I’m keeping my phone too close these days, one ear subconsciously bent to it, waiting for it to ping.
At least I’ve managed to finish my resignation letter, and I’ve even started to put together a plan for building the architecture of Dad’s neural-interface project. I’m going to need a good bioengineer here too—I’m sure Gideon’s got some people on his payroll who can help—since I’m not the person to be messing with actual neurons, but there’s quite a bit I can do on my own. And Dad left pretty detailed schematics.
I’m trying not to get too excited, but we could have this in clinical trials in humans in a few years, which is lightning fast for this sort of thing. If it lives up to even half the stuff Dad promised in his notes, this will change everything. We could help people recover neural functions after a stroke, create artificial limbs that integrate with the nervous system almost seamlessly, maybe even create actual cyborgs. But the good kind, not the evil sci-fi kind.
If I can get something going on this to show the board, it would knock their socks off. And if I can offer a rebranding of the company—I need to ask Cassian about that—along with a decent buyout offer for Oscar, my plan might work. I’d be in control of my father’s company, ready to launch the most innovative tech project in a generation.
I have to be careful though, because everything isn’t going to fall into place quite that easily. And Tynan is still out there, ready to claim his fair share.
Tynan is why I vibrate whenever my phone goes off. Because we’ve been texting like crazy the past few days. About everything and nothing, just small check-ins throughout the day. I still don’t know where he’s staying or what he’s up to, but I know what he had for lunch, how loud the birds are outside his window, how many espresso shots he’s downing each morning. Boring stuff, but I’m eating it up.
So when my phone starts to ring, my palms go hot and tingly even though the caller ID says it’s Raven. But it could be Tynan, spoofing the number again. I’m way too excited by that idea.
“Hey,” I say when I pick up, too bright and breathless.
“Oh my God, Morgan,” Raven says, dark and anxious. “I did what you said and I confronted Oscar and he said he did it. And then I told Bishop, but he knew all along.”
My heart slams into high gear for an entirely different reason. “Wait, what? Slow down. Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?”
She takes a long inhale, and I can sense her steadying herself. “I’m at home. I’m okay. Well, not really.” That last dissolves into tears.
Now I’m really worried. “I can be there in twenty minutes. Just stay—”
“No.” That’s so firm my head snaps back. “I’m fine, and I don’t need you to rush to my side.”
Raven actually sounds… pissed. Not at me but in general. “What happened? And what did I tell you to do?”
“You said we should do things for ourselves. Take charge instead of letting Oscar or the guys do things for us. So I did.”
She sounds so proud of herself, but she was crying just a moment ago. What the hell? “I meant that more… Never mind how I meant it. You confronted Oscar? About Dad?”
I can’t even imagine it. Raven, accusing Oscar of killing our dad. She could barely meet his gaze last time she saw him. Oh God, she’s in danger from him now. Oh, Raven.
I need to call Gage and get her security doubled. Tripled.
“No,” she says impatiently. “About Liam. Liam Meany. He all but admitted he had him killed. They didn’t put his name on anything because they didn’t want to share the profits with his family. And Oscar heavily implied Dad knew all about it. That he was okay with it.”
There’s a space between hearing awful news and really understanding what you’ve just heard. Having it hit you in the gut and lodge there. I’m stuck in that space, waiting for the blow, not wanting it to come, not believing it could.
And then it does.
“Dad did what?” I feel so stupid, repeating these simple questions, but I can’t seem to stop. My lunch suddenly wants to come up.
“I don’t know if Dad did anything.” Raven’s voice splinters. “But he had to know. They never gave the family what Liam was owed—they kept it all for themselves. Dad was just fine with it. In fact, he must have helped with it. That’s why he put all those warnings about Oscar in the notebooks, why he tried to keep this last project away from him—he knew exactly what Oscar was capable of, because he helped him do it before. Dad even profited from it.”
I feel every word like a punch, driving the air from my lungs until I’m dizzy and seeing gray. What they did wasn’t exactly illegal—if the family sued, they might have a case, but a high-powered lawyer like Dad would hire would win in the end—but it’s not right. I loved my dad so much, even if some of the ways he treated me upset me in hindsight. But I always, always thought he would do the right thing.
