Page 59 of The Billionaire and His Forever

Clearly, he’s pissed off. But what about? Did Graham just tell him about our engagement? Or, no—it’s far too late for that. Surely Dad has seen all the tabloids and news stories by now. He must know that my wedding was interrupted by police, that I was arrested, that Natasha’s first order of business upon waking from her coma was to point the finger at me.

I swallow hard. The shit has most assuredly hit the fan. Now all I can hope to do is some damage control.

“I had a meeting with my attorney. Do you want to come up and talk?” I ask.

His face remains sour, even as the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. “Oh, no, I’m quite done talking. You see, I just had the loveliest chat with your hus—oops, boyfriend. Sorry, no, that’s not right either. Yourex-boyfriend.”

My stomach curdles. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“A secret wedding, Abigail? Truly? What are you, five?” he says with a sneer, ignoring my question. “Not that it isn’tincrediblyromantic, of course—” This he says with dripping sarcasm. “But did you really think you could hide amarriage? Sneak the ceremony in your house, where no one knows, so no one can smell your filth? Now thewhole worldhas seen those photos of you. The bride in handcuffs.”

His cruel words hit me like a slap in the face. My eyes dart around the lobby as I panic about who else is within earshot of the vitriol spewing from my father. The last thing I need is for gossip about this encounter to get sold to the tabloids.

Dad continues, on a roll now, getting louder as he picks up steam. It’s almost as if he’s putting on a performance, the same way he does in court. As if he’s enjoying himself.

“Did you really think you could get away with stabbing me in the back? Or were you simply too ‘in love’ to remember where your loyalties lie? You know, I’ve never taken you for a frivolous girl, but I’m now forced to consider that you may be a stupid one. Especially if there’s any credence to the allegations about you trying to kill Natasha Ratliff.”

My mouth opens and closes, but I can’t speak for a moment. There’s a lump in my throat and my chest is constricted. I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me.

“Can we talk about this upstairs?” I finally choke out.

“No. I have no desire to grant you the courtesy, you ungrateful little wretch.”

“But—”

“We had an agreement,” he hisses, leaning in so close I can see the bloodshot whites of his eyes. “You knew the plan. But you abandoned it. Which I realized the second I found out I hadn’t been invited to your little wedding.”

I blink at him, aghast. This is all about his goddamnplan? “Wait, but—the last time we talked, you gave me your blessing. You said—”

“I was being fatherly. I never thought you’d still go through with it, only to cut your old man out the second his back was turned. Graham told me all about your little prenup, too.”

Fury distorts his features, his expression ugly. Suddenly, everything clicks: my dad was so pissed off when he found out that I’d tried to secretly marry Graham—and presumably keep all the Ratliff money for myself—that he decided to turn around and tell my husband-to-be about our original plan to extort him. Just to fucking ruin everything for me. Sheerly out of spite.

It takes my breath away. My adrenaline surges, my sight going dark around the edges.

I might be capable of murder after all.

He shakes his head, smirking again. “You should know better than anyone, princess, that Ford Montgomery does not get cut out of his own deals. So now you have to pay. Though I have to say, the murder attempt was a nice touch. I didn’t think you had it in you to do something so diabolical, but you know what they say: the apple never falls far from the tree.”

I square my jaw and throw back my shoulders. “I am nothing like you.”

“More’s the pity.”

Dad adjusts his cuffs, then sticks his hands in his pockets and starts to walk away. I’m watching his back, rage pumping in my blood, when he turns back around and says, “My condolences on the broken engagement, by the way.”

Everything slows around me, and my ears start to ring. “What thefuckdid you do?”

“Did you forget, in all your scheming, that Graham and I are friends? When I see someone trying to take advantage of a friend, I warn him.”

Terrors trips down my spine. The word barely leaves my lips. “No.”

He shrugs. “It was the right thing to do. Though I know you do struggle to separate right from wrong.”

My father is a fucking sociopath. He doesn’t look upset by this at all. He just ruined everything,everything good in my life, because I didn’t play by his rules. Because I fell in love. Everything is shattering all around me because I fell in love.

“Why?” I manage, torn between tears and screaming.

He leans in close and whispers, “Never mess with the bull, Abbie. You’ll always get the horns.”

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