31. Knox
Knox
The reception’s in full swing by the time I stop performing for the cameras and start actually looking at the room. I feel like I blacked out during the ceremony, and now the fog is finally lifting.
I look for Sawyer, but I don’t see her in the crowd of people up and moving around. I hope she’s alright. Even knowing what this is and why we’re doing it, I’m sure it’s as hard for her as it is for me. I’ll find her soon.
My father’s living his best life with a drink in his hand and my mother on his arm, working the tent like he’s the center of the universe.
Good, I’d rather the attention on him than on me.
He wanted this, every over-the-top bit from the string quartet down to the flowers, because an Aldrich wedding that doesn’t look flawless reflects poorly on him.
He hasn’t dropped his smug grin since Gia said husband and wife.
I can’t wait for his choices to bite him in the ass.
Moretti, on the other hand, is acting more reserved.
He’s not smiling at all. Just standing near the edge of the tent with two of his men, watching the room in that unsettling way of his.
He got what he wanted, so there’s no reason to make a big show of being happy.
This was never about Ella. Not really. This was about him tightening a noose around my neck and getting his piece of the business, with or without my father’s involvement.
I find Ella near the edge of the dance floor, alone for the first time since we said our vows.
“You okay?” I ask, low enough that only she’ll hear.
“No.” She keeps her eyes on the party, a fake smile plastered on. “But I will be.”
I gesture toward the back exit. “Do you wanna take a breather?”
She hesitates, but nods, so I take her arm and lead her away from the noise and the cameras. This hasn’t been easy on her. I’m surprised she went for my plan when I brought her into this.
We slip out the back of the tent, past a few well-wishing strangers. It’s quiet the second we’re outside the canvas, or at least quiet enough to hear myself think.
Ella stays silent. The only sound is the thud of her heels hitting grass, but for anyone still watching, we look our part. Husband and wife.
We don’t get far before I hear a familiar voice.
Moretti’s.
I stop dead, jutting a hand out to keep Ella from walking past the hedge line. She freezes next to me, and I watch her face change the second she recognizes it too.
He’s not talking to anyone we can see. Maybe he’s on the phone, or it’s one of his men just out of sight around the corner of the house. His voice is low and controlled, putting me on edge.
“Richard’s done his part. Once the transfer clears, he’s no use to me.” He pauses before going on. “No, don’t touch him yet. Let him enjoy his little party. There’s time.”
He’s quiet for a few breaths, listening. Ella tries to go to him, but I stop her.
“My daughter’s handled either way. She’ll do what she’s told, or she learns the same lesson her mother did.”
Ella grips my hand hard enough to hurt. What does he mean? And who’s on the other end of that conversation?
I don’t move. Don’t breathe. Every instinct I’ve got says to walk around that corner and lay him out. The only thing keeping my feet planted is years of practice in restraint and the knowledge that the next phase of the plan is happening soon.
Ella’s still staring at the hedge, eyes narrowed, and I can see her running through the same questions I am. Who is he talking to?
Or maybe she already knows.
“Ella,” I whisper. “What lesson did your mother learn?”
She doesn’t answer right away. When she does, it’s barely a whisper. “I don’t know. I’ve never met her. He told me she left when I was two.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
She sniffs, but her eyes are dry. “I’m done protecting him.”
Before I can ask what that means, a line of vehicles pulls up along the side lawn—black SUVs and a few police cruisers.
Ella’s fingers tighten around mine one more time.
“Whatever happens in the next ten minutes,” she says, “don’t let go of my hand.”
We forget about Moretti and dart around the hedge to watch the whole thing unfold. I need to find Sawyer, but people are already noticing the new arrivals, taking out their phones to record.
Four detectives, three men and one woman, are cutting through the crowd, yelling for people to move to the side. Guests scatter, dropping glasses and knocking over chairs, but some stay put, enjoying the first course pasta dish, watching like this is the scheduled entertainment.
I spot my father before he notices what’s happening.
He’s still got that same grin plastered on, making small talk with one of his golf buddies. One of the detectives says his name, and I’m able to watch the exact moment he realizes what’s happening. His entire face rearranges itself into an expression of shock.
“Richard Aldrich,” the lead detective says. “You’re under arrest.”
My mother’s glass hits the wooden floor and rolls. Richard starts bellowing over the commotion. “This is absurd. I have no idea what you—”
“Save it.” The detective grabs his cuffs. “You’ll want to wait for your attorney.”
Sawyer pushes through the crowd toward me, weaving past guests frozen with their phones half raised, and the second she reaches me her hand finds my arm like she needs to confirm I’m real. “It’s actually happening.”
“Yeah,” I say in astonishment, keeping my eyes on my father. “Fuck. I can’t believe it.”
She looks past me to where they’re turning him around, and lets out a small laugh.
Neither of us actually believed this would work out, and to see it unfolding is nothing short of a miracle.
Her grip on my arm loosens, and her eyes find Ella’s to my side.
No words pass between them but I know exactly what their looks are saying. Thank you. I’m sorry. It’s almost over.
After months of lying to Ella and dragging Sawyer into my shitstorm life, seeing that look pass between them is enough to make my hands unclench for the first time all day.
