by Mia Sheridan
Pause. "Kira."
"My gram's money," I burst out. "What have you done?"
I heard his deep sigh and then he seemed to put his hand over the receiver as he spoke to someone in the background. I thought I heard a door close before he came back. "He's not right for you, Kira. He's a criminal."
"You bastard," I swore. "You did do this. Why?" My voice cracked, sorrow and rage overwhelming me. "Do you really hate me that much?" The words sounded familiar. Hadn't I just asked that question about Grayson and his own father?
"Of course I don't hate you, Kira. I just don't want you making choices for your life that will lead you in the wrong direction."
"It's my life!" I yelled. "I'm a grown woman. You had no right to do this. And now you've put his business in jeopardy, too—he has employees who count on him."
"If your husband counts on your money for his success, then he's no man at all." His voice was tight, unrelenting.
"You have no right—no leg to stand on. That money is legally mine. My gram left it to me."
"Yes, perhaps, but I can tie it up in court until you see the logic of my position and the folly of your choices. I'm doing this for your own good, Kira. I'm your father. I can't let you ruin your life."
Shock and horror slithered up my spine and tears slid down my cheeks. "You're doing this for your own good," I hissed. "You've never given my happiness a moment's consideration. You're doing this because of your own pride—you can't bear to see me do anything that doesn't work into some agenda of your own making. You can't bear the thought that I'm not under your thumb just like everyone else in your world."
He sighed. "Kira—"
"Haven't you done enough to him?" I asked, realizing there was nothing to lose now if we discussed it. He'd already done what I'd feared most. "I remember, you know. I was there when the judge in his case came to your office. I heard your advice. I heard you tell him to throw the book at Grayson, to make an example of him. And that's just what he did."
"I give a lot of people counsel. There's no law against it. And if that boy got the book thrown at him, it's because it's what he deserved."
He remembered. The quickness of his reply gave him away. He hadn't when we'd gone to him in San Francisco, though, I was sure of it. He'd looked more closely at Grayson at some point after that. I knew it in my gut. Whether it was before or after he'd offered him the bribe money, I didn't know.
My dad had taken part in screwing Grayson and all along—not only had Grayson's crime been an accident, but it had been based on valiant reasons—he'd been trying to protect someone.
For a moment, the only sound was my harsh breathing as I attempted to swallow the sobs desperate to escape my chest. "That counsel you give affects lives, Daddy. Real live, breathing humans who have hopes and dreams. Like the advice you gave Cooper on how to handle the situation with me. You crushed me. Did you know that? You crushed Grayson, too. Please, please don't do this. Just put a stop to whatever you've done and let us be happy. You've done enough. Please." I did sob then, a harsh, gasping sound.
"I'm sorry, Kira. This is for your own good, and Cooper's too, yes. But you'll see the wisdom in my vision someday. As for your current husband, I've made him a very generous offer to walk away from you. I suggest he take it if he doesn't want his business to fail."
"And what strings are attached to that?" I spit out.
"Not many. He's receiving a significant amount of money for very little sacrifice. I asked only that he walk away from you permanently, and go along with the story that he took advantage of you—a troubled girl with a significant trust fund."
Very. Little. Sacrifice. Me. That’s what he thinks of me.
My blood turned to ice water, not at the fact that my father would throw me under the bus again, but at the realization that he had no qualms about ruining Grayson's life, too. Again. "He's just beginning to earn back his reputation. And now you're asking him to lie and have people look at him like a pariah again? How do you expect him to make a life for himself in a place where people have no respect for him?"
"That's not my problem. With the money I'm offering, he can make a life anywhere."
He saw himself as some sort of hero. His ego so colossal, he truly viewed himself as an agent of justice. He was truly delusional.
"Is that why you married him?" he asked. "Another charity case to you?"
"No. I love him," I said simply and truthfully. There was no reason to try to convince him of anything anymore.
I suddenly felt numb. He would never leave me alone. I'd spend the remainder of my life being his pawn in some form or another. Staring unseeing out the windshield, I ended the call without another word.
