I snorted. Eduardo always liked to sugarcoat things when it came to my father. “What are you saying? That he had a sudden change of heart while lying on his deathbed?”

“I’m saying that in the last days of his illness, he had a lot of time to think. About the past, about his legacy, and most of all, about his relationship with you.” Another, heavier pause in which I could hear Eduardo turning words over in his mind. “He found your mother’s letter at the beginning of the year when he was getting his affairs in order. Alberto wanted to tell you about it in person, but…” He hesitated. “That’s why I was so insistent that you visit him. I didn’t know how much longer he had, and some things are meant to be shared face-to-face.”

Wisps of cold stole through me and pulled my chest tight. “Don’t put that burden on me, Eduardo,” I said harshly. “You know why I didn’t want to come home.”

“Yes. I’m not blaming you, Xavier,” Eduardo said, his voice gentle. “I merely want to share the other side of the story. But for what it’s worth, your father didn’t read the letter. That was for your eyes only. He knew Patricia enough to know that was what she would’ve wanted. But seeing that letter from your mother…I think it forced him to think about what she would’ve said if she saw the two of you after her death. How she would’ve hated the way your relationship fell apart, and how it would’ve broken her heart to see him blaming you for what happened. She loved you and your father more than anything else in the world. Your rift would’ve devastated her.”

The gut punch from his words cracked the concrete wall I’d built around my chest, making my ribs ache and my throat close. “Did he tell you all that, or did you put the words in his mouth?”

“Half and half. Your father and I were friends since we were children, and we’d confided in each other enough that he didn’t always have to express his thoughts out loud for me to understand them.”

The safe-deposit boxes blurred for an instant before I blinked the haze away. “Fine. Let’s pretend everything you said is true. What does that have to do with the will?”

“I can’t say for sure. He didn’t tell me he was changing his will until after the fact,” Eduardo admitted. “I didn’t know about the new inheritance clause, nor did I know I would be on the evaluation committee. But you’re right. Alberto Castillo was not a man who would’ve overlooked such a glaring loophole, which meant he put it in there on purpose. I suspect…” This time, his hesitation carried a hint of caution. “It was his way of simultaneously extending an olive branch and pushing you closer to your potential. He could’ve easily cut off your inheritance unless you followed whatever terms he dictated, or he could’ve written you out of the will altogether. But he didn’t.”

An olive branch from my father. The idea was so absurd I wanted to laugh, but Eduardo wasn’t wrong. My father could’ve cut me off. It would’ve been his last big fuck you before passing.

I thought he’d changed my inheritance terms so he could manipulate me into doing what he wanted even after his death. That was definitely part of it, but…maybe there was more to the story.

Or maybe I’m naive and delusional.

“He didn’t sound like he’d had any change of heart during our last conversation,” I said.

Grow up, Xavier. It’s time for you to be useful for once.

My phone slipped in my grip before I tightened it.

“I’m not saying he was a saint. He had his pride, and I also suspect he thought you would’ve rebuffed any overtures he made. The last thing a dying man wants is another fight with his son,” Eduardo pointed out. “You don’t have to take everything I said as gospel. Those are my conjectures, not the hard truth. But allow yourself the possibility that it is true, and let that be your closure. Your father is gone, Xavier, but you’re still here. You can hold on to your grudge forever and let it consume you, or you can put the past where it belongs and move forward.”

Eduardo’s words echoed long after I hung up.

My first instinct was to reject his interpretation of events. I loved him like a father more than I did my own, but he was too biased when it came to his oldest friend and business partner.

However, what he’d said made a strange, twisted sort of sense, and it scared the crap out of me. I’d clung to my resentment toward my father as a lifeboat through the storms of our relationship. Without it, I might drown beneath a sea of regrets and what-ifs.

Billows of uncertainty followed me out of the vault and onto the street, where they dissipated beneath an onslaught of noise and activity. I knew they would coalesce again when I was alone, but for now, I happily pushed them to the side as I walked to my lunch date with Sloane.

People could say whatever they wanted about the city, but it provided distractions like no other.

