I lifted a shoulder. “I’ve hired the right people. It’ll be handled. Once it’s done, the house comes down.”
“And what will you do with the land?”
“I’m still thinking on it. But the symbol of this place, the power my father had over this town, needs to go.”
“I understand. All the papers are drawn up, the contracts signed. Anything else you need?”
“No.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
He left, the sound of his car fading away, leaving me alone in the house I hated as a child, loathed as a teen, and now planned on destroying as an adult.
I sat at my father’s desk, looking around the room. His seat of power—now crumbled to dust.
The same as his body.
Appropriate.
I opened the drawers, all empty now, the personal effects long removed. As I gripped the drawer front, I felt the edge of something with my finger, and I opened the drawer again, curious.
A key was fitted into the wood and I pulled it out, studying it. It was nondescript and dull, and I had no idea what it was for. I stared at it, nonplussed. Why would my father have a key hidden in this drawer?
I pushed back the chair, studying the desk. On impulse, I pulled out the drawer and studied it, then glanced at the desk. The drawer was shorter than the desk by at least nine inches. Using my phone for light, I peered into the dark recess, shocked when metal glinted back at me. A hidden lockbox. My father had a hidden lockbox.
Reaching inside, I grasped the metal box and slid it out.
It sat on top of the desk, innocent-looking, yet somehow, I knew the contents held inside would prove to be anything but.
With a shaking hand, I inserted the key and opened the lid. I stared down at the items inside.
I picked up a book, flipping open the cover. It was a journal belonging to my mother. There were envelopes addressed to me in her writing. Letters and documents. I was mystified as to why these were all locked away.
My breath caught as I saw the two piles of envelopes that lay at the bottom.
Rage built, anger crashing over me as I recognized my own writing.
“That fucking bastard,” I hissed.
A movement in the doorway caused me to look up. Sunny stood, observing me, her arms crossed, anger holding her head high, her shoulders tight.
My own emotions were so heightened, I drew on her anger. Welcomed it with my own.
Found myself hardening at the sight of the beauty her anger brought out in her. She was a fucking vision in her outrage. I dropped the items I was holding and crossed the room.
“Come to brave the monster in his den, Sunny?” I asked. “Get me in private so you can tell me what you think of me? What you think I did to you all those years ago?”
“I know what you did to me, Lincoln,” she replied, her eyes flashing.
Her use of my full name made me angrier. “No, you think you do, but you don’t.”
“How dare you show up today, just walk back into my life as if the last ten years didn’t happen?”
I stalked closer, so we were inches apart. I wanted to push her past the breaking point. I wanted to break through the rigid shell she had around her and find Sunny. To make her see Linc.
“I go anywhere I please, sweetheart. You might not realize it, but I own the building your shop is in.” I pointed toward the window. “I own every goddamn place in the town, just like my father did.”
“Is that a threat, Lincoln? Is that what happened to you? You became your father?”