I didn't remember the drive back home. Home. Another sob threatened to choke me as tears slid down my cheeks, one faster than the next. "You're okay," I assured myself. "Everything will be okay. Grayson and I will work this out together. He said he'd take care of me now." Oh God, but neither one of us had a cent to our name once again.
I pulled through the gates and immediately noticed a black town car parked in front of the fountain. Oh God, now what? As I pulled in behind it, Cooper stepped out of the back seat. My heart stuttered again and then took up a staccato beat. At this rate, I was likely to die of heart failure before this day was over.
I took one last deep breath and stepped out of my car, closing the door with a quiet click. Cooper was already walking toward me. "Kira, what's wrong?" he asked, a look of concern on his face. I swiped at my eyes.
"Do you really not know, Cooper? Or are you in on this, too? You and my father—some sort of demented duo," I suggested flatly.
He took a deep breath, his brow creasing. "Yes, I know what he did. I'm sorry. But I have to agree with his desire to get you out of here." He waved his arm behind him at Grayson's home. "He's a murderer, Kira," he said harshly. "You're probably not even safe."
"I'm about a million times safer with him than I ever was with you." My voice rose in volume as I spit the words at him. But suddenly another wave of defeat crashed over me. Fighting with Cooper wasn't going to solve this situation. I changed my tactic. "Cooper," I said, moving closer to him, my voice shaking slightly, "I know what you did was . . ." I shook my head, searching for words that would persuade him, rather than anger him, "because of the drugs and alcohol. I know that wasn't the real you."
He seemed to consider that explanation momentarily and find it agreeable. "It wasn't, Kira." Liar. "It wasn't me. I was out of control. But no one can know that. It would ruin me." But you were perfectly fine with ruining me.
I shook my head briskly. "I don't want to expose you, Cooper. I'll never reveal what happened between us. I'll take the fall. It's okay. I'll do whatever you ask of me. Just please, convince my father to take the hold off my gram's money. Convince him to leave us in peace. Will it really hurt you to come up with a new plan, one that doesn't involve me? Please, Cooper, if you ever loved me at all, please let me be happy."
Cooper worried his lip, appearing to contemplate my words. Hope leapt in my chest, and I moved a few steps closer. "You don't know everything he does, everything he's capable of. I know you're better than him, Coop. Don't align yourself with my father any more than you already have."
"What he does?" Cooper asked, moving a lock of hair away from my face. I glanced at the house, hoping against hope Grayson wasn't looking out the window. No, he was most likely still sleeping. I didn't want him to walk into the middle of this. I needed to convince Cooper to help me.
I shook my head. "He manipulates people for his own schemes. He even used Grayson. He's already hurt him, used him so terribly."
"Used me how?" came the cold hard voice next to me. I sucked in a ragged breath, my heart leaping. I hadn't seen Grayson because our cars had concealed him as he’d approached, and I'd been so focused on Cooper. I hadn't expected he'd be working today, but he must have been, at least for a short time. That's the direction from which he'd come.
"Grayson,"
I breathed, stepping away from Cooper.
Sugie came from behind Grayson, looking straight at Cooper and letting out a singular snarl, followed by two barks. My eyes widened. It was the first time Sugie—to my knowledge—had ever barked in her life.
"I think you should leave. My dog doesn't like you."
Cooper smirked. "I'm sure she's about as good a judge of character as you are."
"She doesn't lie," Grayson answered, his expression tight, his voice frigid. "She's a dog, not a politician. Get off my property."
"I was just leaving." He turned his attention to me. "You know my position, Kira. I'm as concerned about you as your father. We're here to help you. If you need me, call me. I'll be here in a heartbeat."
Grayson stepped forward. "I can assure you my wife will not need anything from you—either now or in the future."
Cooper stared at Grayson for a tense moment, my own breath suspended, and then he wisely backed down, turning and striding to his vehicle. I let out a harsh exhale.
Neither Grayson nor I said a word as Cooper got in his car and his driver pulled away, around the fountain, and out the front gates.
