Page 64 of Bombshell

Everything’s about him.

“Is that what you want?” he continues. “A second chance? Why would I give you that?”

“Because you’re my father, and you’re the only parent I have left.”

This finally stops him. He stands near the door, and for the first time in my life, my father looks small. Maybe I’ve finally bent him. Or maybe I see him differently now that I’m carrying my own child.

“I don’t have to wait for her to be here,” I say, placing my palm on my stomach, “to know that I will always put her first. If that means losing my inheritance, you can take it. You want the family name? I’ll take mom’s maiden name. I’ll go to the public hospital. I’ll sell whatever I own. I will protect her, because that’s what a mother does. That’s what Mom would do. She wouldn’t make ultimatums. She wouldn’t force me to do something I would regret for the rest of my life. She would give me a second chance. Actually, no she wouldn’t. Mothers don’t give second chances. Mothers just love you—the good, the bad. A mother’s love is free. I don’t have a mother to give me that anymore, but I can give that to my baby.”

We regard each other with a silence that feels like it will never end. I can’t help but think this will be how I remember him: quiet, rigid, small. I won’t miss him. There’s nothing to miss. All he’s ever given to me was money and expectations. You can’t miss those things.

His eyes shutter and then he finally speaks, “Adoption.”

“What?” I ask, unsure I heard him.

“There is one more option. You can give the baby up. Stay in London, have the baby, and give it to someone capable of caring for it.”

“I’m not giving her up to some stranger.”

“Not a stranger,” he says. “That would be too risky. If the wrong person found out you were her mother, there’s no telling what they might try to do to our family.”

“I don’t think most people looking to adopt a baby are interested in blackmail.”

“Ah, my sweet, stubborn, stupid child. You know everyone can be bought, but everyone is capable of betrayal. Learn that now before it’s too late,” he advises. “You are right about one thing, however. You won’t give her to a stranger.”

I’m too flummoxed to respond. I’m not sure my father has ever admitted I was right before. Still, I don’t see how this is a real option, especially if we both agree that the baby can’t be given up.

“The solution is simple.” Angus MacLaine always has a trick hidden up his sleeve. He saves it for when he needs it most. I’ve watched him play it during billionaire-dollar mergers. He produced it during the investigation into the car accident. “She will stay in the family.”

I press my hand harder against my stomach as I feel an undeniable kick, as though she understands what he’s saying before I do.

“I will pay for the medical bills,” he continues. “You will remain in London and give birth. After which, you will continue to have access to your trust fund and remain in the will. You can remain in London. Return to school. You will both be taken care of.”

“And?” There’s a catch. There always is with a MacLaine. “You’ll just play granddad?”

“Yes,” he says, catching me off guard, until he shows his final card. “Because you’ll give the baby to Malcolm and Ginny to raise. No one will ever know the truth.”

“I wish I hadn’t waited until he was dead to return to Valmont,” Sterling says darkly. “I wish I’d come back to kill him myself.”

“He’d already won,” I say wearily.

“So, they just took her from you?” He runs a hand through his dark hair. “Is that even legal? Did you sign documents?”

“Not exactly,” I admit before plunging into the rest of the story. When I finish, he’s pale. He moves onto the couch next to me and draws me into his arms, tucking my body against his, before kissing my forehead. I let myself cry, openly and freely, for the first time in years. It’s ugly and painful, my sobs wrack my body until my lungs hurt. I’ve told myself not to dwell on the past, because I didn’t think I could survive it. Now, standing on the other side of it, I’m left to wonder if I just gave up.

“Do you think...Did I give up too easily?”

His arms tighten around me, protective and strong, and I dread the first moment I have to spend without their comforting presence, knowing it’s an inevitable fact of life.

“Lucky, you didn’t give up. You never gave up.” He tilts my tear-stained face up to meet his own red eyes. I didn’t realize until this moment that he’d been crying, too. “I’m proud of you, but you don’t have to fight alone anymore. I’m here now, and from this moment forward, we fight together.”

16

Sterling

“And you were in London the whole time?” I ask, dreading her answer. This came up once before when Luca had mentioned time we spent in London. I’d thought she was jealous, then. The more she tells me, the more angry I become.

She nods. “You mentioned being in London while you were serving.”