Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
PENELOPE
By the time Silas and I leave the house, my stomach feels like it learned how to tie knots by itself. Minxy’s parting wave from the couch is way too cheerful for someone who threatened to bury me earlier, and Talon’s warning to text him every ten minutes was only half a joke.
Gideon comes too, but only to sit in the backseat of Silas’ car.
Insurance, he called it. He didn’t bother hiding the fact that if things go sideways, he’s stepping in.
Otherwise, he’ll be happily staying put, organizing every scrap of evidence and documentation into neat little folders with color-coded tabs and bows for the cops.
Silas opens the passenger door for me and waits until I’m settled before circling the hood. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t try to fill the silence. He drives with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his thigh, occasionally glancing at me like he’s checking to make sure I’m still in the car.
The closer we get to the park, the more the world seems to sharpen. Trees crisp against the blue sky. Kids chasing each other on the grass. A couple walking a golden retriever. Normal life everywhere, and none of it fits with the tension buzzing between my ribs.
“You’re quiet,” Silas says.
“I’m trying not to throw up.”
“That’s fair.”
He reaches for my hand. I let him take it. His fingers wrap around mine with a steady weight that feels like a seatbelt.
“Remember,” he says, “you don’t need to give your father excuses. You don’t owe him softness either.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” he asks gently.
I stare out the window. “I guess I’ll find out.”
The park entrance comes into view. My dad’s car is already in the lot.
A sleek graphite SUV, polished to the extreme, which I know he does every weekend.
He’s leaning against the hood, arms crossed, phone in hand.
His posture says irritation. His expression says accusation.
His jaw ticks before we’ve even opened the car doors.
Silas parks two rows away.
“You ready?” he asks.
“No,” I admit.
He squeezes my hand. “Let’s go anyway.”
We step out. Dad spots us immediately, and his posture straightens, eyes narrow. He tucks his phone away and begins walking toward us.
Behind me, I hear the soft, crisp shuffle of paper—Gideon resettling his papers like he’s fluffing a pillow. He doesn’t get out. Doesn’t even look up. But I see the shadow of him in my peripheral, calm and lethal, waiting.
Just in case.
“Penelope.” Dad’s voice carries.
I swallow hard. “Hi, Dad.”
His gaze flickers to Silas, assessing, judging, already irritated. “You brought him?”
Silas stays a half-step behind me, letting me lead, but his presence radiates like a wall.
I lift my chin. “Yes.”
Dad scoffs. “Penelope, he’s your stepmother’s ex–brother-in-law. Abi warned me about him. She said he was volatile, unstable. That he was a bad influence on Dominic.”
Silas’s jaw works once, but he doesn’t rise to the bait.
“She lied,” I say.
His eyes narrow at me. “She said you were with him last night too. At that… sex club.” He spits the words like they’re toxic. “Is that true?”
Silas doesn’t flinch. “She wasn’t alone yesterday. That’s all you need to know.”
Chad ignores him and looks at me. “Care to explain why I got a phone call in the middle of the night from Abi, hysterical, saying you two accosted her in a parking lot, screaming, threatening her, accusing her of abuse? She’s distraught with Minxy missing from school, and you two when caught, decide to attack her?
That’s not like you, Penelope. It’s beneath you. ”
My pulse kicks hard. Heat crawls up my neck. I take a few steps away from the parking lot so he won’t notice Gideon and head toward a bench tucked between two trees. It only takes maybe fifteen steps before I whirl on him.
“Did she mention she locked Minxy in that school? Why, as her mother, she can’t pull her out even for your wedding? Why in the year you’ve been together you’ve never even spoken on the phone, had a Facetime, wrote a damn letter or even an email?” I ask.
He blinks once, confusion flickers. “She said you were being dramatic over not meeting Minxy. She’s in trouble at school. I can't help that you can’t meet her. I’ve not spoken to her for the same reason; she’s a bit of a troublemaker.”
Silas exhales through his nose, a controlled release of fury.
“That’s all bullshit,” I spit. “Dad, she institutionalized her.”
“That’s not what Abi said.”
“No,” I say. “Because Abi lies.”
His expression hardens. “Enough! I didn’t come here to talk about Abi or Minxy. I want to know why you were at an adult club. Why were you seen leaving with a man way older than you?”
That lands like a slap.
Silas goes still beside me.
I step forward. “Dad,” I say quietly. “I was at the adult club because I am an adult, in case you forgot. And as an adult, I have a healthy sex life. I’m safe, which is all you need to know because I’m grown.
I was there with Silas because I’m seeing him.
