Chapter 19

NINETEEN

I needed something to cheer my girl up after that asshat refused to pull the docuseries, so when I get the text that I've been waiting for, I grin widely. I dropped her off at home at her insistence, but I hurry over now as Elijah waves the delivery truck in. I watch them unload it and inspect it before signing and taking the keys.

"Go away, Kage, I need to think," she calls through the door.

"Fuck thinking. I got you a present. Come see." There's a moment of silence, and then the door creaks open and she peeks out.

"If it's your penis, I don't want it."

"Not this time." Grabbing her hand, I pull her out and stop her before her dream car, placing the keys in her open hand. "Surprise, baby."

She gawks, running her eyes over the red supercar that we searched high and low for. I might have spent a small fortune buying from what I believe to be a drug dealer who really didn't want to sell it. "Is that the 1964 Ferrari 250 LM?"

"Not just any, that is your father's car. We tracked its history to make sure. It's the right one, right?" I worry, glancing from her to the car.

She nods silently .

"Do you want to drive it?" I urge her, pressing my hand against her back. "Go on, it's yours."

"Are you sure?" she asks softly. "This couldn't have been cheap."

"Baby, when are you going to realize I would buy this entire world for you? Or that I can twice over? It's yours, so enjoy it however you want," I tell her, needing to see her smile.

"However I want?" she asks, a strange look in her eyes as she glances at me.

"However you want." I nod.

She tilts her head, eyeing it, and then heads inside. I turn, confused, but she comes out a few moments later with an open bottle of Champagne in her hand. She drinks from the bottle, and then my eyes land on the crowbar in her other hand.

Prowling to me, she thrusts the bottle into my hands. "Hold this."

Blinking, I take the bottle as she swings the crowbar over her shoulder and turns toward the car. My mouth actually drops when she slams the bar into the side of it. It's a slow hit, but then she does it again, harder. She laughs as she walks down the side, dragging the crowbar along its perfect paint, the sound making me wince.

"Um, Fallon?" I'm so confused.

She stops at the back of the car and brings the crowbar down on the window, smashing it in. Glass shatters everywhere before she looks up at me. "He loved this car more than he ever loved me." She brings it down again. "He protected it more than he ever protected me." She rounds the car, and with a scream, she slams the bar into the window, smashing it in before slamming it against the front as she keeps moving. She brings it down again and again, getting into each swing. Her eyes are crazed, and her chest heaves when she turns to me. "You said it was mine."

"It is." I shrug. "Burn it for all I care. It's yours. I'll just be here, watching the show."

Her eyes land back on the car. "He used to shout at me if I even so much as came near this car. Now look at it, Daddy!" she screams. "Look at your perfect fucking car." She brings the bar down with each word before she presses one heeled foot against the hood and gracefully climbs up, standing on top of the car and bringing the crowbar down over and over again.

My eyes widen, but I can't stop myself from laughing when she blows her hair from her face and grins at me. It makes my heart clench. Her makeup is smeared, her clothes are falling off one shoulder, and her hair is a total mess, but she's never looked so beautiful and carefree. If I didn't already love her, I would fall in love all over again.

Taking a sip of the Champagne, I clap and cheer her on.

I watch her wreck what I thought was her dream car, but money means nothing. I'd buy a million of them if it would make her feel better.

Tears fall down her cheeks, though, and I hate how much this is hurting her as much as healing her. She screams as she jumps up and down on the top of the car, and I wait, protecting her from here. She climbs from the car and smashes the lights in before dropping the crowbar, silently crying. I let her, knowing she needs this. I'm just here for when she needs me.

"I fucking hate you," she whispers softly. "I hate you, I hate you, I fucking hate you!" she screams, her chin wobbling. "Why didn't you protect me? Why was this car more important to you than my innocence? Why wasn't I ever enough?"

My heart breaks, and I wish I could drag her father from the grave and kill him all over again for what he put her through. It's there in her tone—the hero worship, rejected love, pain, and agony.