Sloane was already waiting for me at the restaurant when I arrived. It was her turn to pick, and she’d chosen a tiny family-run restaurant nestled in the heart of Koreatown. It smelled incredible.

“Sorry I’m late.” I gave her a soft kiss hello before taking the seat opposite hers. “Eduardo called, and our conversation ran long.”

“It’s okay. I got here not too long ago.” Her eyes sharpened with knowing. “Did he call about your inheritance?”

“Sort of.” I gave her a brief summary of our conversation.

When I finished, her face had softened with sympathy. “How are you feeling about what he said?”

“I don’t know.” I blew out a long breath. There was one thing my mother had forgotten to tell me in her letter: how complicated life got when we grew up. Every year on earth added another layer of twists and drama.

Life was easy when there was only black and white. It was when the line between them blurred that things got murkier.

“I’m conflicted,” I said. “The easy path is to continue hating my father, but I have to…I can’t think about that right now. There’s too much going on. Speaking of which, I have something for you.” I slid a manila envelope across the table. Christian Harper had had it hand delivered by messenger this morning, and I’d been carrying it around all day. “I hope I didn’t overstep.”

Thankfully, Sloane didn’t call me out on my obvious deflection of topic. She opened the envelope and scanned the documents, her eyes widening with each word.

When she finished, her gaze snapped up to mine. “Xavier,” she breathed. “How did you…?”

“I know someone who specializes in information retrieval.” I tapped the envelope. “Pen’s still in the city, she hasn’t had any major health issues, and she’s with a new nanny. Hopefully, that means George and Caroline aren’t planning on shipping her abroad.”

It wasn’t much, but I hoped it was enough to put Sloane’s mind at ease. Sometimes, uncertainty was worse than the pain of any knowledge.

“Hopefully.” Sloane’s eyes gleamed bright with emotion. “Thank you. This was…you didn’t…anyway.” She cleared her throat and slid the papers documenting Pen’s whereabouts and well-being back into their envelope. Pink decorated her cheeks and neck. “You didn’t have to do this, but I appreciate it. Truly.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I was happy to do it.”

Our gazes lingered, the noise from the restaurant fading beneath the weight of unspoken words.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, throwing shadows beneath her cheekbones and highlighting the fine blond strands framing her face. The glacial-blue pools shielding her eyes cracked, revealing a sliver of vulnerability that grabbed hold of my heart and squeezed.

She was so fucking beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. I wondered if she knew that.

I wondered if she knew how much she occupied my thoughts and how I counted down the minutes to seeing her again when we were apart.

I wondered if I’d upended her life the way she had mine, to the point where the pieces would no longer fit if she weren’t there, because she wasn’t a pit stop; she was the destination.

The bullet from earlier dug deeper.

I opened my mouth, but Sloane blinked and looked away before I said something I regretted—not because I wouldn’t mean it, but because it would’ve been too much, too fast for her.

Disappointment and relief swirled in equal measure. “Speaking of calls, I got one from Rhea last night,” she said, effectively breaking the moment. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the pink on her cheeks darkening to a dusky rose. “She said a check mysteriously showed up in her mailbox yesterday. The sender kept their identity anonymous, but the money is enough to cover at least one year’s worth of food and living expenses.”

“Really?” I maintained a neutral expression. “That’s pretty lucky. I guess good things do happen to good people.”

“I guess they do.” Sloane paused, then said pointedly, “I mentioned Rhea’s address over Thanksgiving, didn’t I? When I said I would send her money to tide her over while she finds a new job?”

“Did you?” I picked up the menu and scanned it for something to eat. We should order soon; I was starving. “I don’t remember.”

“Hmm.” Sloane’s mouth twitched. “I’m sure you don’t.”

A small grin curled in response to her knowing tone, but neither of us pursued that line of conversation. Instead, we switched to something even more satisfying: revenge.

“Are we still on for Dante and Viv’s party this weekend?” she asked.

She’d told me her plan for Operation PW, and the party was crucial to its execution. It would also give me an opportunity to talk to Dante and hopefully get some answers. Most importantly, I’d get to spend more time with Sloane and her friends—not that I was angling for her friends’ approval or anything. But having them on my side couldn’t hurt, could it?

I smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”