Actually, I’m seeing him and Gideon and Talon. I’m dating all three men.”
His face drains so fast it’s almost comical. He steps around me and drops onto the bench.
“You’re…you’re what?” he stammers. “Penelope, that’s—That’s not—You cannot be serious.”
“I’m completely serious,” I say. “And before you say anything, I’m not asking for permission.”
Dad shakes his head. “You’re seeing three men. Three. All of whom are related. Dominic’s brother and Abi’s? Talon?” His voice climbs. “This is exactly what Abi was talking about. This impulsive behavior. You’re acting out. This isn’t normal.”
Silas steps forward, but he doesn’t cut me off. He stands at my back like a quiet warning.
“This has nothing to do with Abi,” I say. “And it has nothing to do with you. It’s my life.”
He scoffs. “You want me to take you seriously? You want me to hear you about Minxy, about Abi, about anything? And you’re standing here admitting you’re in some kind of—” He waves his hands. “Group relationship?”
“Polyamory,” I correct.
He makes a strangled sound. “This is insane.”
“What’s insane,” I counter, “is trusting a woman who institutionalized her child.”
“We’re not talking about that again,” he snaps. “Abi said you only care about making her look bad because you hate that I’m moving on.”
My chest tightens. My pulse spikes.
Silas’s voice enters the conversation like a blade sliding onto the table. “You’re doing it again.”
Chad stiffens. “Doing what?”
“Choosing the version that requires the least work,” Silas says. “Abi feeds you excuses, and you swallow them because it’s easier than questioning the woman you’re about to marry.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“You didn’t ask for the truth either,” Silas says. “But you’re getting it.”
Dad’s nostrils flare as he flies to his feet. “If you think I’m going to stand here and be lectured by the man whose brother—”
I snap. “Do not finish that sentence.”
He freezes.
“You don’t get to blame Dominic for anything. You don’t get to weaponize his death. You don’t get to repeat Abi’s script like it’s truth.”
Dad looks between us, rattled.
“Dad,” I say softer, but still firm, “I’m not a child. I know whom I love. I know what’s healthy for me. I know what isn’t. Abi isn’t. And the only reason you don’t see that is because she made sure you wouldn’t.”
Silas adds, low and steady, “She’s been lying to you, your whole relationship."
Chad’s voice cracks. “Lying about what, exactly?”
I inhale.
“About Minxy,” I start. “About Talon. About how Dominic died. About the man she pays every month to keep her secrets quiet.”
His head snaps up. “What payments?”
Silas pulls his phone from his pocket and shows him the screen. “Jensen Rowe.”
Dad’s face falls, recognition.
“You know him,” I say.
“He…Abi mentioned him once or twice. Said he was an old friend. She has him do odds and ends jobs for her.”
“He’s not a friend,” Silas says. “He’s her ex and dangerous. We have good reason to believe he helped Abi stage Dominic’s death to look like a suicide. When in fact it wasn’t.”
Dad looks physically ill. “No. No, that’s… You’re accusing her of murder.”
“I’m telling you the truth,” I say. “She’s dangerous. She’s hurt every person who got in her way. She succeeded with Dominic and Todd. She almost succeeded with Minxy.”
His breathing stutters. Sweat beads at his hairline. He sinks onto the bench like his knees gave out. “I need… I need to think,” he whispers.
Silas crouches down in front of him. Not threatening, just steady.
“Think fast,” he says. “Because Abi is unraveling. And when she unravels, she’s gonna lash out at whoever’s closest.”
Dad’s eyes lift to mine. For the first time in years, he looks truly scared.
“I didn’t know,” he says quietly. “Penelope… I didn’t know any of this.”
“I know,” I whisper. “It wasn’t your fault. That’s why I’m telling you.”
He nods once. “Meet me here tomorrow. Two p.m. I need everything. Proof, records, bank statements. Whatever you have.”
“I’ll bring it,” I say.
“And Penelope?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t go near the house. Don’t go near her.”
I nod.
He stands, wobbling a little, and walks to his SUV. He gets in without another word and drives off, faster than usual, gravel spitting behind him.
I exhale a long, shaking breath.
Silas slips his arm around my waist and pulls me in until my cheek meets his chest.
“You were incredible,” he murmurs.
“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”
“You won’t.”
I look up at him. “He believed us.”
“He believed enough,” Silas says. “Enough to be dangerous. Enough to stop protecting her.”
We start walking back to the car.
“Tomorrow,” he says, “everything changes.”
“And today?” I ask.
He smirks. “Today we go home and tell the others your dad didn’t implode.”