* * *
Before, the plan was for me to look the other way.
Not I have to actively help steal from my parents. They’ve stolen my childhood, my sense of safety. They’ve stolen my voice, so maybe it’s only fair. But I still feel guilt churn inside me as I head inside the house.
Daddy has the diamonds laid out on the coffee table, sifting through them and muttering to himself. He swears when he sees me, his eyes blue eyes flashing. Blue eyes like mine. It makes me wonder if we look the same to an outsider. Or if maybe we’re wildly different, the way Niko is from his uncle.
“You,” Daddy says, his eyes hard as ice. Impenetrable.
“Mom called,” I say, carefully. Always carefully.
He laughs. “I bet she did. She wants the new Benz.”
“She said I should try and calm you down.”
His expression turns dark. “Sit down, Emily. You seem to know a lot about what’s going on.”
I take a seat on the sofa where De Fiore and his wife sat on their visit. Opposite my father. “You’re the one who brought me into this. You’re the one who had me sit in on that meeting.”
“No, that was your mother. I wouldn’t have trusted you.”
No, I think bitterly. You never did trust me, because I tell the truth.
Only when that thought flits through my mind do I realize it’s true. I’ve always told the truth. Not the whole truth, especially once I realized no one was listening.
No one wanted to listen.
“I didn’t lie about seeing you kill that man.” I point to the rug, which is plush and beautiful and different from the one that was there years ago. “You shot him. He landed right there. And there was blood, so much blood it wouldn’t come out.”
Daddy gives me a hard smile, like a diamond. “You always were a stupid girl. So what was the first thing you did? Run and tell your teacher, as if she could fucking help you.”
“Yes,” I say sadly. “That was stupid. I was young and trusting and stupid, but not anymore.”
His voice is quiet now. “No? Are you sure you’re not trusting someone you shouldn’t?”
My heartbeat thumps harder, faster. Does he know about Niko? And I realize that I have my way out right now. My way out of this betrayal. I can live in my castle tower forever, if I tell Daddy what I know.
Maybe then he would trust me. “I don’t know.”
“You think just because Anastasia is your age that you can trust her? That Sergio will keep you around once you’ve served your purpose?”
He thinks I’ve made a deal with Sergio De Fiore.
Of course he does. Because that’s the kind of thing that Sergio De Fiore would do. And it’s the kind of thing a trapped daughter would do. He’s right, but not about the specifics.
“Did you expect me to stay here forever?” I ask softly. “What’s even the plan after I graduate from college? To keep me locked in the attic, like some kind of crazy lady? Will I grow old in this house?”
His expression turns to a snarl, because I’ve all but confirmed that I betrayed him. “You wouldn’t have lived that long. Your mother thought we could marry you to someone who’d keep a firm hand on you, but I always knew better. You’d have an accident. Probably a car accident. Maybe a fire.”
Chills rush down my spine. It’s one thing to hear someone threaten to kill me.
Another to know that someone is my father.
I turn away. “Then can you blame me for wanting to get out?”
Even now I’m not lying to him. After so many years of being silenced, I’m telling him the truth. But I won’t tell on Niko. If Daddy wants to make assumptions, that’s his own damn fault.
Daddy slams his fist onto the coffee table, making the diamonds jump. “So what’s the plan? Would he be here right now, if I wasn’t here? Would he have taken them away?”
“I wasn’t supposed to be here when you got back.”
“Of course.” A cold laugh. “He probably told you that you’d live in luxury.”
“I’d live in the dirt,” I say, just as cold as his laugh. “Anywhere is better than here.”
“You ungrateful little bitch,” he says, and I can’t help but flinch.
No matter what I say my father will hate me. No matter what I say he won’t believe me. And that’s when I realize that I can do this. I can do what I told Pattin I would. I can make Daddy do something by telling him to do the exact opposite.
“You think your house is some kind of fortress,” I say. “That no one can get in. But you don’t live alone here. There are always other people.”
“Other people like you.”
I shrug. “Sucks to be a paranoid person, doesn’t it? That fancy gate doesn’t protect you.”
