Page 220 of Even Exchange

“What’s wrong?” my dad shrieks, running in the room, and he stalls in place upon seeing Grandma’s body. “What did you do?”

“What had to be done,” Mom grits out.

“Don’t you think this has gone far enough?” Dad exclaims, running to the body and assumedly checking for a pulse. “She’s not breathing.”

“Help me clean it up.”

We watch silently as Dad helps rearrange Grandma’s body on the floor. Wipes off the blood on the edge of the desk. Makes it look like an accident. And I realize why my mother kept this video. Why my parents’ marriage has been strained since my grandma died. Why Dad can barely stand to be in the same room as her. Why he’s never home.

She’s blackmailing her own husband.

Well, screw that.

Once upon a time, I made the mistake of holding on to a video. I won’t be doing that again.

* * *

“I didn’t want to help her cover it up, I swear,” Dad promises, eyes full of pain.

“I believe you,” I say because hell, I saw the video. He pleaded with her to call an ambulance, but she refused. “We need to bring this to the police.”

“I know.” Dad nods. “It’s time.” He shifts in his seat at Noah’s and my kitchen table. Noah is beside me, a protective arm resting on my leg.

“Did you know she had this video?” I ask.

“I didn’t at first. Not until I requested a divorce a few months after the incident.”

My lips part in surprise. “You wanted a divorce?”

“My wife murdered her own mother in cold blood,” he deadpans. “Yeah, I wanted a divorce.”

“But she was worried about the optics?” I pressed.

“God forbid the real world interrupt her political aspirations,” Dad scoffs.

My brows pull together, sadness consuming me. “If you knew she was dangerous, how could you leave her alone with us? Especially the kids.”

“I’m not proud of that.” He shakes his head. “But I hoped her violent streak started and ended with her mother. She’d always hated her.”

“But you weren’t worried about me?” I ask, chest aching. My whole life he was my protector—the one I could count on. I didn’t realize he was knowingly leaving me in danger.

Dad reaches across the table and places his hand on mine. “I always worry about you. But I know you can take care of yourself.” His eyes flick to Noah. “Although, it seems that won’t be necessary anymore.”

Noah’s grip on my thigh tightens. It’s nice Dad thought I could handle myself, but it doesn’t take away the sting of him choosing apathy over protection.

“So how is this going to work?” I ask.

“Well,” Dad says, “you are staying out of this completely.”

“What?” I scoff, annoyance filling me. “But I found the?—”

“There is absolutely no reason for you to be dragged into the depositions and hundreds of hours of legal prep this case is going to take. Besides…” Dad’s eyes fall to the nursery door behind me. “You’re new parents. Noah’s going to be busy with physical therapy for his arm. This is the last kind of stress you need.”

Guilt fills me again at the reminder of the injury I caused. And when my mind travels to Gabriella, I know I would do anything to protect her.

“Dad,” I say, tilting my head, “I can handle plenty.” And while I think I can trust him, I’m still not fully comfortable handing this over to him.

“I’m your father,” he says, tone firm but soft. “Let me take care of this. It’s too dangerous for your mom to know you’re the one gunning after her.”

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