Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
TOBIAS
“I’m telling Dad about the Southalls today.”
Rebecca looks up from where she’s untangling Isla’s hair, pausing mid brush. Her eyes flare wide, eyebrows lifting by a few millimeters. She finishes with Isla by tying her hair in a ponytail and sending her off to her room to pick out what clothes she wants to wear today.
Since she rediscovered her speech, Isla’s become quite opinionated about her clothing choices.
I think it’s hilarious, especially as most of the time she looks like she got dressed in the dark.
Rebecca is less thrilled with having a four-year-old demand to wear orange polka dot tights with a stripy bright green and red top.
“Any reason for the sudden change of heart?”
“I talked to Lilian about it yesterday. She helped me put it in perspective. He deserves to know, and honestly, I need to get it off my chest. Now that the George and Alice situation is settled, I don’t feel like I’m adding more woes to his pile.
I don’t want to put it off any long. Dad deserves to know what I’ve been dealing with.
I’ve never kept things from my father, and the truth feels like a burn I can’t treat until I tell him everything. ”
She comes over to me and adjusts my tie, then smooths her hands down the front of my shirt. “I’m so glad you’ve come to this conclusion. Your father is an amazing man. He’d want to know what you’ve been shouldering.”
“I’m nervous. Isn’t that silly?”
She stands on tiptoes and kisses my cheek. “Far from silly.”
I brace my hands on her hips and join our foreheads. “You’d support me whatever I said, wouldn’t you?”
“On most subjects. If I disagreed, I’d tell you. But on this particular matter, I’m led completely by you. I would never push you into doing something you weren’t comfortable with. These absolute horrors put you through hell when you were just a few years older than Isla.”
Her expression changes. Not dramatically, no tears, no raised voice, but something hardens behind her eyes. “If I discovered anyone had done that to Isla, I would not stop until I ruined their lives. Quietly, methodically, and without an ounce of regret.”
She’s magnificent, a mother in full flow of protecting her cub, even hypothetically. I cup her face and kiss her soft lips. “Nothing will ever happen to Isla while I have breath in my body. I’ll keep her safe. I’ll keep you both safe.”
She covers my hands with her own. “I know you will, and we both love you for it. So very, very much.”
With comedic timing, Isla appears in the bedroom doorway dressed in mustard-colored leggings that she’s matched with a bright red tartan dress, a pair of vivid green shoes dangling from her fingers. Rebecca and I take one look at each other and have to stifle our laughter behind our hands.
This kid. My world is technicolor since she came into it. I cannot wait to be her dad for real, in the eyes of the law.
“Well, hello, pretty girl. I like your outfit.”
Isla beams, and Rebecca groans. “Guess I’m wearing sunglasses indoors today.”
“Could be worse.”
“How?”
“She might move on to picking out your clothes.”
The horror on my wife’s face puts a smile on mine. Whatever happens when I tell Dad, it helps beyond belief to know that Rebecca will be waiting for me when I return.
Since it’s a Tuesday, I find Dad exactly where I expect him to be, in his office.
Even in his sixties, my father shows no signs of slowing down.
I’m certain he’ll remain heavily involved in the business for the rest of his life, and I’m glad.
I can’t imagine the De Vil Dynasty without my father at the helm, although Xan will make a terrific replacement.
It’s something he’s trained for his entire life, and with Imogen by his side, when the time comes, he’ll lead this family forward in the way Dad intended.
I hope that’s a long way into the future.
My stomach clenches uncomfortably as I tap on Dad’s open door and step inside. He greets me with his usual genial welcome.
“Twice in succession, Tobias. No diary this time, I hope.”
“No, sir.” I close the door.
My father frowns. “A closed door?” He motions to the guest chair opposite his desk. “What do you need?”
It’s so like my father to read me and offer his undivided attention and help.
Before I even start, I know what I have to tell him will crush him.
Maybe it’s cruel of me to share what happened to me.
Would it be better to keep it to myself?
The problem with that is, for as long as I can remember, I’ve always been open with my father.
If I hadn’t suppressed the memories of what the Southalls did to me, I’m sure I’d have told him before now.
In all likelihood, if those fucking monsters hadn’t scared the shit out of an eight-year-old boy, I might have told him then, too.
As a family, though, we had so much going on, so much grief to unpack and deal with, knowing me, I probably didn’t want to add to Dad’s pain.
Instead, I absorbed it to the extent my brain protected me by making me forget and came up with an alternate plan: humor as a defense mechanism.
I clear my throat. “Remember I asked you whether I had a governess as a kid?”
“Yes, and I told you. Ava Southall.”
“Well, I looked into her.”
Dad’s head tilts to one side. “Why?”
“Because of what happened at the monthly dinner. That outburst, Dad. It wasn’t like me at all.”
He nods. “No, it wasn’t, but I still don’t follow.”
“If you remember, the trigger was Victoria suggesting a governess for Isla. Something didn’t sit right with me, so I had a private investigator run a background check and see what he could discover.
As soon as I saw her face, I…” Scraping a hand through my hair, I fill my lungs with oxygen and hold it there.
My hands break out in a sweat, and a gigantic lump crawls into my throat.
“Take your time.”
