Page 41 of Outcast

“How could he?” I gasped out. He wasn’t my father. Wasn’t my anything, but I thought his affection for Mom would have made him want to at least negotiate directly with the kidnappers. My heart twisted into knots, sending an ache straight to my gut.

Mom.

If she’d acted like I wasn’t an imposition to be sent away to school, and if she’d insisted on keeping me close, Rudolph would never have had me sent so far away. If Mom acted like I was precious to her, he would never have relegated my abduction and ransom to an assistant of an assistant. “How much are you asking for?”

He rubbed his chin. “It started off as quarter of a mil. Not as much as with Bourneville here, but he’s a natural-born son, the heir, and worth more.”

I nodded. “What is it now?”

Even in the hallway and with a balaclava over his features, I could see his face twisting into a pained grimace. “He’s negotiated us down to fifty thousand.”

I reared back. Humiliation rippled through my insides, making them shrivel to dust. The engagement ring he bought Mom was reported to be worth ten times that much. “What will you do if he doesn’t pay?”

“No need to answer that,” said Henry. “If my father doesn’t agree to pay that amount, tell them it can come out of my inheritance.”

“We’ll be back soon with news.” The kidnapper shut the door and turned the key.

Henry gathered me into a warm embrace of strong arms and his comforting, minty scent. I leaned against his shoulder, relishing the safety he provided, and breathed hard. Henry had done more for me than Rudolph had in the entire time he’d been dating and married to Mom, and Henry had been my former enemy, not even my stepfather. This time, when the tears gathered in my eyes, I let them flow.

“Shhh,” said Henry. “Rudolph Trommel is a hard man. Anyone who has read his history can gather that he’s a bastard. His decisions are no reflection on you.”

My throat spasmed. “But he’s supposed to love my mom. This kidnapping isn’t something he can hide, and it will come out eventually that he didn’t deem me worth the price of one of his designer watches.”

Henry drew back and swiped a tear from my cheek. “I’m sure he’s keeping this information from her. No mother in the world would prolong a kidnapping to quibble over money.”

“Huh,” I said.

“What was that?”

“She didn’t object when Rudolph decided to send me to England. What if she’s not objecting to these lengthy negotiations?”

He cupped my face with both hands, tilting my head up, so we locked gazes. “You don’t know that, Hobson. Being cooped here in this room is making you fear the worst. Hopelessness is part of being held hostage. I’m sure your mother is either completely ignorant of what’s happened, or on a plane to England to pay your ransom personally.”

The naive optimism of his words made me smile. If I ever got my smartphone back and searched the news, I’d find no pictures of Mom rushing through the arrivals gate at Heathrow airport. She’d be in the society magazines, at some function or a party in the states, wearing a gown worth twice my ransom and acting like her only daughter wasn’t being held by kidnappers.

“Hey.” Henry lowered me to the bed and settled us onto the mattress, so my entire left side rested against his body. His chest rumbled as he spoke. “You’re not the only one without a perfect family, and that doesn’t make you less loved.”

“But your father paid your ransom.”

He snorted. “That man is more interested in making his mark on the family legacy than in spending time with his son. The only reason he’s paid my ransom is that he needs someone to manage the businesses after he’s gone.”

I closed my eyes and smiled. Henry was right. Everyone’s lives were a little blighted by family woes. Mom would probably never side with Rudolph when it came to a situation of life or death. Rudolph had likely withheld the information and was just being his usual, hard-nosed self.

Henry told me about the family situations of his other classmates. Edward’s mother died a few months after he joined Mercia Academy, and his father was suffering from an early type of dementia and failing fast. Blake’s father was a violent alcoholic who resented his mother’s relationship with the prince. When they divorced, she married said prince, and his father died in a drink-driving accident that was covered up by the palace. Now, his mother was having an affair with someone else, and the prince was too smitten to divorce her.

I sighed. “Why do people with such unhappy backgrounds inflict pain on others?”

“I had a theory about that,” he rumbled. “When one is too busy enjoying the suffering of others, one has no time to wallow in one’s own misfortune.”

I drew back and glared into his solemn, green eyes. “Is that why you do nothing? For the distraction?”

“Of course not.”

He continued telling me about Charlotte. Her brother had also gone to Mercia Academy, and had emerged as a gambling addict who frequently got himself into trouble with casinos. Their father frittered away the family fortune to bail out his son, but nothing could get him to stop the gambling. Charlotte was both worried and resentful about her brother, but hid it by telling everyone he worked for the Saudi royal family. By the end of the conversation, I had learned more about the triumvirate than I’d had the weeks I’d attended the academy.

“You see.” He wiped away my last tear. “You’re not alone. We might seem like a happy, close-knit group, but it’s a facade that hides a myriad of hurts.”

“Thanks.” I gave him a peck on the lips. “For fighting to stay with me. And for making me feel less awful.”