An FBI agent had been standing in our foyer asking Mom questions. I’d sat at the top of the stairs and listened to them all.
Whatever illegal undertakings my grandfather had done to get ahead, my father had unraveled them. Nothing had come from that investigation as far as I knew, and there were no illegal happenings at Ward, I’d bet my trust fund on it.
But our good name had become Dad’s obsession. Just the idea that I’d tangled with Oliver MacKay, well . . .
I doubted he would have flown to Montana had Drake’s father been any other man.
“None of this involves me. You have plenty of lawyers who can continue to protect your precious reputation. Sic your bloodsuckers on this woman, whoever she is. I don’t care.”
“You would turn your back on your family?”
“Be careful, Daddy. Your hypocrisy is showing.” I stood from the chair, done with this conversation. “My family is here. My son is my family. You know, that little boy you couldn’t even look at yesterday? His name is Drake, by the way.”
Dad stood, pointing a finger at the table. “We’re not done talking. Sit down.”
“I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye after you evicted me. So I’ll remedy that today. Goodbye, Dad. Goodbye, Mom. Safe travels home.”
Without another word, I stalked to the door, whipping it open and storming down the hallway. The elevator opened almost immediately after I pushed the down arrow and once I was safe inside, I closed my eyes and breathed.
If they stayed tonight, I’d be cleaning their room tomorrow. Humiliation crept through my veins, and I squeezed my eyes tighter.
This was just one more hurdle to cross. They’d leave and eventually people would forget that Victor and Beatrice Ward had a second daughter. They’d forget me too.
The ding of the elevator chimed before I was ready and the doors slid open. Mateo was at the front desk, his eyes on his phone. When he heard my footsteps on the floor, he glanced over, ready to speak, but the look on my face must have changed his mind.
He simply nodded and let me escape into Knuckles.
There wasn’t much of a breakfast crowd. The hotel was quiet this weekend, but according to Eloise, every room was sold out for Thanksgiving in two weeks.
I hadn’t thought about the holidays. I’d never spent one away from my family.
Family.
That word didn’t hold much weight at the moment. It rang hollow in my mind.
But I had Drake. I’d always have Drake.
I stepped into the kitchen and, at the sight that greeted me, came to a full stop.
Knox stood at the sink, the water running over a potato, but he wasn’t paying any attention to the spud. He was pretending to snack on Drake’s cheek, earning a drooly smile.
The two of them together were so true and real that my eyes flooded. I’d left my composure on the third floor. The first tear streaked down my face as Knox glanced over his shoulder, finding me by the door.
He dropped the potato and smacked a fist on the sink to shut off the water, then he walked over and pulled me into his chest with his free arm. “I should have gone with you.”
“No.” I sniffled, reining in the tears. “It was best I went alone.”
“Are they leaving?”
“I don’t know. I hope so.”
“Memphis, you gotta tell me what’s going on.”
“I know.” I leaned away and looked up at my son. A beautiful baby boy with blond hair like mine.
And like his father’s.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
KNOX
It was noon by the time we made it home from the hotel. I’d called and asked Roxanne to cover for me again. So while we’d waited for her to come in, I’d busted out some prep work as Memphis and Drake had waited in my office.
The drive home had felt too long, just like the hours before. All I wanted to do was find out what the hell had happened with Memphis’s parents, but when we finally walked through the door at home, Drake started crying.
“He missed his morning nap.” Memphis propped him on one hip while she mixed a bottle with the other. Then she took him to the chair, settling him on her lap.
“Are you hungry?” I asked her.
“Not really.”
Yeah, I wasn’t either. My stomach had been in a knot since she’d walked into the kitchen with tears in her eyes. So I went to the couch and sat on its edge, propping my elbows on my knees. Waiting.
Drake finished his bottle in no time and then as Memphis held him, he quickly drifted off to sleep.
“Want me to take him and put him in the crib?” I asked.
“No, I’ll just hold him.” She looked down at her son and traced her fingers along his forehead, brushing the wisps of hair out of his face. “Some days it feels like he’s all I have.”
“Not anymore.”
Memphis looked up and there were those tears again. Seeing them hurt every goddamn time. “I told you my dad was angry when I refused to tell him about Drake’s father.”
I nodded. “You did.”
“He’s not used to being denied. I don’t know if I’ve ever actually heard anyone tell him no. So his ego is . . .”
“I get it.” I’d worked for chefs like that early on in my career. They’d get spun up about something trivial and go ballistic, simply because their arrogance made it so.
“When I refused to tell Dad, he pressed and pressed. The more he demanded answers, the less I spoke. It’s ironic because in the thick of it, he called me stubborn. I guess I learned it from him.”
“He’s an ass, Memphis.”
“Pretty much.” She sighed. “He could have just respected my wishes. I’d still be in New York if he had trusted me. If he had listened when I said I had my reasons for keeping the secret. Instead, we got into a huge fight and well . . . you know the rest.”
The rest meaning she’d fled home, moving across the country alone with an infant. Because Victor Ward couldn’t control his daughter.
Memphis glanced at Drake once more, her eyes softening. “Drake’s father isn’t a good man.”
I sat straight. “Did he hurt you?”
“Only my heart,” she whispered.
And for that, I’d hate the bastard for the rest of my days.
“Drake’s father is a man named Oliver MacKay.” She met my gaze as her shoulders slumped. “No one but you has ever heard that sentence.”
“No one?” Not even her mother? Or a friend?
“Just you.” She swallowed hard. “And I know you won’t, but I have to say it anyway. Please, never tell a soul. No one can know.”
No one could know? “Why? You’re scaring me, Memphis. If you’re in danger—”
“I’m not. Oliver wants nothing to do with me just as much as I want nothing to do with him.”
“Then why is this a secret?”
She dropped her chin. “Because his wife is the daughter of an Italian mafia boss.”
If my brain could have exploded, it would have. What. The. Fuck?
The room went still. The light outside seemed to dim, like the sun was covered in a cloud. And Memphis sat perfectly still, her confession ringing in the air as she clutched her baby boy.