"What in the hell was that about? Were you crying?" Grayson asked, moving toward me, a look on his face that was a cross between anger, concern, and wariness.
"I . . . yes." I let out another shaky breath. "We need to talk, Grayson." I shook my head, my arms hanging loosely at my sides. "Can we go inside?"
He studied my face for a moment, the wariness suddenly taking center stage. Oh God, I was going to hurt him and he was already so hurt. Dread made my shoulders curl forward.
He led me toward the house as I tried my best to ignore my shaking legs and follow him into his office. I wondered at the choice, but perhaps he led me there simply because it was the nearest room to the front door. "Do you want to sit?" I asked.
“I'd rather stand,” he answered tersely. He was acting so business-like with me. I shivered, wrapping my arms around my body. "What's going on, Kira?" His posture and the watchful look on his face reminded me of a man expecting a blow.
"The money's been frozen," I whispered, my face crumbling.
His expression registered first confusion and then shock. "What? How?"
I took in a deep lungful of air. "My father . . . I don't even know the details. He's done something, made claims, tied it up somehow until they can be investigated."
"Okay, well, whatever claims he's made, they're baseless. That money's yours via the terms."
"I know," I said, my voice breaking. "But he can tie it up so long we're forced to start selling things just to survive. He can. He will."
Grayson swore harshly, running his hand through his hair.
"I'm so sorry. I underestimated him. I didn't think . . ."
Grayson stared somewhere beyond me, his expression an unreadable mask, quiet for so long, I wondered if he'd speak again at all. "Why was Cooper here and what were you talking about? You mentioned your father using me," he finally asked, bringing his gaze back to me. "What did you mean by that? Tell me."
"Cooper . . . he was just, I don't know, pretending to be concerned about me." I moved toward Grayson, putting my hands on his biceps and looking up into his face, using my eyes to plead with him. "Please try to understand what I tell you next. Please understand why I'm only telling you now. At first I didn't think it was necessary . . . and then the more time that passed . . ."
Grayson had grown stone still. "Spit it out, Kira. Now."
I turned away from him. "I told you how I interned for my father. I was frequently at his office. I'd overhear things . . ." I dropped my arms, turning back to Grayson who was listening intently. I shook my head, trying to find the right words. "My father, he's always had this idea that if he has influence with the local judges, he has the ultimate power." In that respect, he wasn't wrong. Truth didn't matter; facts didn't matter if you had the people who made the final decisions in your pocket. "He grooms them if he can, as in the case of Cooper, he curries favors, makes deals . . . He's done it for years." Power, it all comes back to power.
"What does this have to do with me?"
My eyes moved over the hard lines of Grayson's expression. "One night we were at his office after hours. I was finishing up a few projects as I waited for him. Judge Wentworth, the judge in your case," I glanced at him, but his expression didn't change, "came in to consult with my father on a few cases, one of which was yours."
"Go on," he said, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw.
I expelled a long breath. "I was delivering a file and I only overheard enough . . . enough to understand. It was an election year, see, and my father advised him to throw the book at you—give you the ultimate sentence to send a message that he wasn't only tough on crimes committed by the poor and minorities, but that he also delivered harsh sentences to rich white criminals, as well. It's all a game—a game of perceptions and manipulating "facts". The players don't matter, the individual lives don't matter—anything can be twisted if you come at it from the right angle. You were a pawn. It's the reason you didn't get community service or a minimum sentence like your lawyer believed you would. Because of my father you went away for five years. And I . . . I never forgot your name. That day at the bank, I heard it and I remembered."
I finally braved a glance at Grayson's face, looking for understanding, but although his skin had paled, his expression held nothing except cold impassivity. "And then you decided to use me, too. It was all one big set up."
I furrowed my brow. "What? No, that's not . . . running into you at that bank was like fate and I—"
"You expect me to believe that now? Using me is exactly what you did." He laughed then, an ugly sound full of disdain. "What a perfect way to get back at your own father. Talk about the perfect vengeance. Marry the man he helped put in prison—no wonder he was so livid. Jesus, you're just like him, scheming, using people." I was suffocating, the room growing dark at the edges around me, as if I had tunnel vision.
