1. Grayson
1
GRAYSON
W ith one hand wrapped around the handle to keep the front door from opening, I blink stupidly at my father. My father, who is standing on my front stoop, even though he’s supposed to be in prison for another sixty-seven days.
Yeah, I’ve been counting. Although, perhaps I shouldn’t have been avoiding visiting him, or I’d have known he was being released early instead of being blindsided first thing in the fucking morning.
“So?” He arches his brow in that arrogant way of his when I don’t respond to whatever he said. What the fuck did he just say? Oh yeah, some bullshit about getting the entire family back together—what the hell that even means. “Are you going to invite me inside?”
Fuck no.
Hoping my shock is entirely explained by his unexpected appearance at my door and not his uncanny timeliness after last night’s botched Save Aurora plan, I paste on a fake as fuck smile.
“You know what? I was just on my way out to get a coffee. Why don’t you join me?” I surreptitiously pat my pockets. I definitely don’t have my wallet, but thankfully, I have my phone with my cards loaded onto it.
My father’s gaze drops, his lips pursing in disapproval at the gray sweats and black undershirt I’m wearing. Yeah, this isn’t my ideal going-out outfit either, but it’s not like I’m going to change and leave my father standing here, risking him running into one of the guys—or worse, Riley.
Uncaring, I stuff my feet into a pair of trainers tossed haphazardly by the door. That’ll be Logan’s doing, and the shoes are a size bigger than mine, but that’s the last thing I care about right now.
With a forced smile directed at my father, the door snicks shut behind me, and side by side, we walk down the street toward the corner coffee shop.
He’s silent while we walk, which gives my brain time to catch up to the reality that my father is a free man—walking casually down the street like he hasn’t served a sentence behind bars for the last four years.
Like he shouldn’t still be locked behind those bars.
Like he isn’t a menace to society—or, more accurately, a direct threat to the broken woman I just left passed out between my two best friends after a night of crying because we failed to bring her daughter home.
There’s a tightness in my chest at our failure. We tried so hard to spare Riley from this pain. Now, not only does she have to deal with the loss of her daughter, but I’m going to have to break the news of my father’s release. Just thinking about adding more to her overloaded plate has my stomach twisting. Except, I can’t focus on that right now.
Dragging my hand down my face, I push aside my exhaustion. I need to be on my game for this conversation with my father. If he’s on my doorstep at the ass crack of dawn, he’s here with a reason in mind.
Side-eyeing him, I ask, “Were you just released this morning or…”
“This morning.” My father grins at me. “My first stop was seeing my son.” Lifting a hand, he squeezes my shoulder, a gesture I once would have viewed fondly—a father-son bonding moment—but now, as his fingers dig into my trapezius muscle, I see it for what it truly is: a passive-aggressive display of control.
The blinders I’ve been wearing when it comes to my father are damaged beyond repair, and in their place is so much anger I can barely withstand it, along with a hefty amount of self-disgust that I allowed myself to be blinded when it came to him. The potent mixture is toxic, poisoning my veins every waking moment. If I weren’t so selfish, I’d give Riley up, knowing she deserves far better than me. But I am my father’s son. I’m not a good man. Riley is mine, and there isn’t a goddamn thing on this planet that will stand in the way of that—including my father.
“Since you haven’t been to the prison recently.”
Aaand another manipulative talon slices into me, this time in the form of guilt.
“Sorry.” Not . “Senior year,” I give by way of explanation. “It really is as brutal as everyone says.”
My father chuckles, a charismatic laugh that immediately ingratiates people to him. Now, I realize it’s part of his repertoire—a skillset he uses to distract people from seeing the contemptible soul beneath his polished veneer.
“Everything will be easier now. We can be a family once again.”
That’s the second time he’s referred to family, and my brows furrow, trying to read between the lines as we enter the coffee shop. The place is empty, too early yet for the morning rush before work and classes. I’m fortunate that anywhere was even open at this hour.
