Page 64 of Sins of the Father

"You abandoned the entire case," he says, voice low. "Two years of work. Your father's justice. All of it gone."

I sip my coffee, thinking of Sarah back in Chicago, returned to her teaching job with strict instructions to never mention what happened. She recovered well, considering. Tougher than she looks.

"Not gone," I reply. "Just resolved differently than planned."

Doyle leans forward. "Differently? You're dating Cillian Kavanagh. Living with the family who killed your father."

"The lieutenant killed my father. Not the family." I place my cup down. "Vincent Collins ordered it. He paid for that."

"So the Kavanaghs claim." Doyle's jaw tightens. "Convenient story that absolves them while pinning everything on a dead lieutenant."

"I saw the evidence myself. And Collins' body."

"Evidence that will never reach a courtroom." He pushes a file folder toward me. "What about these? Financial records. Shipping manifests. Everything we needed for the RICO case."

I don't touch the folder. "Those were copied from their systems before I knew the truth."

"The truth? Or the version Cillian Kavanagh wants you to believe?" Doyle runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "They've gotten to you, Orla. Stockholm syndrome at its finest."

The comment stings. "I know exactly who they are. What they do."

"Yet you sleep under their roof. In their heir's bed."

My coffee tastes bitter. "What would you prefer? That my cousin died in that warehouse while your department figured out jurisdiction issues? That rival organization would have killed her."

"We would have found her."

"Cillian found her first." I meet his eyes. "And yes, I stay with him now. But don't mistake that for ignorance or manipulation."

Doyle sits back. "Then what should I call it?"

"A compromise." I slide a USB drive across the table. "Anonymous tip. Contains everything on Vincent Collins. His embezzlement. Orders regarding my father. Financial records. Everything needed for a posthumous case."

His eyes widen. "Anonymous?"

"No connection to me or any official investigation. Clean evidence trail leading directly to Collins. He acted without authorization, stealing from the organization."

"Convenient scapegoat." Doyle doesn't touch the drive.

"Justice for my father." I push it closer. "Collins killed him. Collins paid with his life. You can close the case officially now."

"So you get your revenge while the organization continues operating."

"I get my father's killer. You get to close a seven-year-old murder case. Clean resolution without jurisdictional nightmares or witness protection concerns."

Doyle picks up the drive, turning it over. "And you get to play mob princess with your new boyfriend."

The comment cuts, but I stay composed. "I make no excuses for my choices. I see them clearly. All of them. The good and bad. The protection and danger. The loyalty and violence."

"Your father wanted more for you than this life."

"My father wanted me safe and happy." I stand, leaving money for the coffee. "I've found a path that offers both, complicated as it may be."

Doyle stays seated, looking up at me. "Be careful, Orla. These worlds pull you under when you least expect it."

"I know where I stand." I adjust my purse strap. "The drive contains everything you need. What you do with it is your choice."

Sunday dinnerat the Kavanagh household buzzes with conversation as Niamh passes dishes around the formal dining room. Cillian sits beside me, his leg presses against mine beneath the table. A reassurance.

---