“They worked together,” I say, putting my head in my hand. “For years and years. Of course Dad would have to know. We were so silly to think he wouldn’t.” I sit up sharply. “Did Oscar threaten you?”
“Not really. He said I shouldn’t say anything so that Dad’s memory isn’t tarnished. I pretended to agree with him, that it was better for everyone if I keep this quiet. He’s not going to cut the brakes on my car. I don’t think.”
Maybe not. But if he knew Tynan was alive… I can’t even imagine what he’d do in his panic, who he’d harm. I don’t want to imagine because I know Raven would be first on the list.
“Please don’t drive anywhere, just in case,” I say. There are a million ways to stage an accident, but Oscar seems to only do it with cars. If she keeps away from those, at least until we can neutralize Oscar, she should be fine. I hope.
“I won’t. But… but I went to tell Bishop, like right away. And he already knew all about it, but he didn’t want to tell me because he didn’t want to upset me.” That fairly drips with bitterness. “So we fought about it and… I guess we broke up.”
Raven sounds as if she’s staring into an abyss.
“Oh no.” I put my head back into my hand. “So that’s why you’re not okay.”
Of all the dumb things for Bishop to do, this is pretty bad. But really, what else should we expect? The guys are constantly doing this, keeping things from us, and it looks like they haven’t learned a damn thing.
Somehow I don’t think Tynan was lying to me when he said he didn’t know anything more about Liam Meany.
“I’m so angry with him.” Raven sounds more devastated than angry, but it’s definitely there too. “He said some awful things.”
“Like what?” If Bishop was an ass to her, I’ll go right over there and give him a piece of my mind. And then some.
“That I made this house a shrine to Dad. That I wasn’t willing to hear anything bad about him. He basically said I was still a child. Or maybe I accused him of saying that—things got kind of fuzzy in the heat of the moment.”
“Well, fuck him,” I say with sizzle. If Raven wanted to keep the house exactly as it was—which okay, it’s a little strange, but not harmful—that’s her business.
Raven gets out a choked laugh. “That’s pretty much what I said to him. But… but I think he might be kind of… right?”
I take a moment to answer, remembering how she left my room, as if I’d never moved out at all. “What makes you think he might be right? Not saying that he is.”
“I did leave the house just as it was. And suddenly I feel like moving out completely.”
My eyes widen. This is like a breakup haircut, only she’s cutting off an entire house. “Don’t move out,” I say quickly. “You’re upset. Don’t decide on anything.”
“I’m not going to do anything tonight,” she says. “But tomorrow I’m going to change some things.”
What to say to that? Raven sounds really confident and not like she’s about to make a terrible mistake. And although I’d never admit it to a single soul, Bishop is kind of right. Keeping the house like that was probably good for Raven at first, but it’s holding her back now. I would love for her to move into her own place, come into her own more, but not because Bishop was a dumbass.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “I can help with whatever you decide to do. Or just come by and bring you some cupcakes?”
“I’m going to lie down for a while,” she says. “My head is pounding. But yeah, come by tomorrow. We… we have to talk about Dad.”
Yes, we do. That’s not going to be a fun conversation. “Sure. Drink some wine, watch a few funny movies, get plenty of sleep. I love you, sis.”
“Love you too. Morgan, I’m so glad I have you. I don’t say it enough, and I should say it more.”
Aw jeez, now I’m crying. “You say it just the right amount. And I’m so glad I have you too.”
After we hang up, I have a brief but cathartic crying session. Just enough to get some of the worst of it out. And then I pick up my phone and open the text string I’ve got going with Tynan.
I type so fast even autocorrect can’t keep up with me: Can I call you? Or you call me? It’s important.
In the next minute, my phone is ringing. No Caller ID, it says. I’m pretty sure it’s not somebody trying to sell me a time-share.
“Liam Meany wasn’t nothing,” I say as soon as I answer. “Raven confronted Oscar and finally got the truth.”
“Then what was he?” Tynan doesn’t waste any time on silly questions. His voice rolls down the line, calm, assured. Solid.
I think of everything that Liam Meany is coming to represent. Of a lot of what I thought I knew about my dad crashing down. Of how the guys my dad handpicked to “protect” the legacy he left us have been lying to us, at the very least by omission. Of how my sister is crying right now because of that.
And then I decide to take my own advice and take charge. “Can we meet to talk about it? Right now?”