“You’ve only been out of the hospital a day,” I growl as Morgan and I walk up the steps to Oscar’s house. “You don’t have to do this right now.”
Morgan squares her shoulders. I put my hand at the small of her back. If she’s doing this, I’m going to be with her one hundred percent. She just doesn’t have to do it only a day after we got back to San Francisco.
“You said yourself, it’s time.” Her steady tone wavers on this next: “Do you think he’ll even talk to us though? Raven said he wasn’t.”
The hatred in Oscar’s eyes after his heart attack rises in my memories. “He’ll talk.” I raise my fist to knock. “If you’re sure?”
She’s still so pale, her eyes too wide. I can’t tie her to the bed—although I wish I could—but she could at least wait until she’s stronger. Morgan reaches past me, knocks herself. “Yes.”
Dear God, but this woman is amazing. I run my hand down her back in one last show of support, then steel my expression to coldness. Oscar’s going to talk, and he’s going to spew some bile. I need to be ready to protect Morgan from him.
A man in scrubs answers the door, smiling when he sees us. “Oh, visitors! This will make Mr. Miller happy.”
It won’t, but this poor guy doesn’t need to be dragged into this. “We’ve got some sensitive things to discuss with him,” I say as we follow the nurse inside. “We’ll need privacy.”
He nods. “Sure, of course. I can remotely watch his monitors; that’s fine.”
“He’s on a monitor?” Morgan asks.
“His color is poor.” The nurse’s gaze darts between us like he’s trying to figure out how to deliver some bad news. “His condition is deteriorating. Slowly, but still…”
Morgan and I exchange a look. So we really can’t put this off any longer.
“Thank you for letting us know,” Morgan says. “We appreciate what you’ve done for him, and we’ll call you if we need you.” A polite, firm dismissal.
We find our own way to Oscar’s room. I’ve never been in this house before, but Morgan knows her way around. The place looks like any other house, but there’s something off about it, like it’s all for show. I can’t put my finger on it until I realize Ira’s house was filled with things that meant something to him. The walls were covered with pictures of him and the girls and people he cared for. I could tell stories about everything in that house and why Ira had them, stories Ira told me himself.
This house doesn’t have that feeling. Certainly it’s nice, but it gives nothing away.
I can tell we’re approaching Oscar’s room when I hear the whir of computer fans. I brace myself for the first sight of him.
The room looks surprisingly like a hospital room with the special bed and wires and monitors arranged around it. I don’t even see Oscar right away since he’s lost in the mass of blankets on the bed. There are no flowers, no get-well cards. Apparently Raven can bring fields of them to her sister but not to him.
No, there’s nothing but one old man and his reckoning coming for him.
He’s awake when we walk in, his eyes wide open. They’re surprisingly clear, those eyes. The rest of him is a wasted wreck though. He looks worse than he did in the hospital, a skeleton draped in the thinnest covering of flesh and skin.
Morgan inhales sharply next to me. I flatten my palm against the small of her back, reminding her that I’m here. I agree that he looks like hell, but I’m not shocked. He deserves worse, not that he’s going to get it.
“So you’ve won.” Oscar’s voice is a faint croak. It’s been so long since I heard his normal voice, I can’t remember what he used to sound like. Certainly not like that though.
“I’ve taken charge of my father’s company, yes,” Morgan says, steady as anything.
Oscar snorts. The mask of the jovial uncle is entirely gone, and there’s only malevolence left. “My company too. You always forgot that, you and your sister. And the rest of the world.”
She shudders slightly under my hand. “You would have been nothing without my father. All the innovations, everything the company ever accomplished, it all came from him.”
Oscar raises an eyebrow. “Is that so? None of the employees did anything? Like, say, Liam Meany?”
That lands on Morgan exactly how he wanted, making her stagger a little bit.
“What happened with Liam Meany?” she asks. “Did you kill him?”
His smile is terrible. “Your sister asked about that, but she didn’t really want to hear the truth. You’re made of tougher stuff though. Yes, I did. We needed to own that patent outright. If he was alive, he might make a fuss. So I did what needed to be done.” He sits up, leans toward us, and drops his voice. “Your father knew too. He approved. High-and-mighty Ira, Ira the genius, needed me to do his dirty work. You brag about his inventions, but without me, he never would have made it. Brains alone don’t win in this world. So yes, that company is mine too. I fought and sweated for it, same as your precious father.”
“Is that why you killed him?” I ask.