She loved her father, but he didn't love her.

"I hope you're rotting. I really fucking do. I'm going to tell them all your dirty little secrets and let your reputation crumble. I'm going to destroy everything you worked so hard for, everything you sacrificed your life, your marriage, and your kid for. I'm going to destroy it and fucking laugh while I watch it burn," she promises, wiping her tears away.

I watch with fascination and pride as my girl climbs into the smashed car, turns on the engine, and puts it into gear before getting out. She grabs a rock and presses it to the pedal, then she comes and stands next to me, taking her Champagne and sipping it as we watch the car drive into her pool.

I chuckle. "Well, that's one way to cheer you up."

"I feel so much better now," she says, handing me the bottle. I take a drink, both of us watching the car sink in the water. "I suppose you'll leave now," she murmurs, turning her gaze to me, still glassy with tears. "Now that you've seen the worst of me, seen the crazy in me . . . I'm a mess."

I rub my thumb under her eyes, smearing her mascara like war paint. "No offense, baby, but you've always been a fucking mess, and this only makes me love you more." Turning to her, I cup her cheeks as I press my forehead to hers, the sinking car behind us. "I'm not going anywhere, so scream, cry, whatever you want, and I'll be right there through it all. Let them create stories and rumors because the only things that matter are what you and I think and that we have each other."

Our feet dangle in the water above the million-dollar sunken car. Two empty bottles of Champagne sit between us. Night has fallen, and the only lights come from the pool, illuminating the car and the backyard where we sit.

"Do you feel better?" I ask, breaking the silence we've been sitting in, as comfortable as it was. I'm worried about how she's feeling. She's felt and gone through a lot today, and she looks exhausted.

"Yes and no." She's quiet for a moment. "He loved that car more than life. He bought it with his first big paycheck, and it was his prized possession. It was more than a car to him. It was a demonstration of what and who he was. He cared more about it than he ever did me. Hell, he would show it off and protect it from drunk partygoers, but not me. I was a nuisance, something he could utilize. I was a prop, not a daughter." She laughs bitterly, taking another drink. "They all think they want the truth, but they don't. They want the rock star story he presented. Nobody will admit to what he was really like because it means admitting what they were like too. They were no better. I have lived with what happened to me when he was gone and they were quiet, but they are back, needing money and fame and using my past, my trauma, to make it, and I'm fucking angry, so no, I'm not okay. I don't think I will be until I destroy them."

She looks at me. "How fucking dare they? How dare they think they can use and abuse me like they did back then, expecting my silence? Well, I'm not the same helpless little girl I was then, and they don't get to come back and ruin my life again." Tears fall from her eyes, and she wipes them away. "I won't let them. I hated myself for letting it all unfold the way it did—never fighting back, never speaking out. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. I'll finally get to say my piece, and when I do, I'm going to watch them all burn. I want revenge, and I don't think I'll be okay again until I get it. I'm tired of being the good girl. I want to be messy. I want to fucking scream and misbehave. I want to act on every impulsive dark thought like everyone else does without worrying about my image. I want to be who I am on the inside without a man dictating what I should do. I'm so fucking tired of warring with myself just to be their perfect girl." Her eyes meet mine once more. "So I'm done. She's dead and buried like that car. From now on, this is me."

Cupping her chin, I press my forehead to hers. "And you are fucking perfection like this. Be what you want to be, what you need to be. I'll be behind you the entire way. If you want revenge, then let's take it. Let's watch them burn. I'll hand you the fucking matches."

She smiles, turning back to look at the car as silence fills the air once more, but it looks like a weight has lifted from her shoulders.

Leaning into me, she rests her head on my shoulder, and I can't help but smile as I press mine to hers.

"Tomorrow will be better," I murmur. "And the day after that, and the day after that. I'll make sure you have an incredible life, Fallon. Your enemies are mine, and your problems are mine. We'll do this together."