Chapter 7
Ren
Iwas lost in thought watching the setting sun.
There was an endless list of people to worry about, and right now, Blake, Lip, and Ethan were at the very tippy top.
At least Ethan was okay. He had forgotten his phone in his bedroom when Theo and Blake showed up with pizza for dinner.
It had still scared the crap out of me when Myles had said that Lip’s school hadn’t been able to reach him.
If something happened to Ethan…I really didn’t know if Blake would recover.
Then I thought of poor Lip…I just didn’t understand why so many horrible things happened to the sweetest souls.
“Did ya hear me?”
I looked up at Myles and blinked. “Sorry, I’m in my…own little world. What did you say?”
Myles cupped my cheeks and gave my lips a soft kiss.
“I said that I’ll see ya after practice.”
I nodded, and he kissed the tip of my nose before he walked away and gave Rory a high-five. I had no idea Rory played lacrosse until now, as with so many other things since the accident, I felt very behind.
The wind picked up, and I took a deep breath of the cold winter air. It always felt fresher this time of year than in summer when it was so hot and sticky. Marcus and the limo were due to arrive at any minute, or I would’ve grabbed a hot chocolate and sat on a bench for a while.
“Well…I managed to avoid you for over a week. I guess I’ll count that as a win.”
Vicky stepped up beside me, and I turned to acknowledge her.
“Good to see you too, sis,” I said, and she hit me with a glare.
“Shh, don’t say that shit too loudly. I don’t want the whole school knowing that we’re related.” She looked around like someone was hiding behind the bush.
“Yes, God forbid,” I mumbled.
“Look. Just because we’re…well, you know…doesn’t mean I want to be your bff and paint each other’s nails.”
She crossed her arms and cocked her hip. The move was so quintessentially Vicky. Her bristle was always ready like a porcupine with its quills.
“I didn’t expect you to, but I was hoping that we’d…finally found a…a space where we didn’t hate one another either. That we…could start fresh.”
Therapy today was going to suck. I could feel it in my bones. It had been like this all day with the stumbling over my sentences. I was secretly worried that something was wrong. That I’d somehow slipped backward or reinjured myself.
“My mom said you’d try this,” she said, and I lifted an eyebrow at her.
“Try what?”
“Pretending you’re nice to get on my good side so you can turn me against her.”
I blew out a long, steady breath and looked down at the ground.
“What? Do you have nothing to say to that?”
“What is there to say, Vicky? You’ve chosen to believe what…whatever your mother says about me. It just gives you another excuse to…to hate me. Not that you needed any. I won’t try to convince you otherwise. If you can’t tell what type of person I am by now…then you never will.”
She opened and then closed her mouth. Whatever she was going to say was left unsaid as Nash walked up.
“Hey, is everything okay?”
He looked between us, and Vicky turned away.
“Yeah. Are you coming with me?”
He hesitated but then nodded.
“Yup, you have me all to yourself. Blake is tutoring. Theo and Liam are heading to a meeting at Ethan’s office. Until Ethan is back on his feet, Theo and Mr. Spector are trying to keep the wheels turning.”
Nash fixed his stare on Vicky.
“Are you joining us, Vicky? Or do you just like standing nearby to feel like you’re still important?”
Vicky sucked in a deep breath, and her eyes filled with fire.
“Excuse me? I’m still relevant, and I have every right to see my father.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Vicky, maybe you’ll start believing it. Do you really think he wants to see you, after you took off with that bitch you call a mother? You didn’t even have the decency to show up at Ella’s funeral.”
Vicky’s teeth ground together, but her eyes held hurt or maybe guilt. It was hard to tell with her.
“She was one of his best friends, and Ethan and his family have always treated you kindly, despite you being…well…you.”
“I didn’t know about the funeral until after. My mom didn’t tell me.”
God help me, there was some small piece of me that felt sorry for Vicky.
It had to suck being trapped like a rope between two parents who hated one another while they played tug-of-war with her emotions.
Not that Eddie meant to, but it happened naturally when you had one parent as horrible as Patricia.
“But I’m sure you sent Ethan, Theo, and Blake a condolence card. Did you offer your condolences to Ren for watching yet another parent die, or are you so self-absorbed you skipped over that, too?”
“It’s okay,” I said, grabbing Nash’s arm.
“No, it really isn’t. Someone needs to call her out on the shit she does, or she’ll end up with a bullet right between her eyes.”
“Are you threatening me?” Vicky fumed.
“Just stating facts. When everyone hates you…you never know where the knife is coming from. You no longer have the Kings as protection, you might want to remember that,” he snarled and stepped toward her.
Vicky moved away, shaking her head.
“Forget this, I don’t need this abuse,” she said, marching for the front doors of Wayward and disappearing inside.
I lifted a brow at Nash, and he gave me a half-hearted shrug with one shoulder.
“She needed to hear it. It’s not my fault she can’t handle the truth.”
“I think it’s more complicated than that.”
“Don’t care. Sue me,” he said as the SUV with the guards and the limo pulled up.
There was zero point in arguing with him, and right now, I didn’t know if I should even bother.
Vicky was…overly complicated, and I already had my share of issues, like finishing school and making sure that all the people I loved were going to be okay.
Marcus hopped out and opened the door of the limo.
“Just you two?”
“Yeah, now,” I said.
Nash rolled his eyes. Marcus’s eyebrows drew together in obvious confusion, but he didn’t ask what I meant.
I got in and waved to Mo, who was sitting beside the driver. He gave me a small smile and lifted his hand in return.
“You want the divider up,” Mo asked.
“Yes,” Nash said.
“No,” I said at the same time. We looked at one another.
“Fine, it can go up,” I grumbled, making Nash smirk.
