Chapter 16

I waited till everybody left, i mean i literally sat there like an idiot watching the second hand drag across that clock, tick tick tick, louder than it should be, like it was mocking me or warning me, i don’t even know. the office was so quiet by then, just the buzzing from the overhead lights and the click of my stupid pen i kept clicking open and shut because i couldn’t sit still, and i knew dad wasn’t gonna come back until late, he never comes back before seven when he’s got those meetings uptown, but still i kept waiting, what if this is the one day he changes, what if this is the one time i get caught.

My legs felt wooden when i finally stood up, like they didn’t want to move. it’s so dumb, it’s just an office, just a door, and i know i’m not a thief but it felt exactly like that. the handle was so cold, i noticed that, colder than it should’ve been, metal biting into my palm like the room already knew i had no right being in there. i slipped in slow, not even breathing.

the air was thicker in there. not like normal office air, it was warmer, like it belonged to him only, polished cedar and ink and that faint cologne smell he leaves everywhere like fingerprints. blinds were half turned, sunlight cut into pieces, stripes across his desk and the carpet. i swear the stripes looked like bars for a second, like a cage, like i’d locked myself in the moment i stepped over the threshold.

i didn’t even hesitate though. i knew the drawer, bottom right, i’d already checked once before and i told myself i was just curious, just a peek, no harm done. but this time i went straight for it, hands shaking even though i already knew what i’d find. folders all neat, names lined up, like bones stacked side by side. Romano Construction – Contracts. like it was waiting for me. i pulled it out, it felt heavier than it should, like something alive.

flipped it open, skimmed pages until i hit it, that one sheet. cream paper, too thick, ink darker, like someone pressed down harder than necessary, almost carved the letters in.

Partnership Agreement – Romano Construction & Northpoint Holdings LLC.

just reading it made me feel sick. maybe because it’s too neat, too clean, too fake. no address, just a p.o. box like they don’t exist anywhere real. no names except that stupid signature at the bottom, M. Carrow. doesn’t even sound like a real person, more like a shadow someone scribbled. capital injections, discretionary participation, legal words that don’t actually mean anything when you read them over and over. and i did. i read the same line three times and it twisted more every time.

my stomach knotted so hard i thought i’d throw up. i folded it and shoved it in my bag, once then twice, because i couldn’t look at it anymore but i also couldn’t leave it. it felt like stealing, like i’d crossed some line i can’t step back over.

and then walking out, there’s Dom. of course he’s still there, bent over his drawings, pencil behind his ear like always. i walked by like i wasn’t carrying poison in my bag, like i didn’t just cross into something i can’t undo. “soon,” i told him when he asked if i was heading out. my voice sounded fine, like i hadn’t just lit a match in my own chest.

but i didn’t leave, i sat there longer than i needed to, tapping at my email like it mattered, just waiting for him to finish, like i wanted him to, or maybe i didn’t, i don’t even know. and when he did, when he locked the door behind us, i just blurted it—walk with me. why? why did i even say that? i could’ve gone home. i should’ve gone home.

but i didn’t.

two streets over, the coffee shop dragging in their chairs, the pavement damp still, smelled like rain and iron, we cut into that alley, narrow, half-lit, walls too close together. i pulled the contract out and shoved it at him. “i found this in dad’s files.” my voice was sharper than i meant it to be. he took it without touching me, which somehow felt worse, like i was toxic now.

he read it, his face gave him away, his jaw locked, his eyes flinched for just a second. tension. fear, maybe.

“where’d you get this?” he asked, voice too steady, and i said it straight, “his desk. bottom drawer.”

and he didn’t even argue about that, he just said i shouldn’t have gone in there, like that’s the problem, me looking, not what’s in there. i snapped back, of course i did, “why? so i wouldn’t find out Romano’s been in bed with some ghost company nobody’s ever heard of?” and he gave me that look like i’m a child, like i can’t possibly understand.

and then, without even warning me, he crouched down, pulled a lighter out, and lit the paper.

i swear my chest ripped open.

the flame took it so fast, like it wanted to be gone, like it was eager to disappear. smoke curled up, the edges blackened and curled, words vanishing right in front of me, gone like they never existed. i screamed at him, i know i did, something stupid like “what are you doing,” my voice all cracked, but he didn’t even blink. he just held it, then dropped it and crushed it under his boot, smeared it into wet pavement until it was mud.

i couldn’t breathe.

“that was the only way,” he said, calm, flat, like he hadn’t just erased the only proof i had, the only thing that made me feel like i wasn’t crazy. “safer,” he said.

safer.

safer for who? me? him? dad?

i told him he was insane, i know i did, i felt heat burning my cheeks, i wanted to slap him, to shake him, but all i said was “you think i’ll just forget what i saw?” and he stepped closer, so close i could smell the smoke still clinging to his jacket, and he said, “no. but destroying it means no one else can use it. not against you. not against me. not against your dad.”

and my throat closed. because that meant he admitted it. admitted it was dangerous.

“then tell me,” i said, i begged, i think. “make me understand.”

but he wouldn’t. he just stared, jaw tight, eyes flickering with something he wasn’t going to give me. “you’re safer not knowing,” he said, and i hated him for it. i grabbed his sleeve, fingers clutching, “stop deciding what i can handle.”

he pulled free. like i burned.

his last words before he walked away still buzzing in my ears—if you keep digging, you won’t like what you find.

maybe i already don’t.

home wasn’t home. dad was on the phone, laughing, pacing the living room, sounding so normal, so cheerful, like he wasn’t hiding anything, like he wasn’t tied to ghosts and burning contracts and secrets i’m not supposed to touch. i stood in the kitchen, staring at my bag like it was still full, like the paper hadn’t been turned to ash.

later i lay in bed, listening to him breathe beside me, steady, calm, safe, and i felt like i was lying next to a stranger. staring at the ceiling, replaying it over and over, every detail, the ink, the signature, the burning smell, Dom’s face when he saw it.

Dom thinks i’m safer not knowing.

but i don’t feel safe at all. i’ve never felt less safe.

and i can’t stop thinking—dad’s in this. whatever it is. my dad.

and i don’t know if i’m more scared of what he’s done or of what happens when i finally find out the whole truth.