Scheme? Use people? No, I didn't do that . . . did I? I admitted I did often come up with plans and ideas, but they weren't used to hurt people . . . Suddenly I was sick and confused. I put my hand on the edge of his desk, steadying myself. Did I? Is that what I did? Had I done that to Grayson?
I shook my head in denial. "I didn't use you, Grayson, I wanted to try to make it right. I thought—"
"Make it right?" he yelled, startling me. "How have you made anything right?" He laughed again, running his hand through his hair and grabbing a handful before bringing his hand down again. "Was that the plan all along? Use me to get the money and then take it back somehow? Holy fucking God. You're all liars. And look where you've left me—penniless, shackled to a schemer, and now having to contend with your father again, the man who once ruined my fucking life!" His face had gone from pale to flushed, and his voice shook as he yelled.
"Grayson," I said, holding out my hand and moving closer, "of course I didn't plan it. You're seeing this all wrong. After what your father did, I can understand, but you're looking at this through the eyes of someone who's just been hurt very badly. Please, if we come together—you and I—we can think of something that will—"
He stepped back away from me, the look on his face full of disgust. I dropped my hand. "Come up with something? Still conniving, Kira? Just stop, I can't take anymore. It's making me sick. You make me sick. I'm just sick of it all—the manipulations, the lies, the half-truths."
I shook my head. "You're making this out to be something it's not. Please, just take some time to think about it. I'm not like my father. I'm not like your father." My voice ended on a whisper and I could hear the doubt in my own voice.
"This has nothing to do with my father," he spit out. "This has to do with you and the fact that I'll never trust you again."
I shook my head, denying what was happening, denying the cold distance in his expression. "I know it must seem like you can't believe in anything anymore. But you can believe in me."
"I thought I could."
A single tear slid down my cheek. "Grayson, I'm your wife. What we have together—"
"I can get down at the corner bar any day of the week," he said icily.
I put my arms around myself again, trying desperately not to believe his vile words. "I know you don't mean that. I didn't mean to hurt you. I love you," I croaked brokenly.
He leaned his head back and laughed, causing me to wince with deep hurt. "Love? Love? You know what love has gotten me in my life?" He picked up a paperweight off his desk and threw it hard at the window. The glass shattered as it hit, flying straight through and landing somewhere on the ground outside. I let out a little yelp. He turned to me, his hands fisted at his sides. "You don't love me. I was bought and paid for, nothing more. I acted the husband, didn't I? And now our business arrangement is over. Get out," he said. "Get out of my house."
"Get out?" I asked. "I'm your wife, I live here. This is my home—"
"Not anymore. I'm calling your father this afternoon and taking him up on his offer. At least the rest of the people who work at this vineyard won't have to suffer because I married you."
I hung my head and then lifted it to meet his eyes. "Please, Gray, if you'll just let me explain so that—"
"I have no use for your explanations or your pretty words. They all end in lies. Get out!" he yelled, his expression furious. I startled again and then let out one singular sob. I turned toward the door, flinging it open. I raced past Sugie who whined mournfully, following along behind me. Sobbing openly now, I ran to the master bedroom and stuffed clothes and toiletries in my suitcase. I was sure I was leaving a few things behind but was too distraught and grief-stricken to do a thorough search.
Hadn't I done this before? Stuffed clothes in a suitcase to make a hasty escape? Only that time someone was pursuing me. This time . . . this time I was being tossed out.
By my husband.
By the man I loved with all my heart.
And maybe it's what I deserved.
I bent down and looked Sugie in the eyes, rubbing my hands over her wounded head, attempting to control my harsh breathing. "There's my beautiful girl," I said. "You take care of everyone here, okay? And know I love you and that you're a good girl, such a good girl." I stood up before I collapsed in more tears and made my way down the stairs.