Despite the giant car and only the two of us, Nash held me close to his side like he was part Velcro. I leaned into him, and my eyes quickly became heavy.
But in typical Nash fashion, before I fell asleep, he whispered in my ear.
“One of these days, I’m going to fuck you on this seat, Princess.”
The corner of my mouth tugged up. I didn’t doubt that.
Edmundo
“This makes no sense,” I said aloud as I went over the bank statements.
It was one chore that I still hated doing. I’d seen too many times what greed and opportunity could do, and I refused to leave this work to anyone else full-time. My hope was to hand all of this over to Ren and…Nash, or was it all five guys?
Sitting back, I stared at the wall and had no idea how to handle that particular situation. If they wanted to be in Ren’s life, they needed to be productive in something. But did that mean that they all had to work under the Genovese umbrella? That was a problem for another day.
Shaking my head, I looked down at the tiny baffling numbers.
These accounts were all tied to the investments and businesses that I’d helped Ana set up years ago.
I’d kept them separate to ensure that one day I could hand this piece of Ren’s legacy over to her as a gift from her mother.
They’d grown exponentially with some care, but the statement showed that the account was almost wiped clean at the beginning of December.
Then, early this month, the money was returned with an extra half billion.
Bugs happened, glitches happened, computers and technology were what they were, but this…it was truly unusual. Millions didn’t just go missing, and then like magic reappear with a massive bonus.
The truth eluded me, and I came up with two viable options.
Either there was a bank error, in which case they would have to explain how it happened and apologize profusely, or…
someone hacked the account, stole the money, and then put it back with more to make it look like I was doing something shady.
Neither seemed overly realistic, but there was no other explanation.
Giving up, I grabbed my phone and called the bank manager, despite it being 1 a.m. in Rome. Luckily, I had so much money with them that I had a direct line to his cell. It also meant that I didn’t have to sit through the endless loop of pushing numbers only to be disconnected.
“Buongiorno, Banca Nazionale di Roma, come posso aiutarla,” Mr. Valentino asked, his voice groggy with sleep.
“Mr. Valentino, it’s Edmundo Genovese,” I said firmly.
“Mr. Genovese, it is a pleasure as always. I’m sorry, I didn’t expect a call at this hour. How can I help you?”
I stood from my desk and walked over to the window that looked out over the driveway.
“I wanted to inquire about some transactions on two of my accounts. I find the discrepancies baffling to say the least.”
“Oh my. I’ll pull your account up. This will take a few moments. I need to turn on the computer.”
My impatience grew with each passing second. Then I heard the distinct sound of clicks from a keyboard.
“I have it pulled up now. I see here that your investment has gone extremely well. What is your concern?”
My investment?
“My statement shows that the account was wiped of all but a few hundred thousand at the beginning of December, but now the money is back with a substantial amount added. Can you please explain?”
There was dead silence on the other end of the line before Mr. Valentino cleared his throat.
“I’m not sure I understand the question. We did what we were instructed to do,” he said, and I tapped my finger on the wooden frame of the window.
“Instructed?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
The additional clicking normally wouldn’t bother me, but for some reason, the sound was grating on my nerves.
“It says here that it was Mrs. Mikhailov.”
My heart stopped in my chest for a beat, and all I could do was blink.
“I’m sorry, did you say Mrs. Mikhailov? As in the Mrs. Mikhailov,” I asked, like a parrot stuck on one word.
“Um…yes. The banker’s note says that she came into the branch office on November twenty-fifth to initiate a large withdrawal, and then returned January eighth to redeposit the initial amount, plus the returns on your investment.”
What the hell was happening?
“You said she visited the bank?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Mr. Genovese. Is there something wrong? You sound very perplexed.”
How could I possible tell this man that a dead woman was the one to come into the bank? It made no sense. Was someone masquerading as Yuliana Mikhailov?
In a desperate attempt to cling to hope and the possibility of a future, I’d never removed Ana’s name from the accounts we had opened together in our rebellious youth. Closing them had seemed so final, and I hadn’t been ready to pull that trigger.
But this…this was some sick joke.
“Mr. Valentino, I will need you to send me the security feed from both days.”
The front gates slowly opened as the limo holding Ren arrived.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Genovese, but—”
“No. This is non-negotiable. I don’t care what hoops you must jump through to make it happen, but you will.
Or my next call will be to close every account I have with you, forever.
If you fail to provide that footage, you may find yourself looking for a new job.
I want the file in the next forty-eight hours, or else. ”
I hung up before he could argue any further. My heart pounded like a drum in my chest. Was this some sort of sick joke that Patricia was playing? No, that seemed unlikely. Patricia would take the money and run. She wouldn’t return with more.
Could Ana somehow be alive? It seemed just as improbable, considering I couldn’t see her staying away from Ren all this time, and yet…
There was a soft knock at the door, and Ren poked her head inside.
“Hello, my beautiful daughter. It is so good to see you.”
She crossed the room and gave me a hug.
“I’m here for therapy. Are we…still good for dinner after,” she asked, and my smile broadened.
“Of course, reginette. It’s underway and will be ready as soon as you’re done. Did Victoria come with you?”
Ren shook her head. “No, she stayed at school.”
“Oh…okay then. I will try to connect with her later.”
“I’d better get to therapy,” Ren said.
“Yes, of course. Go, go. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
As soon as I was sure she was out of earshot, my smile fell.
I didn’t dare tell Ren my crazy suspicions.
She’d been through far too much already.
Even if I believed there might be a chance that Ana was alive, it would be cruel to tell Ren, especially if it all turned out to be someone setting me up for money laundering. No, she couldn’t know.
My gaze locked on Nash, and his eyes grew wide as he swallowed hard.
“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it this time,” he said.
“Close the door, we need to talk.”