Beautifully Broken Control
Catherine Cowles
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
Bonus Scene
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Acknowledgments
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BEAUTIFULLY BROKEN CONTROL
Copyright © 2019 by Catherine Cowles and The PageSmith LLC. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Editor: Susan Barnes
Copy Editor: Chelle Olson
Proofreading: Julie Deaton and Janice Owen
Paperback Formatting: Stacey Blake, Champagne Book Designs
Cover Design: Hang Le
For Trisha, my favorite ballerina. Thank you for your friendship and for encouraging me to take the crazy leap into authordom.
And, as always, for my dad. I carry you with me on every step of this journey. Eternally grateful to be your daughter.
Prologue
Kennedy
A single bead of sweat rolled down my sternum, and my hand shook as I tried to wipe it away.
“Don’t.” The tech guy’s stern voice whipped through the small cargo van, making me jump.
“Geez, Whitley, would you calm down already?” Agent Carnes gave me a reassuring smile that did nothing to ease the rapid beat of my heart.
Agent Whitley turned his scowl from me to Carnes. “This case has been years in the making, and she’s going to blow it by covering the mic with her hand because she’s twirling her hair or some other stupid shit.”
I winced, slowly lowering my hands to my lap and resting them carefully on my Chanel bag. The purse was a lie, just like the rest of my life. The pale pink tufted leather had made me so happy when my mother had gifted it to me for my birthday, reminding me of the pointe shoes I loved so much. Now, just the feel of it made me sick to my stomach.
“Kennedy?”
My gaze jumped from the purse to Agent Carnes. “Hmm?”
Unease filled his expression. “You good on the plan?”
I swallowed hard, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. “Yes.” The slight tremor in my voice revealed me to be as much of a liar as my bag was.
Carnes scooted a bit closer, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stared at me without speaking for a moment. He sighed. “Look, I know this isn’t easy. But think about all the people you’ll be helping.” I said nothing, simply bit down on my bottom lip to stop its trembling. Carnes went in for the kill. “Think about your brother.”
The FBI had done their research. They knew the exact strings to pull to get me to do their bidding. My eyes traveled to the wall of monitors on the opposite side of the van, my gaze going a bit unfocused. It seemed impossible that what lay before me was real. It was as if, at any moment, I might wake up, and this would all be one epically long nightmare. “Tell me you’re sure.”
“Kennedy, you’ve seen the evidence. We could arrest your father right now, but we want a slam dunk. For that, we need a confession. You can get us that.”
I had seen the evidence. Hundreds of pages of documents I could barely wrap my head around. Spreadsheets and figures that meant the life I’d been living for the past twenty years had never really been mine. My father had stolen it all.
My hands pressed into the hard seat beneath me, the edges biting into my palms. “And if I do this, Preston is safe, right?”
Carnes reached out and patted my hand. “You signed the agreement. If you get a confession, your brother won’t even be arrested.” My hold on the seat tightened. “We truly don’t think he even knows about the Ponzi scheme, but you know how these things go…innocent people can get caught in the crossfire…”
The agent let his words hang in the air. The threat they’d been lauding over my head for weeks. Get the confession they needed, or my brother could end up in jail. My dad was going away either way. And as much as it killed me to even think the thought, it looked like he deserved it. My breath hitched. But my brother…he was good, and kind, and he didn’t deserve any of the shitstorm this was going to rain down on him.
I let out a slow breath and raised my head. “I’m ready.”
Carnes clapped his hands together. “Good. Remember, we’ll be able to hear everything. Just get him talking.”
I nodded and rose, squeezing by the asshole agent at the recording controls and slipping through the small opening Carnes had given me. My heart rate picked up its pace as I climbed out of the van and made my way through the parking garage. I passed by the Mercedes Coupe my father had gotten me as a high school graduation present, and my stomach roiled. How many people’s paychecks had been stolen to pay for that car?
The backs of my eyes burned as though the tears building there were made of acid. Hold it together, Kennedy. Do it for Pres. My hand shook as I pulled the building pass out of my purse and held it to the card reader. The elevator doors opened, and I hit the button for the top floor. Of course, it was the penthouse office. Nothing but the best for Davis Barrington.
My mind swirled around that thought as the elevator climbed. Was it that desperate need for the best that had sent Dad down this path? One where he took and took, knowing he’d never be able to give it all back?
