I slam the glass back down on the desk. “Why?”
What could’ve possessed him to gamble his father’s legacy on something so stupid?
He shakes his head, denying me a response.
“No.” I storm toward him. “You don’t get to shut down. Tell me why.”
His gaze lifts. Haunted. Hollow. “I’ve never been good with money, Isla. I’ve tried, but…” His lower lip trembles. “I have no self-control. I buy things I can’t afford. I create debt that I can’t get out of.”
Debt?
A chill ripples down my spine. “We owe Raffael money?”
“No,” he says quickly. “That’s been taken care of.”
Taken care of.Right. He means brushed under the rug in exchange for corruption.
“That’s why you work so hard.” I stare at him, trying to reconcile this man with the one I’ve admired my entire life. The one who made indulgence look effortless. Who acted like extravagant purchases were a God-given right. “That’s why every project has to come through you before anyone else sees it.”
It was never about dedication or excellence. His actions were based on sabotage. Covering his tracks.
He’s not a leader. He’s a fraud.
“I’m doing better,” he pleads. “I promise. I’ve kept my spending under control. But I should’ve warned you. I just… I really thought it was in the past until…”
Until I caused waves that uncovered his transgressions.
Fucking hell.
A gentle knock breaks the tension a second before Elena steps inside with a tray of appetizers.
“Sorry to interrupt.” She places the food on Raffael’s desk. “Dinner will be served within the hour. Are there any dietary requirements I should pass on to the chef?”
I turn away, not wanting to level my glower on someone undeserving. “No, thanks. We’re good.”
I don’t plan on eating. I can’t stomach the thought.
“How about another drink?” she asks. “A cocktail, maybe?”
“No.” Resentment creeps into my tone.
For heaven’s sake, Elena, read the goddamn room.
“Okay.” Her footsteps retreat toward the hall. “I’ll be nearby if you need anything.”
My father and I are left alone, this time with the door open, our secrets free to escape into the outside world.
Dad remains quiet as I pace, massaging my temples to keep a headache at bay.
I don’t understand how we got here. How I missed the signs.
God, whatwerethe signs?
The questions multiply. The dread snowballs.
And then I feel it—the additional presence in the room that raises the hair on the back of my neck.
I glance over my shoulder.