“And I talked to him about Cornelius Holton, who is now in IVI custody. That’s where I was. Interrogating him.”
“He’s in custody?”
Santiago nods.
“Did he…was he behind Colette and Ben’s kidnapping?”
“He didn’t drive the vehicle, but he was involved, yes. He was blackmailing Jackson. But you already know that part.”
I feel myself flush with heat. I’m sure he sees it too.
“Colette told him she’d spoken with you about it. I think she was hoping it would encourage Jackson to come forward on his own before Holton did.”
“I—” I croak but don’t know what to say.
He brushes my hair behind my ear. “It’s all right. I’m not angry with you.”
“I had come to tell you. The night you…the night I intercepted you on your way to the hospital with that knife. That’s what I was doing when I overheard. I was going to tell you what Colette said.”
“It’s all right, Ivy. Truly. Things got out of hand, but Jackson’s family is safe, and Holton will face The Tribunal for his role. And having Holton in custody brings us that much closer to your brother.” He picks up his glass and swallows the rest of it.
“How are things with you and Jackson? And with him and IVI? Is he…in trouble?”
“There will be consequences for not coming to The Tribunal immediately with the information, but he’ll be fine. Jackson is not a bad man.”
“What about with you? Will he be fine with you?”
“His uncle was the guilty party, and unfortunately for me, he’s already dead. I have nothing against Jackson, and I remember my debt to him for having brought the evidence forward that saved you both from The Tribunal and from me.” He pauses, considers. “What a history we have, you and I.”
“You’re really not angry with me? That I didn’t tell you sooner?”
“We all make mistakes. I hope you’ll be as quick to forgive mine.” He gets up, his face in shadow.
I look up at him, thinking what a strange thing to say. I’m about to ask what he means when he extends his hand, palm up.
“Come, Ivy. Let me take you to bed.”
25
Ivy
Something is wrong. I feel it. The next morning when I wake, I’m alone again. Although I know Santiago got a few hours of sleep, it was still dark when he slipped out of bed.
“We all make mistakes. I hope you’ll be as quick to forgive mine.”
His words keep playing in my head. They’re strange. And they certainly don’t fit Santiago. He isn’t one to forgive mistakes. Or maybe it depends on who has made the mistake? Either way, he is certainly not quick to forgive. The opposite.
I’ve tried to call him multiple times, but my calls only go to voicemail. Just like any time I try to call my father. To say I’m worried is an understatement. At least when I finally managed to talk to a nurse, she told me my father was fine. Just sleeping.
It’s not until two nights later when Eva and I are just finishing dinner that Santiago finally returns home. And by now, I’m angry.
But when I see the look on his face, the weary, dark expression, that anger quickly morphs into something else.
Walking behind him is my obstetrician.
“What’s happened?” I ask, quickly getting to my feet.
Santiago’s expression doesn’t change as he takes stock of me before shifting his gaze to my sister.
“Eva. Go to your room.”
I glance at my sister whose forehead wrinkles with worry. “Why? What’s going on?”
I turn back to Santiago in time to see him gesture to Marco, who comes to Eva. “Come on, kid,” he says, his tone gentler than I’ve ever heard him.
Eva looks at me, and I nod, and once I do, she goes. I’m left in the room with Santiago and the doctor.
“Sit down,” Santiago says as he comes closer, but I just back up a step, wrapping my arms around my middle.
“I hope you’ll be as quick to forgive mine.”
“Where have you been?” I ask.
“Ivy, sit down.” He takes my arms, tries to maneuver me around to the front of the chair.
“What have you done?” The words come out sharper than I mean, the feeling they leave behind dark. Full of dread.
“It’s not like that.”
And I know what it is. What he’s going to tell me. I know exactly.
“Say it,” I bite out, my eyes already warm with tears as my body begins to shudder with cold. I pull out of his grasp, my hands fists at my sides now.
The doctor speaks next. “Ivy, it’s not good for the baby if you get worked up.”
“Say it!” I snap at Santiago.
Santiago’s jaw sets, and again, I hear his words. “I hope you’ll be as quick to forgive mine.”
But I won’t be. Not if he did what I think he did.
“There was a complication, something the doctor missed.”
I hug my middle, my shoulders hunching as I back up another step, slipping into a chair now. I shake my head and don’t look at him. I can’t.
“He’s gone, Ivy. I’m sorry, but your father is gone.”
I close my eyes as his words echo. Gone. Gone as in I’ll never see him again. Never hear his voice again. Never hug him again.
Gone as in dead.
I shake my head and make myself look at him. “I don’t believe you,” I say, wiping the backs of my hands over my eyes. I force my legs to carry me as I stand. “I don’t.”
“Ivy, you—” He reaches for me, but I slip away.
“I called the hospital. I talked to the nurse. She told me he was fine. Just sleeping. She told me!”
Santiago glances at the doctor as if they’ve had some private exchange, but whatever it is, Santiago raises his hand just slightly as if to tell him to wait.
“I’m truly sorry, Ivy,” Santiago says, solemn gaze on me again. “He died a few hours ago. There was nothing anyone could do.”
“No.” I shake my head, walking a few steps away so I’m near the head of the table where Santiago’s place has been empty for two days. Gone for two days. The two days before my father has a complication out of nowhere. Two days in which my father, his enemy, the enemy under guard, the weak old man under his power, dies. “No,” I say again, setting my jaw. I reach for the steak knife Antonia had set for him. She didn’t even know if he’d be home or not. She’d fretted about keeping his dinner warm. “Tell me the truth.” I keep the knife at my side.
Santiago’s gaze drops to it momentarily before returning to mine. “Put that down, and I’ll tell you everything again.”
“Tell me now,” I say, and when he takes a step closer, I hold the knife out between us.
The doctor watches but stays where he is.
“There was a complication.”
“Something the doctor missed. I heard your practiced words the first time around. Tell me how! Tell me the truth, you fucking liar!”
There’s that tic in his jaw. I wonder if he’s counting to ten before he speaks. He’s not used to rebellion. Not used to people speaking up.