Page 97 of Into the Blue
Chapter 29
He doesn’t speak right away.
My presentation of what the family dealings will look like moving forward is more organized and formal than anything he’s used to. I’m confident in my work as it’s this very same brain who earned her spot right here.
The office space that we’re currently in is not too far from the town center of Clayton Terrace and its luxurious finishing make this feel more like an actual business instead of the back alley transactional crap Junior had reduced us to.
The sophisticated conference room had been decorated before I chose the space. When I walked in, I knew this was the place for me. I didn't flinch at the color palette of deep navy and gold accents. Even the mahogany wood table reminded me of him in a way that was comforting. I was finally out of his grasp and free to chose and do whatever I wanted. Subconsciously, I had chosen—
Nevermind that.
With Liezel here now and Lidia keeping an eye on us—mostly her—I am comfortable in my position and the far end of the table by the large screen behind me. I slide my Birkin to the side of me on the table and go through all of my plans. My agenda was clear and well thought out. No stuttering and no shrinking to fit whatever meek idea he wanted of me.
I’ve bled too much to be silenced by a man who never once held me when I cried.
Especially not when that blood once came from his son.
I killed him.Not with my own hands, but it was me who signed that death warrant. I gave the command that put a bullet through his skull. I only wished that I had been there to watch the light fade from his eyes.
Like I had to watch when my mother's light left the world, never to return again. Because of Junior.
Because Senior denied me what was mine to begin with. If he had acknowledged me all those years ago, the coke would have never made it's way to The Chrome Flame. I would have been sure of it.
No matter, I did it for this. For the room I now sit in. For the table I was never allowed to touch.
Until now.
My father leans back in his leather chair at the opposite end of the table. He just watches me. Fingers tented beneath his chin, eyes sharp for his age and disinterest with this business anymore. I know he doesn’t see a daughter when he looks at me. He sees a threat.
A successor.
An executioner.
And maybe, for the first time, a true replacement.
“You really thought you’d waltz in here and the family would be waitin’?” My father finally says, his voice like old gravel—worn down and jaded by time and a hardened life. “You trying to prove somethin’.”
“I’m not trying,” I say flatly. “I already did.”
He tilts his head, and the room shifts around that tension. I didn’t expect him to come quietly. That’s why everything became bloodier than I wanted, initially. I’ll give him the cheatsheet version because despite how he has treated me, I still want him to be onboard with the direction the Lafayettes will be taking moving forward.
“I took out the damage your son couldn’t see coming,” I continue, keeping my voice low and clear. “With the choices he was making for this family it would be up in smoke and ashes and crawling with negative legal attention before the year ended. I’ve cleaned up more of his mess in three months than he managed in three years.”
He doesn’t interrupt. That’s how I know I’m finally getting throughto him.
“I brought back money, real money. Consistent and not at the cost of destroying the lives of our clientele. And I did it without asking for permission, and without using your name to shield me.”
His jaw sets, but he still doesn't say anything. I look over to Lee, who gives me an encouraging look and lifts her eyebrow silently saying, “Do it, girl. Finish him.”
My gaze flicks to Senior. “You can pretend that this is still about me trying to earn my place with you. But we both know the truth.”
He narrows his eyes. “And what’s that?”
“That it was always mine.”
Silence.
Then laughter—low and rasped. He pushes up from his chair and walks to the window, slow, deliberate steps like he’s dragging the weight of decades behind him. He glances over his shoulder, the edge of his mouth twitching upward like he both resents and respects the answer.