We place our orders, and I pay for our drinks before we sit at a table at the back of the cafe where we won’t be disturbed.
“What do you mean we can be a family again? ” I ask, eyeing him over the rim of my espresso cup. God knows the double shot I ordered will barely hit the exhaustion and stress already riding me hard today.
Blowing on his black coffee, he gives me a sly grin as he slowly sets his cup down, prolonging the suspense.
“I mean , we can all finally be a family again. The four of us—you, me, Lydia, and your sister, Riley.”
“Stepsister,” I quip, unsure why I’m focusing on that . Probably because it’s the only aspect of that entire sentence that doesn’t make me want to throw my steaming cup in his face. “I thought you and Lydia were divorced?”
My father’s brows furrow. “What gave you that impression?”
Aware I’m treading in shark-infested waters, I shrug casually. “I just assumed, you know, given the allegations…”
This time, my father’s laugh is dipped in arrogance. “Lydia knows there was no substance to those accusations. We both agree Riley was going through a difficult time—struggling to adjust to her new life and no longer having all of her mother’s attention and affection.”
I practically choke on my next sip. I’m certain Lydia isn’t capable of motherly affection, nor would Riley want to be the focus of her mother’s attention. Even if Lydia wasn’t a narcissistic bitch, Riley isn’t—nor was she ever—the type of girl who demanded attention.
“We decided that while I was…” my father grimaces before spitting out in distaste, “ incarcerated , Lydia would live her life, focusing on giving Riley everything she needed. Now that I’m released, we’ve agreed to give this another try. To focus on our family .”
I tense at the emphasis he puts on the word family. It’s clear this isn’t purely about him and Lydia—it’s about the four of us, and the coffee burns a hole through my stomach at the notion of Riley being anywhere near either of them.
Unaware of my rampant thoughts, my father graces me one of his winning smiles. “I’ve asked Lydia to move in with me, and I’ve arranged for the four of us to have dinner on Saturday. You’ll be there.”
It’s not a question.
Knowing there is no other response, I give a curt nod. However, my thoughts are a million miles away—well, not that far. They’re down the street inside the brownstone where the devastated woman who has become my obsession is currently sleeping and wondering if this news will be the nail in the coffin of her sanity.
How thinly can you be stretched before you snap?
How much pain can a soul endure?
How many scars can a heart carry before breaking?
Wherever that boundary lies, I can sense Riley teetering on its edge. She’s already traversed the unfathomable, overcoming trials that would shatter most. She’s fashioned her trauma into armor, resilient and unyielding, but recent events have left it marred and vulnerable. Each blow has chipped away at the sturdy facade she’s built. I fear this latest revelation—this expectation of my father’s—may deliver the fatal strike, shattering her carefully forged defenses beyond repair.
My father makes small talk while we finish our drinks. Frankly, I’m not listening to a word he’s saying. I nod and smile at all the right times, but otherwise, I’m absent from the conversation.
The longer I sit there, the more unbearable the itch to get away from him becomes. Simply being in his presence sickens me, knowing the truth of everything. I can’t even think about my mother’s journal, or the indifferent facade I’ve donned will fracture. It’s taking every ounce of willpower to sit here civilly and play this game with him.
However, as tempting as it would be to call him out. It wouldn’t do any good to scream and shout and tell him I know exactly who he is. There is already enough to deal with, and getting on my father’s bad side is not somewhere you want to be. Better to appeal to him and figure out what game he’s playing because you can bet your ass I’m not buying this happy family bullshit he’s spouting.
With a final reminder to be at the restaurant on time on Saturday night, I parted ways with my father. Finally. Turning toward my front door, I notice the curtain in the living room window twitch, and I shake my head, knowing Logan has been spying. Likely, the three of them are anxious to know what’s happening. Not that I can blame them.
However, when I step inside, it isn’t Logan standing there but a starkly pale and timid Riley. Dressed in a pair of Royce’s sweats and a Huskies jersey that swamps her slim frame, her arms are wrapped around her middle as though she’s literally holding herself together. As the door closes behind me, her wide, fear-ridden eyes lift to mine, and I can’t help but feel a pang of concern for her.
