“I have though, haven’t I?” It’s the conclusion I come to, knowing Jules was going to leave me. Again. That’s what did me in this time. I take in a heavy breath.

It’s all the lies too. Keeping track of them has pulled its weight in bringing me down.

I don’t even know what’s the truth anymore or who to trust. I only know that I hate everyone I’m surrounded by except for the one person who’s desperate to leave me.

“I need the truth,” I say, getting straight to the point as I stare my father in the eyes. Although I know it doesn’t matter, I add, “Don’t lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Ma—” my father starts, intent on saying something else, but I cut him off.

“You lie to everyone; why would I be any different?” I shrug my shoulders and stride closer to his desk, my pace quick and careless.

“What’s on your mind then?” he asks, his eyes narrowed and his frustration barely contained. He must see how on edge I am. I can practically smell the fear coming off of him. The fear of not knowing what I’m going to ask, or maybe of what I’m going to do. “You called this meeting,” he adds as he sits back in his cognac leather chair. He unbuttons his suit jacket and adopts a casual posture.

“Did you kill her?” I ask him in a whisper.

He cocks a brow at me before answering in a deathly low voice, “I’ve never killed anyone.”

I don’t know why his answer makes my lips tip up into a smile. It’s sickening that he doesn’t take responsibility. I nod my head, and a rough laugh spills from my lips. “I do apologize,” I say as I pace in front of his desk, letting my fingers run over the edges of the leather chair opposite his and then the next. “You had her killed.”

“You’ll have to be more specific as to whom you’re referring,” my father says as he flicks a switch.

“You think I’m wearing a wire?” I ask incredulously. As if the police could help. As if I wouldn’t be completely ruined if I turned to them.

“I don’t know what to think about you right now.”

I stop in my tracks and face him, bracing a hand on each chair. “I don’t either,” I say barely above a murmur.

“You were saying?” he says before his eyes shift to the door. This time I know why the smile comes. It’s because he wants to get rid of me. He’s done with me. It’s about fucking time.

“You killed my mother,” I say, getting the accusation out into the open once and for all.

“I didn’t. I can’t believe you’d think that.” I stare at him, hearing how false his words sound as they ring in my ears. “There’s a difference between killing your own and protecting your own.” My father’s voice turns hard and at first I think he’s justifying having her murdered, but then I realize he’s talking about Avery. “Your mother hurt me,” he says and leans forward, placing his hand against his chest as he adds, “but I loved her. I would have never done that to her. Or to you.”

“I don’t believe you,” I tell him. “I think you murdered her, and I think you want Jules dead too.”

“You have her under control, don’t you?” my father says although he knows damn well I don’t. After last night, the whole city is talking and now Liam is the topic of the day, not her or me. But three people know what really happened last night.

Jules. Myself. And my father. He knows she wants to leave me. He just doesn’t know why.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead he pulls out a desk drawer and reaches in, rifling through paperwork while he talks. “I looked into Liam’s books and subsequent finances.” A thick stack of papers lands on his desk with a thud and then he slams the drawer closed. “Would you sit down, Mason? You’re going to kill me with this,” he says and waves his hands in the air. “Just calm down.”

“Calm down?” I ask him before swallowing down the pain, pinching the bridge of my nose as I close my eyes. I’ve never felt quite like this. Only because the harsh reality has never been so clear to me.

“Mason,” my father says my name as if it’s a plea, “I promise you, I will protect you with everything I have. If that includes protecting her, I will. You’re my son. My one and only, and the only thing I have to live for anymore.

“Whatever it is that’s gotten into you,” my father continues as he breaks eye contact and shakes his head. “I said I’m sorry about Avery,” he adds and presses his lips into a thin line. “You weren’t here when she came in.” He turns in his chair and looks out of the window. “Or Anderson.” He runs a hand down his face and stares out at the city skyline.

“There are choices we make that have to be done quickly.” He swallows thickly. “I was only trying to protect you.”

I finally take the seat opposite him slowly and wait for him to face me. “No. Stop protecting me.” I shake my head slowly and hold his gaze. “I don’t want your idea of protection.”

“Well maybe this will help,” he says as he slides the papers over to me. “Liam Olsen is in the hole, and his life is falling apart.”

I hesitantly look through the stack, lifting the corner of the top sheet to look at the next and the one after that. They’re all copies of bill after bill he’s racked up over the last year.

“We need to talk about what happened the other night before the gala.”

It takes me a moment before I realize he’s talking about the man with the gun. The intruder with a syringe. An obvious fucking hit. “Someone was hired to kill Jules. I don’t know who or why, but it was a hit.”

“Are you sure?” my father asks me.

“He could have killed me, he could have turned when I was chasing him and shot me. But then again he could have killed Jules too.”

“Then why didn’t he?”

I remember the syringe, the heroin. I shift in my seat, staring at my father as I tell him, “He had a syringe on him. He didn’t want the hit to be obvious.”

My father’s expression doesn’t change; he doesn’t give anything away. “A syringe?”

“Filled with heroin,” I tell him and this time he breaks eye contact. He pulls his jacket down and clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable.

“Your mother,” he starts to say but doesn’t finish. I give him a moment, again remembering the way my mother lay there on the tiled bathroom floor. “So, this is where that shit is coming from?” His question is laced with feigned anger. More than anything, it’s a veil over his sadness.

I nod once, not trusting myself to respond verbally.

He nods, although he doesn’t look me in the eyes. “Your mother...” he starts to say again and then stops. He waves the thought away, shaking his head and dropping the discussion entirely. I’ve never seen my father so visibly shaken.

“I don’t see why anyone would want you or Jules dead other than Olsen. Even then, it would have to be because of money and I’ve made it clear to him that the debt owed to me is void. So killing you would most likely be related to some sort of quarrel between the two of you.” He finally looks me in the eyes again before adding, “After last night, there must be something between you two… Undoubtedly.”