Page 38 of Broken Strings

Chapter Twelve

Mina

"Good morning, Ms. Cord…" Marcus trails off with an uncomfortable cough when I narrow my eyes on him. "My apologies, ma'am. I meant, good morning, Ms. McGregor."

"Better," I say, marching off the elevator to tackle whatever fresh hell waits in my father's office this morning. Unlike everyother morning, however, the task doesn't seem so freaking impossible. For once, it seems…simple.

Maybe because I spent the night with Grayson wrapped around me while our daughter slept right down the hall. Or maybe because I woke up this morning to the two of them in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. My heart is full in a way it never has been before. Even before Grayson disappeared, it wasn't like this.

I had one love of my life then—him. Now, I have two. The man of my dreams and the daughter we made together. And we're finally, finally in one place, under one roof. It feels like all of my dreams are coming true.

"What's on the agenda today, Marcus?"

"Riley Jamison requested a meeting with you," he says, falling into step beside me. "She also requested that your husband attend."

I glance at him sharply. "My husband?"

He coughs discreetly, avoiding my gaze. "Grayson. Ah, I believe he's going by Priest now."

My brows furrow as I study him. "You recognized him when he stopped by the other day, didn't you?"

Marcus nods.

I stop walking, my heart pounding against my ribcage. "Marcus, can I ask you a question?"

"Yes, ma'am," he says, reluctance written all over his face.

"How much do you know about why I stopped speaking to my father? You worked for him for a long time. You were his most trusted employee," I point out, scrutinizing his expression, looking for any hint that…what? I'm not sure exactly. But ever since Grayson came back, the pieces have started slipping into place, and the way they fit is terrifying, honestly.

My father never wanted me with him. He sent him to Mexico. He convinced me to have him declared dead. Grayson and Ihaven't really talked about it yet—I think we're both carefully avoiding the subject—but I know he thinks my father is the one who had him run off the road and kidnapped. He sent Grayson to Mexico to die, and he was so damn determined to have him declared dead because he needed him to be dead. He needed to close that chapter so he didn't have to think about whether his sins might come back to haunt him.

And I gave him exactly what he wanted. I bent to his wishes. I let him wear me down. But it came with a price. Because having Grayson declared dead didn't kill my love for him. It killed whatever love I had left for my father. He lost me the day we buried that empty casket, and he lost his granddaughter, too.

Do I think my father is the reason Grayson was lost for six years? Do I believe he destroyed our lives? I've always believed it. And it still hurts a hell of a lot more than it should. I hate him for it. God, I hate him with every fiber of my being for what he's done. But…some tiny little piece of my heart still clings to love for him, too. And that's the part that hurts.

I don't want to feel a damn thing for him. I want him to rot in hell. But the little girl who used to love him like crazy? The one who thought he wanted the best for her? Well, she still wishes he could have found a way to be as happy for her as she was.

A shadow passes across Marcus's face…and I guess I have my answer. But I ask anyway. Because I have to know. Because, dammit all, for once in my life, I deserve the truth about exactly who and what my father was and what he did.

"He did it, didn't he?" I whisper.

Marcus hesitates for a long moment, and then he sighs. "I believe so, Ms. McGregor," he finally says, his expression bleak. "I believe so. He had…connections in Mexico. People who owed him favors. Once Mr. McGregor disappeared, he stopped talking about those favors."

I jerk my chin in a nod, my throat so raw it feels like it's bleeding.

"For what it's worth," he says after a moment. "I think he lived long enough to regret what he did. He wasn't the same after you left."

"It doesn't help, but thank you," I whisper, placing a grateful hand on his arm. I hope he did live long enough to regret it. I hope the guilt ate at him every day. And I hope the fact that he never got to know his granddaughter made his life the same hell he turned ours into. And wherever he is now, I hope he knows that Grayson is back and that we're going to be happier than ever while he rots. Because that's what we deserve.

I clear my throat, glancing at Marcus. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course," he says, unfailingly polite.

"Find someone to run this God-forsaken company until I sell it. I want nothing to do with it."

His eyes widen. "Uh, of course, Ms. McGregor."

"Make sure they're worth it, Marcus. I don't want anyone to suffer just because I hate the old bastard."