Chapter 35

THIRTY-FIVE

AELLA

A nother part passes me, and the woman to my left grumbles in annoyance as she picks it up to inspect it instead because I didn't do so. It's been this way almost all shift. All I can do is think about everything that's preoccupying my brain. There's too much going on. Even just in the house with Braxton and Miles. Let alone me having to wonder how my father figures into all this shit.

"You're too preoccupied today. You're missing too many parts," the woman to my left says. I don't know her name. I didn't take the time to learn everyone's name because I'm here under false pretenses. Once this is all over, I don't plan on staying here on this line. Not because he's my father or because I think I'm entitled to a position higher than this. Only because I need to live my life. One where I'm not pretending to be someone I'm not to get information.

"Sorry," I mumble, picking up the next part and not giving it a good once over before dropping it back onto the belt.

"Aella Montague?" a male voice shouts through the room, and the woman next to me elbows me when it doesn't register that he means me.

"Sir?" I call out, looking up.

He's stout and short. His knuckles are white and bulky as they grip his clipboard. Likely, he thinks having one makes him essential.

His heavily mustached lip curls as he makes eye contact with me. "Boss wants to see you." He inclines his head towards the door to get me to follow.

I make eye contact with some workers before stepping away from the conveyor. It's written all over their faces. They know it's my father who's summoning me. They know it's probably got nothing to do with work.

If they only knew.

As we approach Dad's office door, I swipe my sweaty palms down the sides of my pants.

"Here we are. He's ready and waiting to see you," the man says, turning and pointing towards the door.

"Thank you," I say, eyeing the door momentarily before turning the handle and pushing inside.

The door clicks closed behind me as I take in a woman sitting in front of my father's desk. She's dark-featured and pristinely dressed. When she turns to look at me, her eyes seem familiar, but I can't place them.

"Oh, sorry, he said you were ready for me. I'll wait outside," I say, figuring I've just awkwardly interrupted what looks to be a meeting between them .

Dad looks at the woman and me as I turn on my heel and grab for the door handle.

"Aella, stop," Dad says, his chair rolling backward as he stands. "You're not interrupting a thing. Please, come, sit."

I turn back and look at the chair next to the woman he's pointing at, licking my lips as nerves skitter inside my stomach. Something is off. Something in the air has my fucking nervous system on edge.

"Alright, then…" I move tentatively to the chair and sit down.

The woman smirks at me and looks me over but says nothing.

Dad sits and takes a few deep breaths, tidying already straight papers.

He's nervous, I realize. I also don't think I've ever seen him nervous.

"Aella, I wanted to introduce you to someone…" He trails off as he looks over toward the woman who isn't hiding how she's judging every morsel of me, down to my slip-resistant work shoes.

I'm spiraling in my head, wondering why he chose the middle of my work shift to introduce me to who I can only assume is his girlfriend, but then his following words stop my brain from working altogether.

"This is Susan Bardot. I believe you know her boys?" Dad says, and my heart ceases beating. The world stills; somewhere, a pig takes off from the side of a mountain and flies.

Know her boys? Yeah, I'd say I do.

"You…I…wait a minute…" I stammer .

Her lips curl in a smile. One that's so dazzling, and I can see why the boys spent their entire lives looking for her.

She had to have been their entire world.

"I know your boys," I whisper, turning towards her in my chair and glaring at her.

Her eyes. They're Miles's eyes. The hard edges bleed into soft pools of blue you could get lost in. Shit, half of me thought my dad was getting lost in their depths.

"You knew where she was this entire fucking time?" I spew, turning back toward him in anger. "You knew, and you let them believe she was dead? Fuck, you attended her funeral!"

I flick my gaze between them as Susan drops her face, agony sprouting from it as she greets my stare again.

"There was no other way," my dad murmurs.

It only makes me seethe more. There's always another way.

"When were you going to tell them?" I ask Susan pointedly. "When were you going to tell the boys that loved you so much they sunk into a dangerous world to find you that you were alive and well?"

"I wasn't." Her answer comes in a soft, sincere tone, and I almost feel bad for being such an asshole to her.

Almost.

"Why?" I ask, agonizing pleading melding into my tone.

"Because I didn't want to see this on their faces. I don't know you, and it still stings." She brushes back dark hair that had fallen into her face, tucking it behind one ear. "I couldn't stand to see their disappointment. Feel their anger."

"How fucking selfish." I cross my arms over my chest.

"Aella!" Dad chastises.

"No, Dad. It's selfish. And you? How are you mixed up in this fucking charade?"

His guilt-filled eyes flick down to the table, where there's nothing else to pretend to straighten, so his hands just fidget.

"He helped hide me," Susan says, but I don't look away from my father.

When he looks up at me, his face is earnest, remorseful. "I asked her to tell them—begged her. But she wouldn't have it. Said they were safe while James was preoccupied looking for me."

"Preoccupied? Safe? What are you talking about? Miles's father wasn't bad, right? He took in Braxton from the streets, after all. He couldn't be all that bad. I know he formed the Cobras, but they do good for the community." I sound like a raving maniac coming to terms with her surroundings. Like I'm realizing all my beliefs aren't fundamental, after all.

"Can't be all that bad," Susan corrects.

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused.

