Page 19 of No Longer Mine

I didn’t have the patience for tears today.

“Where’s the psychopath we all know and are somewhat afraid of?” His voice cracked, frustration laced between the words. “Why are you running for office? Why is everything changing?”

In three calculated steps, I was in front of him, close enough that he had to tilt his chin up to meet my eyes.

He flinched—just slightly. But enough.

“I am still the psychopath,” I said, voice dropping low enough to make the air between us feel razor-thin. “But I’ve had to bury him a little deeper than usual.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

I leaned in closer, watching his pupils shrink under the weight of my stare. “I have big plans for this family, Griffin. And you’re either going to be on the right side of it—” I paused just long enough to let the words sink in, “—or you’re going to go down with the rest of them.”

A tense silence settled between us.

Griffin straightened, squaring his shoulders like he wanted to act unbothered. But I knew him better. I saw the nerves working beneath his skin, the way his fingers twitched at his sides.

“Yes,” he said, voice tight. “I understand.”

“Good.” I cracked my knuckles, exhaling as I let some of the tension bleed from my stance. “I don’t have time for games, bullshit, or debauchery.”

Griffin’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing.

He knew this wasn’t a conversation. It was a warning. If he was smart, he would listen and obey it.

“Mom wants us all to go to dinner next weekend—upstate.”

Griffin was the only one who called her mom.

I rubbed my temples. I had two fundraisers to attend. At this point, I wondered how New York City could have so many. I was getting tired of donating money to causes I didn’t really care about. If I wanted to give, I wanted it to be something that meant something to me. But alas, I had to keep up appearances.

“I have two fundraisers to attend.” I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay at home for once.

Griffin chewed on his bottom lip, and I realized that this was why he came here all along. He was our mother’s lackey.

“You gonna come to dinner at the estate?” he asked, voice quieter now.

I exhaled sharply. “Do I have a choice?”

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nope.”

Fucking fantastic.

Chapter Nine

Scarlett

Cleo counted the money quickly,her sharp, purple bob swaying around her neck as she moved. Her fingers worked fast, the crisp bills sliding between them with practiced ease.

“Two hundred thousand sharp.”

She’d managed to sell everything—except the diamond ring. The rest came from a few other small jobs I’d pulled over the last month. Petty jobs. Easy ones that didn’t require much planning or risk.

Not like the one I’d botched.

Not like Dimitri Cristof’s.

I swallowed the irritation rising in my throat. None of this was for me. I wanted to donate it, slip it into one of the fundraisers I was supposed to attend this weekend. The irony burned—I had to stay far away from them because he was attending both.

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