If Ross put her up to robbing me, then he’d know the buyer. Even if Mian was as innocent as she claimed, it still meant that either Ross had someone on the outside who could get their hands on the book, or he knew someone he could sell the information to. I intended to find out.

There was one question that bugged me the most?

Why would Mian bother pawning a watch when she had so much to gain from selling the book? Theo had never moved so carelessly before to not collect at least half the money upfront. There were too many holes that shed light on Mian’s innocence, but I couldn’t ignore the evidence that made her look guilty either.

“So we’re not setting her free?”

“The book is still missing, and as long as it is, she’s still a suspect. If we find the book, and if she’s not behind it, we let her go.”

“She’s not going to take that well.”

“She’s not in control here.”

“Right. Because you have a handle on your feelings for her,” he said sarcastically.

“You have something you’d like to say?”

“Nothing that you’d listen to.”

“Try me.”

“You’re too soft on this girl. If you really feel nothing—if you really want to find your family’s book—then remember what she did to your family by stealing your legacy. Remember what herfatherdid to yours. Fuck man, this isn’t just about you. Art was the only pops Z, and I had ever known, and that motherfucker took him… fromall ofus.”

“What do you suggest I do, Lucas?”

“Find something else to motivate her because I can’t and won’t hurt a fucking infant. I don’t even feel right insinuating that I will.”

I took a deep breath, but when the ice in my veins failed to thaw, I embraced it. “I’m sitting outside her apartment building.”

“What the fuck? Why? I told you I already checked it.”

“I thought I’d check again and maybe find a clue on how to motivate her. I know her better than either of you do. If there’s something there, I’ll find it.” Silence filled the line. “Don’t question me again. Ever. If you do, I’ll begin to wonder if I can trustyou.”

I had nothing more to say. I hung up and moved toward the front door. Getting my head back in the game, I examined the piece of shitbuilding. It didn’t even have a security system to keep dangerous men like me out.

I walked right into the darkened lobby. The only two working light bulbs flickered, and the smell that met my nose was pungent. An out of order sign was taped to the elevator doors, so I made my way to the stairs. I hesitated at the bottom. The boards didn’t appear as if they could even support my weight. Slowly, I climbed the steps to Mian’s floor. Her apartment was the second on the right.

It was locked, but the door was flimsy, so I stood back, lifted my foot, and kicked in the door with ease. The door swung back and forth on its hinges as I walked in. One look revealed that Lucas hadn’t been laying it on thick when he described her situation. It was hard to believe that she even wanted to come back to this piece of shit.

As I invaded her space, the floorboards creaked and groaned. The walls were stained and cracked. The living space was tiny as fuck. The furniture was a fucking joke. I could tell after only thirty seconds in her space that Mian had nothing. I wasn’t even sure it was better than being homeless. She had no security or comfort in a placelike this.

The hall leading to the back of the apartment was short, and with only a few steps, I was standing in the only bedroom. In the far corner was a small crib that looked well used. The bed was just a mattress and box spring. The lime green sheets on her bed were familiar. The pillowcases were black as well as the thin blanket that looked handed down a few times over.

I expected pleasure over witnessing how far the spoiled princess was knocked from her throne, but all I felt was anger and shame. She shouldn’t be living like this. It wasn’t the life her father wanted for her.

She shouldn’t be a mother.

She should be studying liberal arts in college, drinking caramel frappe, pulling late night study sessions, and dating some pretty frat.

I moved through the run down yet clean apartment. There wasn’t much of the usual furniture or comfort items like a dresser or television. She kept clothes for herself and Caylen in bins. The closet was completely empty. The bathroom was clean but only held the necessities. There were tears in the white shower liner and tattered rugs to keep her from slipping.

The kitchen was just as depressing. On the counter decorated with chipped paint were a stack of bills. The first envelope was a notice from the electric company threatening termination if the bill wasn’t paid.