My gaze drifted down to the damn purse again. I had the sudden urge to rip it from my body and send it hurtling from the top floor of my father’s Wall Street high-rise. But I couldn’t stop there. I’d have to strip off every piece of clothing I had on. Scrub off the perfectly executed makeup. Undo the expertly applied highlights in my hair.
And what would be left? A burn danced along my sternum, one I desperately wanted to rub away. I squeezed my eyes closed. I wasn’t just a pretty canvas. I was a dancer who expressed myself through movement. I was a friend who always listened when someone needed an ear. I was a student. A sister.
My brea
th hitched on the last thought, and the elevator doors slid open. A sister was maybe the most important thing of all. Preston had looked out for me from the day I was born, it was time for me to return the favor.
The office was quiet, the lighting low. The minimum requirements for corporate Manhattan on a Saturday. I wove through the cubicles, by the fishbowl conference rooms, past a plaque that held my brother’s name, finally stopping at the gold plate that held my father’s.
I took a deep breath, raised my hand, and knocked.
“Come in.”
I pushed the door open and took a tentative step inside.
My father sat with floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, the cityscape as his backdrop, and grinned at the sight of me. “Little Princess, what are you doing here?”
The nickname almost brought me to my knees. He’d read me the book as a little girl. We’d even taken a trip to India because of it, I’d been so enamored with the tale. And like everything else in my life that I’d ever wanted, he’d given it to me. He’d always been a good father. Even when we didn’t understand each other, I always knew he loved me.
I couldn’t reconcile the two images in my mind. The father who read me my favorite stories before bed, and the man who had stolen over a billion dollars from unsuspecting investors. None of the jumbled discord dancing in my head made sense.
Concern flashed in my dad’s expression. “What’s wrong?” He rose.
I shook my head, lowering myself into a chair opposite his desk. “Nothing, I—” My gaze flicked down to the microphone I knew lay taped between my breasts. I couldn’t do this. My hand reached up, seemingly of its own accord, twisting the fabric of my blouse, muffling the sounds in the room.
I met my father’s gaze. “Actually, there is something.”
Dad lowered himself into his leather desk chair. “Lay it on me.”
My whole body seemed to shake as I watched the man who had banished the monsters hiding under my bed. “Do you steal money from your clients?” The words tripped out of my mouth of their own accord, boldly spilling into the space between us.
My father’s mouth opened and closed like a fish trying to escape a hook. “What are you talking about? Of course, not. Why would you think such a thing?” My heart cracked as he rubbed the spot behind his left ear. It was his tell. My brother always thought I was bullshitting, but from the time when I was ten and asked for a puppy for Christmas, I’d known this was his giveaway. He’d looked me dead in the eyes while rubbing that spot and said I wasn’t old enough for a dog of my own yet. That bundle of brown and white fur Christmas morning had told me otherwise. Every time he lied to Mom about eating a salad at the club, he’d rub that same spot, and I’d know he’d had the steak.
I gripped my blouse tighter, tears welling in my eyes. “Please, don’t lie to me.”
A coldness that I’d never seen before filled his eyes. “Investing is a complicated business, Kennedy. I’ve built a good life for our family. You should be grateful for that.”
“I don’t want a life that was stolen from other people.” My voice shook as I spoke.
My father scoffed. “Oh, really? And you’d be just fine in a public school? No car or fancy dance lessons?”
My hand trembled as I tried to keep my hold on the fabric surrounding the microphone. “I could make it work.”
“Bullshit!” His hand banged on the desk, startling me into releasing my hold on the mic. I didn’t move to cover it up again. “I have slaved for this company. For this family. The least you could do is show me a little respect.”
“So, you did it?” I could barely get the words out, the truth of them burning my vocal cords.
“I borrowed some money from clients. There’s a difference.”
I wondered if my father believed the words he said; if they were lies he told himself every day. “So, you’re going to pay everything back?”
“Of course.” He rubbed that same spot behind his ear. He’d never pay a dime back. His gaze turned shrewd. “You never said how these questions came about.”
My blood heated. His selfishness, that unquenchable thirst for more, was going to destroy our family and so many others. I swallowed down the rage thrumming through me, did my best to not let it shine through in my voice. “I saw an email I shouldn’t have.” It was what Agent Carnes had told me to say, and it wasn’t as if my father guarded his computer or phone. I’d used both in the past week.
