Chapter 23 Come Back

I'm taking a huge risk that could very well get me killed today. If I die trying to collect evidence from my father, I'll never get the chance to stand in Foster's corner where I want to be.

So, I'm praying my own father, who has claimed to love me and protect me my entire life, doesn't murder me today.

My hand is about to knock on his office door when I pull it back. I have to swallow down the nausea that assaults me as I face my biggest fear. I should run. I could go to Boston, meet with the FBI, and then jump on a plane to California.

But first, I have to be brave and knock on this door. I check the device in my purse and make sure it's recording.

Tap-tap-tap .

"Come in, sweetheart." I'd messaged him telling him I wanted to discuss a charity event.

"Hi, Dad." I slowly enter his office and look around. It's a mess. Random papers and photos everywhere. A pile of magazines stacked high on the corner of his desk. A half-smoked cigar on a side table. Empty bottles of booze on his office bar cart. Cell phones scattered all over the place .

"Milana, Milana," he sing-songs. "You've been absent. I've missed you so much. I need to see your lovely face at Sunday dinners again. I need you working again. What on earth has kept you away?"

"I've been a little sick."

"Huh. And have you just come from the gym?" He looks at my workout clothes.

"Uh, yeah. I'm better."

"Well, good. All right. Listen. I'm glad you're back. I need you to do me a big favor."

As per usual, he doesn't ask me why I came here. He just launches into what he wants me to do for him.

If he was laundering money through the charity and I haven't been working, he could be having a cash flow problem. It's hard to believe a man as rich as him wouldn't have liquid assets, but I don't even know if he's as rich as he claims to be. Some of the debts I saw in his files make me think he's more desperate than he tells anyone.

"I get you don't want to marry Renzo," he starts.

Oh shoot. He's back to this again.

"But I need you to cozy up to him. Fuck him if you have to, but get in there."

Oh my Lord. My dad has jumped off the deep end. He wants me to sleep with Renzo to get close to him?

"Why, Dad? "

"He's a bad actor."

"What do you mean?"

"I was trying to spare you the details, but he's a pedophile."

My dad seems totally crazed and illogical, but this is all good. It shows he was out to get Renzo this entire time.

"I doubt Renzo is a pedophile. I've known him forever. He's never even been around kids."

"If you press him on it, he'll confess. Get it on tape for me. Will ya?" He rolls his hand like this is a normal thing to ask of me.

He's asking me to frame Renzo so he can extort him.

"Renzo is not a pedophile. What proof do you have?"

His lips press together in a thin line and his face tightens. I've triggered his rage. Good. I want him off balance. "Are you questioning me? I knew his father. He was scum. Trash on the street. Renzo's the same. We have to take him out."

I stand up and take a deep breath, shoulders back. Time to literally stand up to my father. "I'm not going to do that, Dad. I won't hurt Renzo. If he's doing the disgusting things you claim, call SDNY and they'll go after justice. Not me. "

He stands too and his hands rattle. He's unsteady on his feet and bending forward at the waist. "Justice? We have our own justice around here, Milana."

We enter into a long staring contest. My strength infuriates him. His face turns red and his fists clench. "You get Renzo on tape confessing or I'll kill you like I did Foster."

I can't hide my shock and a loud gasp passes in the silence of his office. "Foster's dead?" I whisper.

He nods and shuffles some of the garbage around on his desk. "He was a dirty cop. He screwed with you to bring me down. Now he's gone. Mess with one of mine, mess with me."

The lack of eye contact and his fidgeting with his papers make me think he's lying. I know now I can't trust him. "I don't believe it."

"Get your ass over to Renzo's place." He slams the desk. "Get it on tape and bring it back to me." He stomps around his desk and towers over me. "Do what I say or face the consequences."

I would not normally push him when he's on the brink like this, but I need him to lose his cool and tell me everything.

"Like Mom faced the consequences?" I say with venom in my voice. I want him to hear the truth. "Did you kill Mom for threatening to leave you?

His mouth clenches and sputters .

"If I threaten to leave, will you kill me too?"

"Your mom betrayed the family and now she's dead. You do the same and you will be too."

I'm not sure if that's enough but he looks like he's about to strike me so I have to get out of here, but there's one more confession I need from him.

"Did you kill Renzo's dad?"

His fist strikes my cheek. I stumble back and double over as the sting spreads through my head. "He killed Ricky."

The next punch knocks me to the floor, but I brace myself with my forearms. "You need to stop asking questions, Milana. You should hate Renzo too and get his confession. But you won't, will you? You stupid rebellious bitch."

The kick is coming next. No. He'll never kick me again.

Before his foot makes contact, I'm scrambling from the floor and running to the door. I make sure I have my purse clutched tight in my grip.

He grabs my hair, but I fling the door open and slam it against his face. I keep running. The pain sears my scalp, but as long as I run, I'll be okay. I have what I need on the recording. Now I'm in the hallway and there's other businesses out here. He won't beat me in public.

"Milana. Come back here. Come back! "

As I race down the stairwell, I catch a glimpse of long strands of my hair between his fingers. He killed my mother for disobeying him and he'll kill me too if I don't get out of here. I have no doubt now.

I'm slipping and sliding down the steps, taking them two at a time. The handrail is the only thing holding me up. I pass two men on the way down. Good. More witnesses.

I make it out to the street and run for my life. My heart batters a frenzied beat against my ribcage. The cold wind stings my eyes. I'm a fast runner. I can run away from here and he'll never catch me.

My Jetta is already packed and loaded. I have the map, my figurines, my lights, my bracelet, and Foster's jacket. I have a plan. Boston first, then California.

I'm never coming back to him. Ever. Goodbye, Dad.

I hope to God he's lying about killing Foster. If he's dead, it's my fault.