Page 109 of Callous Shot

My father laughed humourlessly. “Your mother and I… We have an agreement. Our marriage is a business partnership, first and foremost. Love matches—I’m not sure they exist. They’re the fantasy of foolish people.” He chuckled again.

“What…?” I was lost for words, but he was on a roll, barrelling on with his rendition of the facts.

“We each take lovers—” I shuddered at my father’s use of the word, and he rolled his eyes. “—discreetly. Unfortunately, your mother wasn’t discreet enough, but that’s beside the point. We built our career, our social network, our lives together. We’re a formidable team. If anyone were to discover that wasn’t the case, then our reputation would be in tatters. We would be no better than the Hoyton mob. Who would want to hire us if we couldn’t be trusted?”

You couldn’t be trusted if Frank Culverhouse had enough material to blackmail you with. “I see,” I said.

“Do you understand? We would lose everything. Our standing in the community, our⁠—”

“But that’s all built on a lie, isn’t it? You call the Hoytons criminals, but they’ve never hidden who they are. They never pretend to be people they’re not.”

My father’s face grew redder and redder during my tirade. “You will not speak to me this way in my own house. Do you need me to teach you a lesson again, like I did when you were younger?”

I straightened up to my full height. My father was an imposing man, still a little taller than me, but I had athleticism and muscle mass on my side. “What lesson are we talking about? The one where you broke my arm when I was ten? The one where you beat me until I was unconscious when I was eleven? I don’t know if it’s escaped your notice, but I’m older and bigger now. Try it, and you’ll regret it.”

“Don’t you dare threaten me.” My father stalked out from behind the desk, shoving at my chest. I shoved him back, freezing in place as the full implication hit me.

I’d fought back against my own father.

There was a faint creak from somewhere behind us, but neither of us paid it any attention, my father throwing his torso into mine, spitting in my face. “How dare you,” he snarled. “Your brother would⁠—”

“My brother is fucking dead.”

“And it’s a damn shame! I wish you had died in his place!” He swung his fist at me, but I ducked.

“I fucking know!”

He came at me again, throwing his bulk into the move and sending us staggering into a filing cabinet. Even now, I held back, years of conditioning keeping me from physically attacking the man who had never hesitated to get physical with me when he thought I needed to learn a lesson. When I didn’t retaliate, he bared his teeth, his face twisting with loathing. “You will apologise right now.”

“No. I’m not the one who fucked up. That was all you. Yeah, I’ve fucked up in other ways, and I lost someone who means everything to me, thanks to your fucking blackmail schemes⁠—”

His hand swung out, smacking me across the face, sending a stinging heat searing across my cheek. I grabbed his wrist and twisted, and he roared, tearing his hand away.

“You dare to— You dare to—” He seethed, clutching his wrist, his face almost purple. “I will make sure you lose everything. Your university education—gone. Your ice hockey hobby—gone. Your money—gone. Your home—gone. Everything. Gone!”

I slumped back against the filing cabinet, the fight draining out of me. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care. You already cost me the love of my life.”

“Harold!”

My mother’s cry tore through the air, freezing us both in place, and then armed officers were spilling into the room. Mike? What was Mike doing here?

“How dare you!” my father screamed as he was handcuffed, my mother clinging onto him and sobbing brokenly.

“Harold Bellingham, you have been arrested under suspicion of participating in an organised crime group, fraud and forgery, money laundering…” a stern-faced police officer was saying, but his voice seemed to be coming from far away. My body was shaking, my legs suddenly too weak to hold me.

“I’ve got you.” A strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into a warm, familiar body. “It’s the adrenaline crash. Here, have a couple of these. The sugar will help.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled as fingers gently pressed a red Haribo bear to my lips. When I’d eaten three of the sweets, I raised my head, meeting Daniel’s concerned gaze. He studied me cautiously.

“You with me again?”

“I think so,” I rasped. “What’s happening?”

He glanced around us and grimaced. “Uh…maybe we should find somewhere else to talk. Somewhere where your parents aren’t getting arrested.”

“Shit.” Rubbing my hand over my mouth, I took in the sight of my mother and father being led towards the door, both now in handcuffs. Mike passed us, deep in conversation with another officer, but he shot me a look that I read as “we’ll talk later.” Giving him a brief nod, I turned back to Daniel. “My bedroom.”

“Alright.”