16. Roman
ROMAN
“ U ncle M, your long-lost son’s arrived.”
I bristle at the words. Lost is a generous definition.
“Come in,” my dad’s gruff voice calls out.
Rosalie and Merrick have wandered off somewhere, and Benjamin swings open the door, waving his arm through the air as if he’s giving me permission to walk inside.
When I do, I meet my father’s gaze for the first time in four years, and just like his voice did on the phone, the warmth on his face catches me off guard.
He’s dressed down, and his hands are poised over a keyboard, halted in midair like the sight of me has frozen him solid. Slowly, he thaws, a small smile tilting the edges of his mouth.
“Roman. You’re here.”
I move forward, not sure how to navigate the situation. I expected aloofness, and he’s giving me the opposite. I take a seat in front of his desk, arching a brow. “Isn’t this where you told me to be?”
He doesn’t reply right away, just watches me as he leans back in his chair, his hand rubbing at his chin. He looks the same as he did four years ago but older. His blond hair is tinged with white, and his frown lines are deeper. His face is a little more haunted, maybe. Gaunt, even.
“I wasn’t sure you’d take me up on the offer,” he admits.
“I wasn’t sure if I would, either,” I reply. “Considering it took you twenty-three years to make it.”
Something flashes in his gaze, and his mouth tightens. “You’re angry with me.”
My chest squeezes. Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and stare at him unwaveringly. “I’m not sure there’s a word in the English language that describes how I feel.”
“That’s fair.” He nods like he understands. Like what he did wasn’t the foundational experience that formed my life and how I live it. “But you’re here anyway.”
“I’m here anyway,” I echo.
“And you’re planning to stay?”
Tumultuous emotions run rampant through me, but I grit my teeth and nod. “Do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice.”
That’s bullshit. The fact he’s creating some illusion now is laughable.
You’re doing this for Brooklynn , I remind myself.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
He hums and bobs his head.
“Why do you even have me coming back here? What’s your angle? It can’t just be because you want to parade me around like a long-lost son, is it?”
I use the same words Benjamin did intentionally, gauging my father’s reaction.
“You are my son,” he retorts in a harsh tone. “That’s not a parade, it’s a fact.”
“One you sent away with a fake name and a mom holding a bottle of oxy for the pain.”
Stupid. I hadn’t meant to word-vomit everything, but I don’t see a point to keeping it all in. If I’m here, then I want to know why, and I deserve the gritty details, even if I’ll hate hearing about them.
Shock coasts through his gaze. “I didn’t have a choice about sending you away. It was the right decision, and I won’t apologize for it.”
I scoff, looking away from him, but my mother’s words from the other day play in the back of my mind. Tales of attempted murder and tampered brakes.
His chair creaks as he leans forward. “Whether or not you believe me, I’ve always had your best interest at heart.”
My heart stutters, but I grit my teeth.
“If your mother had warned me you were coming to visit all those years ago, I could have handled things more delicately.”
“What, because you didn’t want anyone to see us and find out about your mistakes?” I spit out, my gaze narrowed.
He frowns. “Because I could have protected you better.”
“So, you’re saying it wasn’t a complete accident then?” I lift my chin, swallowing over the knot in my throat.
My father steeples his fingers and gives me a sad smile. “Men will do many things when they’re blinded by greed and anger.”
I snort. “That’s a nice line, but it doesn’t answer my question.”
“For years, I convinced the Calloways the Montgomery line would end with me. Craig is in bed with some…less-than-savory people, and I had no interest in bringing you around when you weren’t old enough to make the choice.
When your mother brought you here on a whim, Craig realized you existed, and I did what I had to do to ensure that no other attempts on your life would be taken. ”
My world tilts on its axis. “So…what, this whole time you’ve been protecting me?”
“You’re my flesh and blood. The only one capable of carrying on my legacy.
I needed to keep you safe from him until you were old enough to hold your own.
This town…” He shakes his head. “It isn’t for the weak.
We have to play our cards right or else everything will be stolen from us. It already is being stolen from us.”
He uses us so easily, as though I’ve always been a part of him. And if I have, well then, that’s news to me. My teeth clench so tightly, my jaw aches.
I’m not sure if I believe him.
I want to, though.
Badly.
Sniffing, I crack my neck. “And now I’m old enough to hold my own?”
He blinks. “Now…you’re old enough to have the choice.”
His words are arrows dipped in poison, spreading through my veins like branches on a tree. They smack against the old bruise he left when I tried to come here as a nineteen-year-old, begging for him to recognize that just because he wanted me to play dead didn’t mean I actually was .
“I don’t understand how things can change, how you go from one end of the spectrum to the other. You didn’t want me here, and now you do? It doesn’t track.”
“Frederick’s been on me for months,” he admits. “Thinks you need to be here to make a statement.”
My brows furrow, trying to place the name. “The man who saw me last time I was here?”
He nods. “My lawyer. He’ll be thrilled you’ve returned just in time for the Founders’ Gala.”
I make a face. “I don’t really have any interest in that.”
“Tough shit. If you’re here, you’ll play the part. Representing the Montgomery name at the biggest annual event in the town is the part.”
His tone leaves no room for argument, so even though the retort burns in my throat, I swallow it down.
For Brooke.
“I don’t want to live here at the manor with you,” I state.