My father’s voice turned gentle, but the tone was a lie, just like the rest of our lives. “I promise you, Little Princess, this is nothing for you to be worried about. I’ve got everything under control.”
I forced the tension in my face to ease, tried to give him a small smile. “I’m so glad. I just wanted to make sure.”
Dad gave me his own forced smile. “Of course. You know you can come to me with anything.”
He rose and I followed suit. As he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to him, I was struck by the audacity of the situation. I wanted nothing more than comfort and security from the man who had ripped all my comfort and security away. Because the FBI had told me the reality of the situation. At the rate the hedge fund was currently earning, it would take my father over a century to pay back everything he’d stolen. And as soon as the truth came out, it would be a physical impossibility.
I let my fingers sift through my dog’s silky fur. Tried to focus on my breathing, and the cool night air as I stared out my open window. None of it worked. A knock sounded on my bedroom door, and I quickly swiped at the wetness under my eyes. “Come in.”
A face as familiar as my own appeared in the opening. My brother stepped through, closing the door behind him. “Twinkle Toes.”
I forced a small smile. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
Preston crossed to me, lowering himself onto the opposite end of the window seat so that he faced me head-on. My chest spasmed, anxiety drumming a quick rhythm against my ribs. Ever since I’d walked out of my father’s office, gotten in my car, and drove away, it was as if I were waiting for a nuclear bomb to detonate. Waiting to watch the radioactive material infect people far and wide. And clinging to hope that amidst all the destruction, my brother would be safe.
He gave my dog, Chuck, a little pat, and Chuck let out a snore. “Gotta take a break from city life every now and then. And I wanted to make sure you and Mom weren’t at each other’s throats with this gala next weekend.”
I swallowed hard. When I’d returned home from college a month ago, I’d thought the worst thing I’d have to face was my mother’s critique of my wardrobe, or her trying to push me on one of her friend’s eligible sons. I’d had no idea that my entire life would come crumbling down around me. “It’s fine.”
Preston’s gaze narrowed on me, taking in every detail of my face. “No, it’s not. You’ve been crying.”
My heart rate picked up its pace, but I urged my expression to remain blank and gestured to the open window. “Allergies.”
“Liar.” He shook his head but grinned. “You’ve always been the absolute worst at it.”
I’d gotten a hell of a lot better. Something twisted deep inside me. Guilt. So much that I was drowning in it. I wanted to tell him the truth. But it was against the deal I’d signed with the feds. And the truth…it was going to kill Preston. I closed my eyes against the renewed threat of tears.
I loved my brother. He hadn’t just been my protector. He’d also been my champion. He distracted Mom when she was being too critical. He helped me escape when the pressure of expectations from both my parents got to be too much. He whispered in my ear that I should follow my dream of opening a ballet studio instead of obeying Dad’s wishes to go into accounting or law.
When Preston learned the truth, it would rip his world apart. He’d worked alongside my father for five years, idolized him, did everything he could to follow in Dad’s footsteps. And the whole time, he was unknowingly helping to facilitate the robbery.
Preston squeezed my fo
ot. “Tell me what’s going on, Twinkle Toes.”
My gaze met his, my throat suddenly dry. Screw the feds, he deserved to know. “The FBI came to see me.”
“What?” Preston’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he continued. “Why? Are you okay?”
The concern in his gaze made choppy waves of guilt churn in my stomach. Guilt that heated with anger swirling beneath it. It all swam together with a healthy dose of fear mixed in. And it was all my father’s doing. “Dad’s stealing from his clients.”
Preston released his hold on my foot. “What are you talking about?”
“They got a tip from some colleagues, returns that didn’t add up. They’ve got a mountain of evidence, Pres.” My voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “He’s taken over a billion dollars.”
The pile of papers the FBI had set in front of me flashed in my mind. Evidence that had proven that my privileged and pampered life was stolen. Every dance lesson, family trip, and semester of private school. It was never mine. It belonged to the hundreds of people who had entrusted their life savings to my father.
Vomit crawled up the back of my throat. I knew now that it was so much worse than that. Families were going to find out that their entire livelihoods had been wiped out. Even worse, he’d robbed from his poorest clients to convince his richest of his investment prowess.
Beautifully Broken Control (The Sutter Lake Series Book 4) Page 1