Page 1 of Beautifully Broken Control

Prologue

Kennedy

A single beadof sweat rolled down my sternum, and my hand shook as I tried to wipe it away.

“Don’t.” The tech guy’s stern voice whipped through the small cargo van, making me jump.

“Geez, Whitley, would you calm down already?” Agent Carnes gave me a reassuring smile that did nothing to ease the rapid beat of my heart.

Agent Whitley turned his scowl from me to Carnes. “This case has been years in the making, and she’s going to blow it by covering the mic with her hand because she’s twirling her hair or some other stupid shit.”

I winced, slowly lowering my hands to my lap and resting them carefully on my Chanel bag. The purse was a lie, just like the rest of my life. The pale pink tufted leather had made me so happy when my mother had gifted it to me for my birthday, reminding me of the pointe shoes I loved so much. Now, just the feel of it made me sick to my stomach.

“Kennedy?”

My gaze jumped from the purse to Agent Carnes. “Hmm?”

Unease filled his expression. “You good on the plan?”

I swallowed hard, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. “Yes.” The slight tremor in my voice revealed me to be as much of a liar as my bag was.

Carnes scooted a bit closer, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stared at me without speaking for a moment. He sighed. “Look, I know this isn’t easy. But think about all the people you’ll be helping.” I said nothing, simply bit down on my bottom lip to stop its trembling. Carnes went in for the kill. “Think about yourbrother.”

The FBI had done their research. They knew the exact strings to pull to get me to do their bidding. My eyes traveled to the wall of monitors on the opposite side of the van, my gaze going a bit unfocused. It seemed impossible that what lay before me was real. It was as if, at any moment, I might wake up, and this would all be one epically long nightmare. “Tell me you’re sure.”

“Kennedy, you’ve seen the evidence. We could arrest your father right now, but we want a slam dunk. For that, we need a confession. You can get us that.”

I had seen the evidence. Hundreds of pages of documents I could barely wrap my head around. Spreadsheets and figures that meant the life I’d been living for the past twenty years had never really been mine. My father had stolen it all.

My hands pressed into the hard seat beneath me, the edges biting into my palms. “And if I do this, Preston is safe, right?”

Carnes reached out and patted my hand. “You signed the agreement. If you get a confession, your brother won’t even be arrested.” My hold on the seat tightened. “We truly don’t think he even knows about the Ponzi scheme, but you know how these things go…innocent people can get caught in the crossfire…”

The agent let his words hang in the air. The threat they’d been lauding over my head for weeks. Get the confession they needed, or my brother could end up in jail. My dad was going away either way. And as much as it killed me to even think the thought, it looked like he deserved it. My breath hitched. But my brother…he was good, and kind, and he didn’t deserve any of the shitstorm this was going to rain down on him.

I let out a slow breath and raised my head. “I’m ready.”

Carnes clapped his hands together. “Good. Remember, we’ll be able to hear everything. Just get him talking.”

I nodded and rose, squeezing by the asshole agent at the recording controls and slipping through the small opening Carnes had given me. My heart rate picked up its pace as I climbed out of the van and made my way through the parking garage. I passed by the Mercedes Coupe my father had gotten me as a high school graduation present, and my stomach roiled. How many people’s paychecks had been stolen to pay for that car?

The backs of my eyes burned as though the tears building there were made of acid.Hold it together, Kennedy. Do it for Pres.My hand shook as I pulled the building pass out of my purse and held it to the card reader. The elevator doors opened, and I hit the button for the top floor. Of course, it was the penthouse office. Nothing but the best for Davis Barrington.

My mind swirled around that thought as the elevator climbed. Was it that desperate need for the best that had sent Dad down this path? One where he took and took, knowing he’d never be able to give it all back?

My gaze drifted down to the damn purse again. I had the sudden urge to rip it from my body and send it hurtling from the top floor of my father’s Wall Street high-rise. But I couldn’t stop there. I’d have to strip off every piece of clothing I had on. Scrub off the perfectly executed makeup. Undo the expertly applied highlights in my hair.

And what would be left? A burn danced along my sternum, one I desperately wanted to rub away. I squeezed my eyes closed. I wasn’t just a pretty canvas. I was a dancer who expressed myself through movement. I was a friend who always listened when someone needed an ear. I was a student. A sister.

My breath hitched on the last thought, and the elevator doors slid open. A sister was maybe the most important thing of all. Preston had looked out for me from the day I was born, it was time for me to return the favor.

The office was quiet, the lighting low. The minimum requirements for corporate Manhattan on a Saturday. I wove through the cubicles, by the fishbowl conference rooms, past a plaque that held my brother’s name, finally stopping at the gold plate that held my father’s.

I took a deep breath, raised my hand, and knocked.

“Come in.”

I pushed the door open and took a tentative step inside.

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