Page 90 of Bound By Blood and Lies

“Y-you—” he stammers, the words catching between anger and panic.

Mum rolls her eyes, already done with him, turning her back to him as if he’s not worth finishing the conversation for.

“You tricked us!”

“Harding,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I did no such thing. The bylaws exist for a reason. If you chose to read something into me that wasn’t there, that’s on you. Not me.”

Riggs barks out a laugh that cuts straight through the tension, loud and completely out of place after everything that’s just happened.

“Go on, Mumzy!” he cheers, pushing back in his chair.

The sound of it pulls a few of the others with him, relief breaking across their faces in different ways, but my attention doesn’t follow them. It stays locked across the table.

Strickland is watching her, and for the first time since we walked in, there’s something close to a smile on his face. Not smug or forced. It looks… genuine, like this is the outcome he wanted, even though he was the one who tipped it the other way moments ago. A frown pulls at my brows as I replay it, the way he’d stood, the hesitation when he said nay. He hadn’t looked convinced. He’d looked… boxed in.

Still, a smile pulls across my face as my eyes bounce back to Mum and the pieces click together. If she’d walked in here and declared her position straight away, the nays would have pushed and found a way to block it before it reached a vote. She needed them comfortable and locked into their decisions before she took it from them.

It wasn’t betrayal.

It was strategy and it is exactly what I would have done.

Maybe I’m not like my dad after all. Maybe the person I’ve been learning from all this time isn’t him… maybe it’s her. The barefoot, cake-loving woman who just outplayed a room full of men. Relief lifts from my shoulders as Fae leans in and her lips brush softly against my cheek. I turn into her, chasing her mouth and pulling her onto my lap. Her hand slides to the back of my neck as our lips meet, and this time it deepens as our tongues slide together.

“I’m so proud of you,” she murmurs against my lips. I rest my forehead against hers, closing my eyes.

“I love you, Tink,” I breathe, and she smiles, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of my nose.

For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can actually breathe. I’ve got her in my arms, the founders behind me, and something close to control back in my hands. Harding shoves his chair back and it scrapes across the floor as he stands, his face flushed with anger.

“This won’t be the last of this,” he spits as his gaze flickers between me and my mum like he’s trying to decide which of us he hates more.

“Oh, but it will be,” Parson replies smoothly, not even bothering to stand, which seems to rile Harding up further.

“The law is the law, Harding,” Lawson adds with a low chuckle, leaning back in his chair as he enjoys every second of it. “You know that.”

Harding’s jaw tightens, his hands curl into fists at his sides before he turns sharply on his heel. The door slams behind him with enough force to rattle the glass, and the echo of it lingers as Bates and Simmons rise more quietly and follow him out without another word. I pull back from Fae as I watch them go. The fight isn’t over, not even close, but this part of it is done. Around the table, the remaining men start to move. Chairsscrape, jackets are adjusted, and one by one they step forward. Parson is first, offering his hand across the desk.

“Well played,” he says simply.

I take it, gripping firmly, “thank you.”

Snider follows, giving a short nod, “don’t waste it.”

“I won’t.”

Buckley claps Riggs on the shoulder before turning to me, “you’ve got your work cut out for you, son.”

“I know.”

Strickland doesn’t move straight away. He lingers as the others drift past, his gaze is thoughtful as it settles on me. I ease Fae back onto her feet and stand, straightening slightly as he finally steps forward. Neither of us speak straight away, but he reaches out, gripping my shoulder firmly and leaning into my ear.

“Make this a better place,” he says quietly.

“I will,” I answer, and for the first time, it feels like something I might actually be able to do.

He nods once, satisfied with the answer, before stepping back. His gaze shifts to his son, who pointedly looks anywhere but at him, and his expression tightens before he exhales and turns for the door. The click as it shuts leaves the room hanging in silence. I glance around at the misfit group in front of me, until my eyes land on my mum. The woman in the red dress is gone, and in her place is the version of her I know best, softer around the edges with nerves finally creeping through now that the room has emptied and the performance is over. I exhale and close the distance between us, pulling her into me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I murmur.