My gaze flicks to the hallway behind her, surprised that Logan or Royce aren’t hovering nearby. That they’d leave her alone in her state.
“Where are the others?” I ask in a carefully neutral tone.
Her teeth sink into her lower lip, and her voice is weak, worn out, and exhausted beyond belief when she says, “They went to shower and get dressed. We…” She glances away, inhaling a shaky breath before hesitantly sliding her gaze back to mine. Terror has her pupils dilated, eliminating any of the captivating green of her irises. “Grayson, w-was that really your dad? Logan wasn’t sure…”
The same extreme tiredness pouring out of her crashes through me, and I stumble forward. My chest collides with hers, and bending, I grasp the back of her thighs and haul her into my arms. She goes without complaint, her toned thighs squeezing my hips as her arms wrap around my neck.
I carry her into the kitchen and set her on the countertop before collapsing into her. My forehead rests on her shoulder, and now that I’m no longer faced with my father, I release a shuddering exhale. I feel like I’m in shock, my limbs shaking after the unexpected confrontation. Of having to face him for the first time since finding out what he did to Riley. To my mother.
Since learning the truth about the truly heinous piece of shit who makes up half my DNA.
As if sensing I’m on the brink of losing it, Riley squeezes me tighter. Her legs wrap around my middle, and she buries her face in the crook of my neck as her fingernails dig into my shoulders.
The two of us united in our grief. In our desolation.
Regardless of the shit I’ve put her through, of the unresolved issues between us, in this, we are allied.
She’s the only person on this planet who understands the hatred I feel toward my father. The only other person who knows what it’s like to be pinned and helpless beneath his manipulation.
Neither of us says anything, soaking up the other’s comfort until what sounds like a herd of elephants comes trampling down the stairs.
I slide out of Riley’s comforting embrace as Logan appears in the doorway, stopping as his gaze darts between us. His hair is damp from a shower, and he’s dressed casually in loose-fitted shorts and a t-shirt. One look at our faces, and he knows. “Fuck,” he hisses, his features twisted in a grimace. “I was really hoping I was wrong.”
Royce silently steps into view, dressed in his typical all-black attire. His expression is locked down; however, his piercing blue eyes are solely on Riley. Assessing. I can’t blame him, especially knowing that I’m about to destroy the last of her sanity.
I glance at her from the corner of my eye, hating the dark circles under her eyes and her ashen complexion, which makes the freckles dotting the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose stand out.
“So, your dad is out,” Royce states. My eyes snap to him, finding him watching me. I nod.
“Bought his way out early,” I explain before anyone can ask.
Logan frowns before marching across the kitchen and scooping Riley into his arms. He then moves to sit on a bar stool at the kitchen island, holding her protectively in his lap.
As if he’s now mentally prepared to have this conversation, his hard gaze meets mine over her head, which is tucked beneath his chin. “What did he want?”
Royce moves too, standing on the opposite side of the island where he can see Riley’s face and read her every thought while being close enough in case she needs him.
My gaze connects with Riley’s, unblinking as I rip off the Band-Aid. “Spouting some bullshit about all of us being a family again.”
She physically flinches as though my words slapped her.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Logan snaps, riled up, and I haven’t even gotten to the worst part.
Leaning against the counter behind me, I cross my arms over my chest, keeping my focus on the woman in Logan’s lap. “Apparently, your mom and my dad are still married and are moving in together now that he’s out of prison.”
Riley’s nose scrunches in distaste, and I notice Royce straighten at the news.
“So they wanna play house; what does that have to do with either of you?” Logan asks, confused.
It’s barely perceptible, but Riley stiffens. Just when I thought she couldn’t get any paler, what little color was in her cheeks drains. “He wants to get back what he had before his arrest.”
Logan scoffs, however his expression is fierce as his arms tighten around Riley. “You’re not teenagers anymore. It’s not like he can demand you live under the same roof as him.”