Oscar turns to me. “He was going to cut me out. I knew he was working on something with you, along with the rest of his lost boys. Turning you all into his little servants, loyal only to him. I’m not stupid; I saw what he was doing. So I moved first. Put that bug in the self-driving car you were so proud of and let fate take its course.”
I knew he did that, yet it still hits like a hammer blow. This piece of shit ruined my fucking life, and for what? Even if Ira was cutting him out, he would have still been rich beyond measure. Hell, he probably cost himself future earnings since the company never did half so well once Ira was gone.
“Was it worth it?” I snarl. “Killing your oldest and best friend just so you could be in charge?”
“Yes.” He says it as simple as that. “His daughters loved me, his adoptive sons did too. I took his place so easily in all your lives—I should have done it sooner.”
Morgan looks like she might be sick. Her mouth is compressed tight. “But we know what you are now. What you did and what you’re capable of. You’re going to die soon, alone, forgotten. And my father’s final, greatest achievement will be entirely in my hands, exactly like he wanted.”
“Did he?” Oscar draws that out serpentlike.
Morgan pales. He aimed right for her most sensitive spot, the bastard. Ira never let her in on company business even though she’s perfect for it, and Oscar knows that hurts. Fuck, we all know it was unfair.
Her mouth opens, closes. She has no comeback for that one. Rage moves through me, that this sick old fuck can hurt her like that. I move closer to her so that my chest is touching her shoulder. I’m here for you. Always.
“You never did get to read the notebooks he left, did you?” I tilt my head. “They only ever gave you a faked version. He wanted all of it to go to Morgan and Raven. And he knew you’d try to take it. It’s why he took us, his lost boys, under his wing—to protect and defend his daughters. To make certain his legacy went to them and wasn’t stolen by you.”
“And a fine job you did. So scared you ran away for five years.”
And now he’s swinging at my weak spot. Maybe even a week ago, before I realized how much I love Morgan, it might have worked. But not today. Not ever again.
“That’s right,” I say harshly. “You tried to kill me and I ran. But I came back, and you’ll never hurt anyone again.” I move past Morgan and start advancing on him. I can’t tell Ira he was wrong to keep his daughter out of the family business until it was almost too late, and I can’t punish my own father for hurting her with his insane paranoia, but this man is right in front of me, and he more than deserves all my hate. “You even think about hurting anyone else, or hell, even get out of that bed, I’ll finish you. You said you’d let fate work—well, here I am, motherfucker, fate coming to give you what you deserve.”
I’m standing over him now, growling down at him. His eyes burn up at me with hate, the same hate burning in me for him. For a moment we’re mirrors of the other, each waiting for the other to move.
Suddenly his eyes roll back in his head. There’s a rattle deep in his throat, almost coming from inside his lungs. And then… nothing.
The monitors go crazy. It’s surreal how loud and active they are compared with how still and silent Oscar is. Like they have to make up for it.
The nurse comes running in. “He…” He stops, looks at us. “There’s a DNR, but I can…”
He wants to know if we want him to try to save Oscar. Even in spite of the DNR.
Morgan holds up a hand. Her expression is wooden but resolved. “No, he wouldn’t want that. Don’t do anything for him.”
She’s crumpling inside though, I can tell. I pull her outside the room, leaving the nurse to deal with it. I catch her just before her legs give out. She’s not crying, at least not audibly, but everything holding her together up until now is gone.
“Oh God,” she gets out, “he’s so awful. And we never knew. All those terrible things he did and he admitted them and why didn’t I see?”
I press my lips to her hair, rock her gently. “He played a good game. We were all fooled, even me. He’s gone now. He can’t hurt anyone else.”
“The things he said about Dad…”
I don’t know what to say about that. Telling her my father was worse isn’t going to help—she’ll need to come to terms with what her father did in her own time and in her own way. “Ira wanted you to have everything,” I remind her. “And you do now.”
She looks up at me, her gorgeous eyes swimming with unshed tears. “I do, don’t I?”
Nothing Oscar said hits me as hard as that does. “Damn right.” I run my hand down her hair, thank God that I have this woman with me forever. “Always and forever.”
I move us both toward the front door. There’s nothing left for us here.
She resists slightly. “There’s going to be things to deal with, stuff to tie up.”
“Let the rest of them do it,” I say. “That’s why they’re here—to protect and shield you and your sister. You’re the bravest woman I know, but you’re still recovering.” I kiss her temple as I lead her out the front door. “Let me take care of you. It’s all I ever wanted to do.”
She melts against me. “As long as I get to take care of you sometimes.”
“We’ll care for each other,” I promise. “For the rest of our lives.” And then I take her home to make good on that.