Page 140 of Shamed
Of course, Mase and now Dad are the only ones who’ve heard the entire story involving Dylan.
The worry about his retaliation is still there, but it’s time to face that head-on.
Dad’s face is drained of all color by the time I’m finished. Horror, shock, and a multitude of other emotions flood his features as he sits there, absorbing everything.
I admit, I wasn’t sure he’d believe me, but by the look on his face right now, there’s a strong chance he does. Ineedhim to believe me.
Dad doesn’t say anything right away, and neither do I.
It’s a lot to take in, especially after I’ve just shown up after years and tossed a bomb into his lap.
After some more time passes, he stands abruptly, then walks back to the window, looking out at the street, his expression disturbed. “So, Jacob was innocent.”
It’s not a question, but I answer it anyway. “Yes.”
Another minute passes in silence. “There were moments over the years where Dylan acted a little inappropriately—the odd time where a girl would exit his office, looking a little frazzled—but I never thought . . .” Reaching up, he lays a hand on his chest and grips the fabric of his shirt.
I stand quickly, concerned that maybe his heart is bothering him. But when he turns to face me, he releases his shirt, his eyes glassy again.
I’ve never seen as much emotion from him as I have since I walked through his door.
“All that time, he was right under my nose. And he did that to you. It makes me sick.” His hand reaches higher to rest atthe base of his throat, and I realize he’s probably trying to press against the ache like I sometimes do. “I wish you felt like you could have come to me when he threatened you. I’m so sorry that I didn’t make it easy for you.”
Slowly, I step up beside him, looking out the window at the cloudy sky. “He’s always been like a son to you. I didn’t think I’d have a chance of you believing me.”
When I face him again, I see a pained expression. He knows it as well. “Yet you still tried to protect me and this company from him.”
“I’m just glad I finally had the courage to tell you the truth,” I tell him softly. “But we need to figure out what to do about him. I still don’t want him to hurt you or your company. Is he still at the same office?”
My father’s expression falters, his brows coming together as he faces me fully. “You don’t know?”
I straighten. “Know what?”
“Dylan . . . he’s dead. It was just recent.”
“What?” I stare at him, frozen, while the words I wasn’t expecting to hear swim through my mind.
Dead. Dylan is dead. No longer a threat.Gone, gone, gone.
Should I be feeling some kind of sadness over that news, over the loss of life?
Maybe if he wasn’t such a vile human—if he didn’t put me through so much trauma, if he didn’t let Jacob take theblame—I could show a morsel of empathy for him. But there’s no such thing now.
He’s dead, and I’mglad.
But another thought occurs to me as I look at my father.
I know Dylan wouldn’t have admitted to the truth willingly, but does it mean the truth is now dead with him?
“It was a hit and run a couple of weeks ago,” Dad explains, taking my hand in his. And then his frown deepens as his gaze flickers to the floor in thought. “Actually, it was strange. He had a run-in with someone shortly before that, and he was left bruised and battered. Then his car was vandalized, and the windows smashed in. Then it was the hit and run.” His gray eyes return to me. “It was almost like someone suddenly had a vendetta against him.”
We stare at each other for a moment, until I realize what he might be implying, and my eyes widen. “It wasn’t me.”
Dad’s face softens. “No, no. I know that. You didn’t even know he was dead.” He rubs the top of my hand before releasing it. “It just seemed like it all happened out of the blue, but it’s just coincidence. You said you kept quiet all this time, so no one else knows, right?” He turns back to the window, leaving me staring at the side of his head.
Someone elsedoesknow.
But would Mase really do something like that?