I wipe my palms on my trousers. “Memories came flooding back. Memories I’d suppressed.”
He sits up straighter, his razor-sharp gaze locked on me, unwavering. “What memories?”
“Of her. Ava. Touching me. Telling me what a good boy I was. And him, the husband, sitting in the corner, watching. Always watching. Giving instructions.”
Dad blinks, his face painted in shock. “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”
I nod.
“Tobias, no,” he whispers. “Oh, Son. God, no.”
When the first tear snakes down Dad’s face, I hold it together. It’s the strangled sob that rips from his throat like a wounded animal that breaks me. My father gets up from his chair and comes around to my side of the desk. Next thing I know, I’m in his arms.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “I never knew. I never knew.”
His shirt is soaked from my tears, and mine’s soaked from his. “It’s not your fault,” I croak.
“It is. It is.” Vehement, he steps back, but his hands remain on my upper arms. He squeezes. “I’m your father. I should have known what was happening to you, what they were doing to you. My boy. My precious boy.”
“Dad, don’t. You had so much on your plate then: Mum, Annabel, Xan. So much trauma, and we all turned to you, forgetting that you were dealing with the pain of their loss just as much as we were.”
“That’s no excuse. I brought that woman into this house.” He rubs a hand over his mouth. “I put you in harm’s way.”
I knew he’d blame himself. First George and Alice, now me.
Once again, my father is shouldering a load heavy enough to buckle his knees.
I’d wanted him to know, and now that he did, I almost wished I hadn’t told him.
The look on his face sits heavy in my gut, and I know I’ll be carrying it for a while.
I bow my shoulders. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“No. No. I’m glad you told me.” His jaw locks. “Where are they?”
“They live in a bungalow in Sussex. I went to see them.”
His eyes flare. “When?”
“Couple of weeks ago.”
“Alone?”
“No, Rebecca came with me.”
On hearing my wife’s name, or maybe the way I say it, his whole expression brightens. “She makes you happy.”
“Happier than I ever thought possible.”
As honest as I want to be with my father, some things are too private to share with anyone, including a parent, so I keep my aversion to touch and how Lilian and Rebecca have helped me to overcome it to myself.
“I love her.”
He touches his chest, right above his heart. “I prayed this would be the outcome, but with everything Rebecca had been through with her former husband, I wasn’t sure it was possible.”
“We’ve both been broken. I believe that’s why it works.”
“And between both of you is a little girl who’s the glue.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” I smile. “Rebecca wants me to adopt Isla.”
Dad clasps his hands together. “That’s wonderful news.”
“I think so.”
“And what happened at the Southalls’?”
I lock my jaw. “They denied it—no surprise there—but his reaction particularly stank of a man who knew his crimes had caught up with him. She took the gaslighting route. They’re both guilty as hell.”
“What do you want to do? Police?”
“Not for me. I’ve brought enough negative attention on this family of late, and I don’t want my personal trauma pored over for the titillation of others.
I had a taste of that with the shooting.
It won’t help me recover. It will only make things worse.
I have an investigator working on identifying their other victims. Once he finds them, and he will find them, I’m going to offer them whatever support they need to go down the route that’s best for them.
If they choose the legal one, I’ll fund the best lawyers.
If they need therapy, I’ll give it to them.
If they want to remain anonymous, I’ll support that, too.
If no one wants to press charges, then we’ll reassess. ”
“And what about therapy for you, Tobias?”
I run my tongue along the inside of my cheek. “I’ve been going for a few weeks now. Lilian.” I shrug. “She’s a ball-buster, just like Xan said, but she’s helping, I think.”
He clasps my upper arms again, giving me a firm squeeze. “You’re a good man. I’m proud to call you my son.”
“I get it from you, Dad.”
His eyes soften. “Can I help in any way?”
My mouth opens, ready to say no, that I’ve got this.
Except handing this problem off to Dad suddenly feels like not only the right thing, but necessary.
I don’t want to deal directly with it. It’s too painful, and I know that once other victims are found, it’s going to regurgitate all those memories, and I’ve got enough on my plate to deal with.
Lilian will be able to afford her own yacht with the money she’s making from my family.
“Yeah, I believe you can.”
“Name it.”
“Take over the case for me. Work with the investigator and the victims and dole out whatever punishment you see fit on the Southalls.”
Dad watches me closely, gauging my reasoning. A single nod confirms his agreement. “I’ve got this. I’ve got you.”
“I’ll send you the PI’s contact details.” I make my way to the door, pausing halfway. “Dad?”
“Yes, Son.”
“Don’t tell the others about this. I don’t want them pitying me or looking at me differently. I want them to see me as the man they always have. The funny one, the joker.”
“They would regardless, but this is your call. They won’t hear a thing from me. I do hope, though, that one day, you will tell them.”
“Yeah, I will. When I’m ready.”
I close the door behind me with a quiet click and lean against it. By telling Dad, it’s as though I’ve rid myself of a great weight. I feel lighter, more centered, and hopeful about the future than I have in a very long time.
Ava and Harrison Southall will pay. Whether that’s via the legal route or with their lives, only time will tell. Knowing my father, he’ll choose the path that brings the greatest suffering to the Southalls.
That alone makes him the best man for this job.