I shake my head, sighing. “I’m not entirely sure what he’s up to, but he’s up to something.” Deciding to just get it over with, I blurt, “He wants the four of us to sit down for some fucked up version of family dinner at a restaurant on Saturday.”
“Well, that’s not fucking happening,” Logan snaps before Riley can say anything. “Over my dead fucking body is that sick fuck going anywhere near my Shortcake.”
Riley shakes her head, a fierceness entering her expression for the first time since Royce and Logan walked empty-handed into the house last night and ripped her heart to shreds. “I don’t give a shit about some twisted family dinner. My daughter is missing.” She chokes over the words. “Nothing else matters except finding her.”
I nod in complete agreement before my gaze slides to Royce. “You’re quiet.”
He scrubs his hand over the dusting of scruff along his jaw. “I think the timing makes a lot of sense,” he muses aloud. “Lydia was clearly trying to get Aurora out of the picture before your dad was released—whether or not she knew he was getting out earlier than we expected.”
“You think Bertram has no idea Aurora exists?” Logan questions, brows furrowed in thought. “That Lydia kept that secret from him?” His eyes widen. “Damn, that would be something.”
“I think she’s incredibly insecure,” Royce states. “In her mind, she lost him once to Riley. She would definitely be concerned about the same thing happening again.” Royce’s attention shifts to me. “And if he and Lydia have been in contact this entire time, it could explain how he knew Riley was at Halston. I can’t imagine Lydia being eager to give him information on Riley, but if he asked, she might have handed it over.”
“The Christmas card,” Riley gasps.
Royce nods.
“So what, Lydia—because I refuse to refer to that woman as my mother given what she’s done—” Riley sneers, “has been waiting for Bertram to be released so she can get her old life back? If she knew Aurora would become a… problem… why fight to have custody of her at all?”
“For control. A bargaining chip. To keep you in line, and in case Bertram decided he was done with her,” Royce supplies. All theories, of course, but given what we know about Lydia, it stacks up. Even if it is all incredibly fucked up.
On the plus side, instead of breaking her further like I thought this conversation might, a furious spark has ignited in Riley’s eyes. They’re still dim and lifeless, but her depression has been overshadowed by anger—an emotion I’m all too familiar with using as a crutch.
“So what do we do now?” Logan asks the pinnacle question. “We could go to Lydia and demand information on the buyer.”
Riley recoils at his words, and he grimaces, pressing a quick kiss to her shoulder.
“I’m going to The Depot to talk to Dax and get his tech guy to look into it. See if he can find anything,” Royce states. “I think we should hold off on interrogating Lydia just yet. Riley isn’t supposed to know that anything is wrong with Aurora. If we go asking questions now, it will only raise her suspicions as to how we know. Let’s keep it quiet while I look into it.” Staring at Riley, he says, “You could call your mo—Lydia—if you’re up to it. Ask to talk to Aurora.”
“We usually only talk on the weekends, but yeah, I can do that,” Riley agrees. Her voice comes out strong, but the anxiety in her eyes belies her true feelings.
“What do the rest of us do?” Logan asks, glancing my way.
Sighing, I scrape my hand through my hair. “With my dad out, I need to go into the office. I don’t trust him not to start pulling strings behind my back, and I’d been putting off informing everyone of his release… guess I can’t do that any longer.”
“Guess Riley and I will have a Netflix and chill day, then,” Logan says with a frown.
Riley shakes her head. “I can’t sit around this house and do nothing. It’s a school day. I’m going to class. Or at least to campus. I just… I can’t sit here. I’ll drive myself crazy wondering…” She tears up before sucking in a steadying breath and turning to Logan. “I’m going to campus if you wanna come.”
“Like I’d let you go alone,” he murmurs, cupping her cheek before pressing an affectionate kiss to her temple.
With that decided, everyone goes their separate ways to prepare for the day ahead. Not at all looking forward to breaking the news to my shareholders and staff, I head for a shower and to get dressed.