Page 179 of The Thief
Denis snorts. "I was not jealous."
"You absolutely were. Remember when Granddad cancelled that meeting with the Liverpool contacts because Alastríona had questions about family history? You sulked for a week."
"I didn't sulk. I was concerned about business priorities."
"You sulked."
Despite everything, I find myself almost smiling. This teasing, this casual affection between father and daughter, feels so normal. So wonderfully, beautifully normal.
"He really cancelled a business meeting for me?" I ask.
"Two meetings," Denis corrects. "He said blood was more important than money, and he'd waited too long to know his granddaughter to waste time on anything else."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Henry had prioritized me. Had chosen me over business, over the empire he'd spent decades building. How had I convinced myself that I didn't matter to him?
"I feel like I killed him," I blurt out.
The confession hangs in the air between us, raw and ugly. Holly's face softens with understanding, while Denis' expression grows fierce.
"No," Denis says firmly. "Trace Harrington killed him. Trace and his obsession with revenge for imagined slights."
"But if I hadn't been here?—"
"Then Grandda would have spent the rest of his life regretting never knowing you. He told me once that meeting you was the best thing that had happened to him in years. That you reminded him why family matters more than anything else in this world."
"I barely knew him."
"So? You think love has a timer? You think it takes years to matter to someone?" Denis shakes his head. "Love isn't about time, Alastríona. It's about connection. And you connected with him from the moment you walked through his door."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I saw it. We all did. The way his face lit up when you laughed, the way he'd change the subject whenever someone brought up business around you because he wanted to keep you separate from that world. The way he worried about you every second you were out of his sight."
Holly nods in agreement. "He loved you completely, unconditionally, from the very beginning. That's who he was. That's who we are as a family."
"But I don't feel like family. I feel like an outsider who brought death to your door."
"Can I tell you something?" Holly asks quietly.
"Of course."
"I felt the same way when my grandfather died. Seamus, my granda, Da's da."
I look between them, confused. "I thought Henry was your grandfather."
"Henry was my great-grandfather. Seamus was his son, Da's dad. He died protecting me, and I miss him so much.."
The pain in her voice is immediate and familiar. The same guilt I'm carrying, the same weight of survival when someone you love didn't.
"What happened?"
Holly glances at Denis, and I can see the pain in both of their eyes.
"My husband had a woman who was jealous. She hated me and worked with some awful people who kidnapped me. They shot Grandda, Finn, and Jade. It was awful. We thought we'd lose Finn too."
"I'm sorry."
"The point is, I spent months blaming myself, convinced I was the reason a good man was dead. Everyone kept telling me it wasn't my fault, but I couldn't hear them. I couldn't see past my own guilt."
