“I’ll use the money from your trust fund.”
“Are you here looking for my permission? Trust me, I realized the day I left that the money would never be mine.”
“Is it true? Is it Oliver?” Mom asked.
I clamped my mouth shut.
“Memphis.” Dad enunciated both syllables of my name.
That meant he was moving beyond angry to infuriated. “You realize that if this gets out, people will believe we’re linked to that family.”
“So?”
Dad’s eyes narrowed. “We cannot afford a scandal with the mafia. I’ve spent my life rebuilding our good name.”
His life’s work had been spent correcting his own father’s mistakes.
My grandfather had started Ward Hotels in New York.
He’d been extremely profitable in a time when other hotels had not. Dad had never confirmed exactly why, but when I was twelve, the FBI had investigated the business.
The only reason I’d known about it was because an agent had come to our home one day. I’d been sick and hadn’t gone to school. My nanny had made me stay in bed all day, but I’d wanted to watch TV. So while she’d thought I was napping, I’d snuck out of my room.
An FBI agent had been standing in our foyer asking Mom questions. I’d sat at the top of the stairs and listened to them all.
Whatever illegal undertakings my grandfather had done to get ahead, my father had unraveled them. Nothing had come from that investigation as far as I knew, and there were no illegal happenings at Ward, I’d bet my trust fund on it.
But our good name had become Dad’s obsession. Just the idea that I’d tangled with Oliver MacKay, well . . .
I doubted he would have flown to Montana had Drake’s father been any other man.
“None of this involves me. You have plenty of lawyers who can continue to protect your precious reputation. Sic your bloodsuckers on this woman, whoever she is. I don’t care.”
“You would turn your back on your family?”
“Be careful, Daddy. Your hypocrisy is showing.” I stood from the chair, done with this conversation. “My family is here. My son is my family. You know, that little boy you couldn’t even look at yesterday? His name is Drake, by the way.”
Dad stood, pointing a finger at the table. “We’re not done talking. Sit down.”
“I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye after you evicted me. So I’ll remedy that today. Goodbye, Dad. Goodbye, Mom.
Safe travels home.”
Without another word, I stalked to the door, whipping it open and storming down the hallway. The elevator opened almost immediately after I pushed the down arrow and once I was safe inside, I closed my eyes and breathed.
If they stayed tonight, I’d be cleaning their room tomorrow. Humiliation crept through my veins, and I squeezed my eyes tighter.
This was just one more hurdle to cross. They’d leave and eventually people would forget that Victor and Beatrice Ward had a second daughter. They’d forget me too.
The ding of the elevator chimed before I was ready and the doors slid open. Mateo was at the front desk, his eyes on his phone. When he heard my footsteps on the floor, he glanced over, ready to speak, but the look on my face must have changed his mind.
He simply nodded and let me escape into Knuckles.
There wasn’t much of a breakfast crowd. The hotel was quiet this weekend, but according to Eloise, every room was sold out for Thanksgiving in two weeks.
I hadn’t thought about the holidays. I’d never spent one away from my family.
Family.
That word didn’t hold much weight at the moment. It rang hollow in my mind.
But I had Drake. I’d always have Drake.
I stepped into the kitchen and, at the sight that greeted me, came to a full stop.
Knox stood at the sink, the water running over a potato, but he wasn’t paying any attention to the spud. He was pretending to snack on Drake’s cheek, earning a drooly smile.
The two of them together were so true and real that my eyes flooded. I’d left my composure on the third floor. The first tear streaked down my face as Knox glanced over his shoulder, finding me by the door.
He dropped the potato and smacked a fist on the sink to shut off the water, then he walked over and pulled me into his chest with his free arm. “I should have gone with you.”
“No.” I sniffled, reining in the tears. “It was best I went alone.”
“Are they leaving?”
“I don’t know. I hope so.”
“Memphis, you gotta tell me what’s going on.”