Page 80 of Beneath the Surface

I bite back the retort that’s sitting heavy on my tongue.

His eyes peer into mine, calculated, like he’s weighing his options and trying to figure out what to say. “Why did you leave?”

“Why didn’t you come find me?” I retort.

He chuckles, standing up and walking to the corner of the room, pouring himself a brandy, the smell hitting me before he even makes it back to his seat.

It’sthatsmell, that oaky, pungent scent; the type that permeates the air and sinks into your pores without even trying. It makes my stomach heave, remembering the times he’d spit his words with the stench of whiskey and disappointment on his breath.

He meanders back, sitting down, the crystal tumbler dangling from his fingertips. “You didn’t want to be found.”

My chest cramps, heart squeezing at the monotony of his voice. A leopard never changes his spots, and my father has always been an empty shell, waiting to rule the world.

“I found you the moment you left,” he continues. My breath whooshes out of me.What?

“Surprised?” He grins. “Had people tracking you from the second you packed your bag and ran away like the foolish kid you’ve always been.” He sips from his tumbler. “But… people love a sob story. So as much as it pained your mother and me, we let you go. We pulled back our guys.” He lifts a brow. “You wouldn’t have been agreeable anyway.”

I expected the callous answer, but Ididn’texpect for it to punch me in the chest, knocking the breath from my lungs and bruising my twisted heart.

“You killed my child.” I grit my teeth, my anger simmering like water in a pan. “I think I had the right.”

He rolls his eyes. “So I gave Olivia a little incentive to go get things taken care of. Big deal.” He shrugs.

“Bold stance.” I smirk. “Your constituents know you feel that way?”

His eyes flare. “You don’t worry about what myconstituentsfeel.”

“I know whatIfeel,” I burst out. Regret immediately sinks into my bones, and I pull my emotions back in, clamping them tight to my chest.

His spine straightens. “That’s always been your problem, son. Youfeeltoo much. Don’t blame me for stepping in and making sure things were taken care of.”

I scoff. “That’s rich. You didn’t care about me and you know it. You only cared about how it would make you look.”

“You’re damn right,” he snaps. “It looked bad enough having my nineteen-year-old sonengagedlike some pussy-whipped bitch.”

I huff a laugh, shaking my head. He hasn’t changed at all. “Youtoldme to marry her.”

He lifts his shoulders. “A miscalculation.” He takes another sip. “We thought it would look better in the polls.”

I grit my teeth, grief seeping through the fresh wounds on my heart. “It wasn’t your decision to make.”

“It was theonlydecision to make. Do you have any idea how it would have looked? If I can’t control my son, how can I control a country?”

My stomach churns. “Well congratulations,Dad, you lost anyway.”

His eyes narrow. “I won’t this time.”

A smirk lines my mouth, hatred flowing through my veins and making my tongue sharp. “How can you be so sure?”

He smiles wide. “Because now I have you.”

My chest rattles, confusion burning a hole through my insides. “You really don’t.”

Frank comes out of the woodwork, stepping from the shadows and into our line of sight. I should have known he was listening in the wings. It isn’t like Thomas Wells to ever have a sincere face-to-face conversation without some backup.

“Alexander, you’re a smart man,” Frank says. “Finding a lost son a decade after he went missing will be worldwide headline news. You can imagine what that will do with the voters.”

My father’s eyes sparkle. “You’re my ticket into the White House, son.”

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