECRETS" waiting to be discovered. That's not how he operated.
But this, this polished collection of meaningless records and folders, it's too neat.
I shake my head as I click into another directory. Same bullshit. I rub my forehead, feeling that familiar emotion of frustration and self-loathing. Like I'm a fool for even thinking I'd find something real.
What was I thinking? That I could just waltz in here and crack some code that professional criminals couldn't? That somehow being his daughter gave me special insight?
I'm an idiot. A naive girl playing detective. Trying to matter. If my mom was here, I know exactly what she'd say.
Don't be dramatic, Athena. Men don't respect hysterics.
I slam the laptop shut, then immediately reopen it, annoyed at my own childishness.
Focus.
I dig deeper, checking system files, looking for hidden folders. Nothing.
I close out the last folder and glance at the Recycle Bin icon. I click it.
Leaning in, I can't believe what I'm seeing.
Over five hundred files appear. Deleted, but not wiped.
I organize everything alphabetically and start scanning through them. Pages of corporate jargon, receipts, travel itineraries. Mundane, until?—
HSPayHim1.pdf