"He's still alive. Let's speak about him as such." Fear rushes through her face before she gains control over it.

I look at Dad, who's cracking his knuckles absently. "Still alive, sure. But he can't hurt you anymore, Sue."

The way he says her name twists something in my gut .

"So, what, you two have just kept in contact all these years? Are you still paying her? How did the cops not see through your ruse and take her right back home?" I have many, many more questions, but those are all I can manage at the moment.

Susan lets out a shaky breath.

"It's complicated," Dad finally says.

Tension builds in the space, and as I look between them, it's obvious what that tension is. I gasp and cover my mouth, standing up and backing towards the door.

"Aella, let us explain," Susan says, but I keep my eyes locked on my dad.

"Please tell me she's not been missing all these years because she ran away with you!" Tears pull to my eyes like a tide does to a shore with the moon's tug. "Please tell me while those boys suffered, you weren't having the time of your fucking life." This time, my words have a sharp edge, and Susan winces when they cut her.

"It's not what you think…" Susan's voice vibrates with the same pain my chest is swarming with. Pain for all the nights they cried themselves to sleep, thinking her dead. For every life event she missed—ones where they suffered alone.

I turn for the door, and Dad shouts, "He was going to fucking kill her, Aella. What was I supposed to do? If she stayed there, she would've died!"

I pause, not turning around but not making a move to leave.

He goes on after a sharp breath, "When she came to me and asked for help, she was battered beyond belief. One eye was swollen, the other bloodshot. Half the bones in her face were broken or on their way to healing. I couldn't let her go back. I couldn't stand myself if I let her go back."

A sob chokes in my throat, and nausea wells behind it as images of a beaten-down Susan play in my mind. I turn back, looking at her as she breaks and tears roll down her cheeks. When she turns, eyes raking over her savior, I realize her admiration for my father.

I can't help but see him in a different light until I think of my men. My broken-hearted men who've been searching and scouring the world for her. For what they lost.

Here she is.

"You left them with him?" I ask.

She bites her lip. "He never touched them—only me. I was the one who set him off. Never them. They were safe."

I don't know that she's wrong. I've never pushed them to talk about their dad. His taking in Braxton and building the Cobras to look for Susan had me thinking he was a fantastic man. It had me wearing rose-colored glasses.

I want to run home and pepper them with questions, but I don't know how to do this. How do I break this news to them, and why should I be the one to do it?

"I'm not doing your dirty work." I glare at Susan, straightening my back out as I double down. "You will tell them you're alive. Not me. You can't put this on me." Even though my tone isn't pleading, I know my eyes are .

"I don't want you to," Susan says, hesitantly standing and stepping towards me.

"Then, why? Why tell me now?"

"You were just going to keep aiding them. It took me a while to realize why you were working for me—I'll give you that much—but once I saw you by his bedside in that hospital, it all clicked. I knew you were trying to help them find her. While James is alive, that can't happen."

The shock of my father's words slam through my chest. "You want me to lie to them?"

Susan stops before me, her motherly presence washing over me and filling me with a sense of false calm as she grabs my hands. Her eyes are steady on mine. "No, sweetheart, we want you to keep it to yourself. Don't lie, but…omit."

"A lie of omission is still a fucking lie." I tug my hands out of hers.

"If James gets wind she's still alive, we don't know what he'll do, Aella. I'm a powerful man, but he's a vicious one. One I don't want to cross."

While I understand his stance, I don't back it. Now, even though I don't want to be the one to tell them, I feel it's my duty. Yet, to say anything to them betrays my only remaining family.

"I won't lie to them." It's the hardest thing I've ever had to say. But I love them; I know I do. I love them more than I've ever loved anything or anyone in my life. They love me. I won't lie to them and become a sore point in their lives, not over this. It's too big.

Susan backs away, sobbing. Her knees nearly buckle, and my father rounds his desk to pull her into his body. The moment is more profound than a boss hiding away his battered employee. It's much deeper than… My brain wakes up and sees them for what they are, and I nearly rage.

"You're together…"

Dad eyes me over Susan's head, threat written on his features.

I laugh, unable to help myself. "This just keeps getting better and fucking better. You're with her. So, not only will James come for her when he finds out what you did. He'll come for you, too, because you've been fucking his wife. Or were you two fucking all along?"

Susan cries harder, likely even more guilt chewing away at her resolve.

"Aella, watch your mouth."

"Or, what? I'm not five, Dad. I'm a grown fucking woman, and all I'm asking for is the truth. How hard is it to tell the truth?" My face hardens. "Oh, yeah, it's you two I'm talking about. Never mind, don't answer that. I'm going home. You two have made your fucking beds. I think it's high time you laid in them."

"Aella!" Dad shouts as I slam his office door behind me on my exit. I don't clock out, only throw off my name tag and bullshit work ID before storming out of the building and toward my car.

The audacity of them.

I can't believe they were just going to lay all this on me and let me be their fucking secret keeper. How the fuck did they think I was going to watch Braxton and Miles search and run themselves ragged, all the while knowing she was alive the entire time?

Who the fuck do they think I am?

When I realize Dad likely thinks I'm his daughter, and therefore, I can lie just as well as him, I rest my head on my steering wheel. Giving myself a moment of silence, I focus on breathing steadily.

How the fuck am I going to tell them?