Page 72 of Extra Dirty

She chases after me, hollering, but I ignore her as I make my way through the office door and to his desk. Over the years, I watched him, studied him every time we played chess. We spent hours together, talking about business, talking about life, talking about anything but the one thing that mattered.

He knew.

It’s all I keep thinking.

He. Knew.

Because the alternative, one in which Cat never called, never attempted to tell me we were going to have a baby, is a reality I refuse to acknowledge.

“Where is it?” I scream, opening one drawer after another.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “If it’s anything of value, it’s likely in the safe,” she says, as if she thinks I’m here to steal from them.

I’m not surprised. She likely views me as a fraud. A liar. A deceiver.

I doubt she knows about my friendship with her husband.

And I’d bet money she doesn’t know about Chloe.

“You never gave a damn about her,” I sneer.

“Who?” she asks, bringing a hand to her chest.

“Cat.You don’t see her. You don’t get her. She’s hidden herself from all of you because she knows you’d just judge her. You’re the reason she’s closed off. The reason she’s broken—”

She scoffs. “You think I don’t know about the two of you? It’s about time you look in the mirror, Mr. Hanson. The reason my granddaughter is cold and detached? You’ll find him in that reflection. Now either take what you came for or get the hell out of my house.”

“My phone,” I rasp, my voice gravel, and my heart hammering in my chest. “He had my phone.”

She sighs, then pulls her shoulders back and tips her chin up. The amount of self-control this woman must have is astonishing. She’s like a robot. “Let me check the safe.” She shuffles toward the wall safe, glaring at me and pointing. “You stay over there. If you come near me, I’ll grab the gun instead.”

I laugh at the absurdity of this conversation. It all started with a goddamn gun. Maybe if I’d just walked out of my dad’s penthouse that day, if I’d called the cops or run away with Cat myself…

But maybes can’t change things now. Maybes are good for nothing but regrets.

I nod in defeat and kick at the hardwood floor beneath me as I wait for her to check the safe.

“Is this it?” she asks, holding up an older model iPhone. The key to everything.

Once I turn it on, I can’t go back. Either way, it will hurt. I’ll either suffer through painful, desperate messages from Cat, or there will be nothing. The alternative is something so awful, I can’t even fathom.

“Yes,” I rasp, holding out my hand. I have no choice.

“I love my granddaughter, Mr. Hanson.” Mrs. James eyes me and places the device in my palm. “Whatever has you this desperate, whatever has broken you like this, she’s feeling ten times worse. So get the information you need and get your act together. Do you hear me?”

Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I give her a grim nod.

“And don’t you ever walk into this house hollering again.”

“He cost me everything. Your son and your husband, they’ve takeneverythingthat mattered from me. I’ll never forgive them.”

I step outside holding all the power. This phone was the only thing I needed from them. Theo’s had my silence for years. The dirty truths no one wanted exposed.

I think back to that day in the office when I pleaded with him to tell me the truth. And then he hit me with something I never expected.

Truths about his son.

My mother.

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