Another detective peels away from the group, her eyes scanning the guests. Her lips fall into a straight line as she spots Moretti, and I realize they’re not done. Holy shit. She signals to a few of the officers behind Moretti and in seconds, he’s surrounded.
Ella’s hand goes rigid in mine and Sawyer goes still on my other side. I’m too shocked to move.
Moretti doesn’t try to bolt like I’d expect. He sets his drink down and calmly speaks with them. I’m sure he’s betting he’ll be off the hook like always. And maybe he will be. I have no idea why or how they’re coming for him right now.
“Vincent Moretti,” the detective says. “Turn around, please.”
She starts to recite his rights while Vince tries to talk over her. Another officer answers, “We’ll discuss at the station.”
For a quick moment, Moretti’s eyes find Ella’s across the tent. I can’t read his expression, but Ella holds her chin high and squeezes my hand until they turn him around and lead him out of the tent.
I’m proud of her, which catches me by surprise. That small act of defiance is so much more than I’ve ever seen from her. The Ella I know would have run to him, pleaded with the officers, had their lawyers on the phone before the cuffs even closed. She’s got her own reckoning to get through now.
The tent clears out quickly, guests either following the officers or heading for their cars. A few stragglers are still hanging around, eating and drinking like watching two men get arrested is just another day.
I spot my mother hurrying out, heading toward the house, and make a mental note to check on her shortly.
I still have Ella’s hand in mine on one side when Sawyer laces her fingers through mine on the other.
“What should we do?” Sawyer whispers.
“Aldrich.” It’s a deep voice coming from behind me.
I turn to find the lead detective we’ve been working with heading toward the three of us.
“We’re going to need a statement from you,” he says.
His eyes move over Sawyer, then Ella, then back to me.
“All three of you, probably.” He pauses, like he’s deciding how much to say here, in the open, with nosey stragglers still watching.
“And there’s something you should know before we get into it. About your father.”
Something in his tone tells me I’m going to be shocked at what he says next.
The detective glances toward the lawn where they’re getting my father into the back of an SUV. “Your father’s been cooperating with an ongoing investigation into Vincent Moretti for a few weeks now.”
I glance at a wide eyed Ella. “Cooperating, how?”
“Feeding us valuable information. That’s all I can say.”
It takes me a second to absorb his words. Sawyer’s voice has me turning toward her. “Does this mean Richard’s working on a deal? Get you Moretti to save his own ass?”
“That’ll be for the DA to sort out.” He sighs, rubbing his palms against his pants. “But yeah, probably. Wanted you to hear it from us before you heard it somewhere else.”
Sawyer’s hand tightens in mine. I don’t look at her. I can’t yet. Because if I do, I’m going to have to acknowledge the fact that even now, fucking cuffed in the back of an SUV, my father found a way to make sure he comes out of this on top.
“Is he going away?” I ask. “For any of it?”
“That’s above my pay grade.” The detective’s voice softens a bit. “But cooperation doesn’t erase what he did. He’ll need great attorneys and a stellar deal to get out of serving time.”
Motherfucker. He’s destroyed lives. Caused the deaths of eight people. Framed a man who’s already lost years in a cell. My mother’s probably already locked herself in a bathroom with a bottle of pills because of him. And he always comes out of it all, standing on two feet.
“He’ll find a way to win,” I say, mostly to myself.
The detective doesn’t respond, there’s no reason to. He just nods, hands me a card, and tells us someone will be in touch about the statements.
He walks off toward the last of the stragglers, leaving the three of us left standing in what’s left of the reception—overturned chairs, abandoned plates, musicians packing up gear by the dance floor.
Sawyer’s the one who finally breaks the silence. “So he ratted on Moretti to save himself. That’s why he was hiding out.”
“Looks like it.”
“That’s so...typical of him.” She shakes her head. “If he’s going down, he’ll drag everyone else with him.” Then she seems to remember Ella and goes to her side, squeezing her shoulder. “I’m sorry about your dad. I…know what it’s like.”
To watch a man you love and look up to be taken away in cuffs is what she didn’t say.
“It’s alright,” she says in a hollow voice. “It’s not the first time.”
I realize there’s so much I don’t know about this woman I’ve been with for almost a year. Maybe I should have gone to her about her father sooner, avoided this whole thing. I shake my head. There’s no point in thinking about what ifs now.
I take both their hands again. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. We can figure the rest of the shit out later.”
“Wait,” Ella says, pulling her hand free. She slides my grandmother’s engagement ring and the fake wedding band off her finger, passing them over to me. “Don’t need these now.”
I let out a short laugh at the same time Sawyer squeezes my hand. “Guess not.” I pocket them and take Ella’s hand again. “Thanks.”
We walk out past the wreckage of our fake wedding, past the empty chairs and the trampled flowers, and for the first time all day, nobody’s watching us. No cameras. No guests. No fathers and their agendas.
Just the three of us, walking away from all of it together. And for a second, I swear I can feel Owen beside me, patting me on the back, watching me take care of both his girls, and I know he’d be proud of what we’ve done.