Page 11 of The Billionaire and His Forever

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” He waves me off and takes a long sip of his drink. “I’m going to handle everything, okay? You just keep your head down and take care of my goddaughter. It’ll all work out.”

I want to believe my dad, so I do. He might be an asshole sometimes, but he’s also smart, incredibly cunning, and a freaking lawyer, so if he says it’s going to work out, he must be telling the truth. This is the first time I’ve felt the weight of this whole situation lighten up even the tiniest bit. Thank God.

We spend the rest of the day together. Jude even takes him on that trail ride she promised, Cassie and I following along a little ways behind them as my dad catches up with Jude. Dad tells her lots of stories about the old days when he went to school with Graham, making all of us laugh. Their college days were wild, and I always liked hearing the stories, but now they’re a balm to my soul. I was nervous about my dad showing up here unannounced like he did, but he’s been true to his word so far—he’s here to help. I’m glad Graham sent him.

Thanks to the debit card, I’m able to sit with Mary as she puts together an online grocery order and arrange for the estate’s weekly delivery, and then I volunteer myself and Jude to help cook dinner. Partly because both of us so desperately need to keep busy, but also because I’ve found myself relishing Mary’s company and I know Jude does, too.

After we’ve all eaten and retired to the living room, I finally get the call—the one I’ve been dreading. I step outside to answer it, trying to keep my voice steady as I say hello.

“Hello Miss Montgomery, my name is Detective Krohl. I’m handling the Ratliff case. We’d like to have you come down to the precinct tomorrow to answer a few questions. Would you be able to do that?”

“Yes. Of course.” I can barely breathe, even though the detective has a kind, soothing voice. “Anything you need.”

“Great. Can you be here at 9:30? We can send a car to get you, if you’re in the area.”

“9:30 is great, and I can get a ride. Thank you.”

“Thank you. Just ask for me when you get to the front desk. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

When I hang up, I realize my hands are trembling. That call lasted less than two minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

There’s no way I’m going to sleep tonight.

Chapter Five

Abbie

The next morning,I get up early to have coffee and toast in the kitchen with Esmeralda and Mary. I filled them in last night after I spoke with the detective, and even though my dad had offered to keep an eye on Jude while I’m in the City, Mary insisted that she’d be happy to do it herself. Which will work out for the best anyway, since it means my dad can do work on his laptop all day while Mary basically gets to spend hours reading romance novels in between escorting Jude to her lessons.

“We’ll make cookies this afternoon, too,” she tells me as I carry my dishes to the sink.

“Jude will love that,” I say, trying to sound normal. But my guts are churning, and I’m still freaking out inside about this interview.

Esmeralda must notice I’m not doing well, because she pats me on the shoulder and says, “Just keep your head on straight and your answers direct. There’s nothing to worry about.”

I nod and shoulder my purse and then head out to the driveway, where I find my dad chatting with Ronaldo next to the waiting town car.

“You’re going to be fine, sweetheart,” my dad says performatively, pulling me in for a quick hug. Lowering his voice, he murmurs in my ear, “Don’t fuck this up.”

“I won’t,” I say, jerking back with a glare.

Ronaldo opens the car door for me, and I slide into the back seat. Here goes nothing.

When I step out onto the curb at the police station almost two hours later, all I can do is stare up at the gritty brick building with a lump in my throat. I try to remember Esmeralda’s pep talk from earlier: stay calm, give direct answers. But how am I supposed to do that when the man I love is literally behind bars, and the one thing that could free him—a legitimate alibi—is a secret that I’m supposed to be keeping?

“Miss Montgomery?” a voice calls out.

My head snaps to the left, where I see a man in a well-cut charcoal suit and designer glasses smoking a cigarette. He’s young, maybe in his late twenties, but he also looks slick, polished in a way that instantly tells me he’s a lawyer. I’m instantly on my guard.

“Yes?” I say hesitantly.

He comes over and hands me his business card. “I’m Brooks Farris, a junior attorney at Bowen and Ellis. We represent Mr. Ratliff, and we’ll be representing you as well.”

“Are you the junior attorney with whom I spoke the other day?” I ask, eyes narrowing at the memory of how I was treated. “The one who called me Nancy Drew?”

“Pardon?” He looks confused for a second, and then winces. “Oh. Wait. I bet I know who that was. An unfortunate case of nepotism at its finest. I apologize sincerely, Miss Montgomery.”

If I’m not mistaken, I believe I just caught the slightest hint of a Southern twang—it reminds me of my mom’s accent, and I find myself warming to the guy. And missing her.

---