“That’s fine. I own plenty of property in the HillPoint. We’ll set you up somewhere private.”
“And I don’t want to work at your shitty construction company,” I add. “Or any of the others. I don’t know the first thing about running a business.”
“You won’t need to. Not right now, anyway.” He shrugs. “But one day you’ll be expected to take it over, so get used to the idea.”
“Great,” I say, my tone flat.
“Good.” My father grins. “I’ll expect you to stay the night, at least. Freddy will be here in the morning with the papers.”
“What papers?”
“The ones that will make you a Montgomery again. Officially.”
Frederick Lawrence is an older man, mid-fifties maybe, with graying hair at his temples. He wears checkered argyle socks, shiny brown shoes that click when he walks, and a hat that reminds me of the 1940s gangsters in the movies.
Apparently, he’s my father’s most trusted confidant, despite him also being the attorney for the Calloways.
How the hell Frederick worked that out, I have no clue.
“So, what is it I’m looking at?” I peer at the papers in front of me.
“This is a trust agreement,” Frederick says.
“Yours, more specifically. It outlines your shares in the Montgomery Organization, as well as the assets your father has allocated to you. It also has a stipend you’ll receive monthly, with the entirety of funds and shares in the Montgomery Organization being released to you on either your twenty-fifth birthday or should something happen to your father. ”
I swallow. There’s about to be more wealth at my fingertips than I could even dream of, and the knowledge makes me feel sick to my stomach.
“Do I need to sign it?” I ask.
Frederick smiles and shakes his head. “Nope, it’s always been in place. The only thing you need to sign is the petition to have your name changed back legally.”
I furrow my brows. “How long does that take?”
Frederick glances at my father. “I’ve got some friends who owe me favors that will push it through.”
Blowing out a breath, I lean forward and grab a pen, signing my name where he directs me.
“There is one more thing for you to sign, actually.” He pushes another pile of papers toward me.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“An agreement. If you leave Rosebrook Falls, or if you pass away, then you forfeit your inheritance.”
“Why the hell would I sign that?”
Frederick chuckles. “It’s just added insurance, really, to make sure you don’t come here for a few weeks, get bored, and decide to head out again, taking everything with you.”
I scoff. “So if I’m gone, and he dies…” I point to my father. “Who gets the money?”
My father clears his throat. “It would go into Freddy’s name so he can disburse everything back into the town.”
My brows rise. “I don’t know why you think I’d want to sign that.”
“Because the second you do, I’ll put this trust in place,” my father states, nodding toward his lawyer.
A new page slides across the desk, and this one has Brooklynn’s name. Her real name.
Harper Argent.
“Your sister’s trust.”
My lungs collapse then expand, something deep inside me rattling loose.
Is it that easy?
“You’d give her this, even though she isn’t yours?” I ask.
He shrugs. “If she’s important to you, then she’s important to me.”
“Why haven’t I had this trust the entire time again?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at my father.
“You did,” he said. “I’ve had this in place for you since you were born. But your mother…”
He trails off, looking to the side.
“My mother what ?”
“I couldn’t allow a paper trail. You have to understand, all of this was to try and shield you. I shouldn’t have even let her keep my phone number.”
I rub my temples, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. “And now you’re using it as a bartering tool.”
“Things are never in black and white, Roman,” Frederick says, standing up straight and clapping me on the back. “Unless you’re planning on dying or running off, you have nothing to worry about. And neither will your sister.”
“Why now?” I ask. “Why did you agree so willingly? And don’t give me the ‘my choice’ bullshit. There’s something else here.”
Sorrow passes through my father’s gaze. “I’m sick.”
His words hit me like a sledgehammer, but I mask the look on my face. “You look fine to me.”
He grimaces. “Prostate cancer, unfortunately. Stage four. It’s in my bones. My liver. My brain.”
I sit with the words for a few moments, but I’m not sure what to say. What to do. I hadn’t expected this. Should I feel sorrow? Grief? Will I miss him? I don’t think so. How do you miss a person you’ve never really known?
I’ve mourned the loss of my father for years. This is nothing new.
My father leans forward, and I take in how pallid his skin is. How his frame is lean and frail beneath his outfit. How there are bags under his eyes that make him look like he’s been running from something for years and is tired of the fight.
“I want to give you my legacy.”
My back hits the chair, and I exhale heavily, running a hand through my hair. “This is…this is a lot. How long do you have?”
He lifts a shoulder and shares a heavy look with Frederick. “We’re not sure. Months, maybe?”
“Do people know?”
Another look with Frederick. “No.”
I think about my mom, and I wonder if this will be the thing that sends her over the edge. I’ve seen her at what I thought was rock bottom, but there’s a new fear brewing. If the man she’s been obsessively in love with for my entire life is dead…there might be farther to fall.
“I want Brooke’s trust to go to her immediately. None of this ‘once she’s twenty-five’ bullshit. You give her the funds. You get her health insurance. You auto pay it every year. That’s the deal, or I’ll leave and never look back.”
It’s a risk to make demands from my situation, but if they want me here as badly as they say, then I have some bartering power.
“Done,” my father agrees.
Frederick places a large hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “This is a good thing, I think.”
Blowing out a breath, I resign myself to my fate, my eyes skimming over the trusts that will be put in place for both me and my little sister.
As long as I stay, that’s the deal.
I sign the papers. And just like that, my fate is sealed.