Chapter 2: [Ronan]

I stood in front of my father’s grave with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other.

The cemetery was quiet, with only a few people scattered between the rows of graves. I preferred it that way. There was something about being here alone that made it easier to speak to the man I had spent eleven years wishing could answer me.

I placed the glasses on the stone ledge and opened the bottle before pouring myself a drink. I filled the second glass and set it right beside my father’s name.

“Don’t get too excited,” I muttered. “I know this isn’t your favorite.”

I took a sip, then looked at the untouched glass. “You’d probably complain about it anyway.”

The corner of my mouth lifted briefly. I could almost hear Arthur’s voice.

For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if my father were still alive. Arthur would probably be sitting across from me, making some smart comment about the wine and asking why I was wasting my morning when there was work waiting for me.

My father should have been here.

Eleven years had passed, yet there were still moments when the reality of Arthur’s death felt as fresh as it had the day I found out.

Arthur was gone. The man who had killed him was still alive.

Alan Pruitt had spent eleven years in prison for murdering my father, while Alan’s son had grown up, gone to university, found a job, and continued living his life.

He had been allowed to keep breathing while I had been left with a grave.

I looked at the second glass. “Your killer’s son is still out there,” I said quietly. “Living like none of this ever happened.”

My fingers tightened around my glass. “I haven’t forgotten you, Dad. And I won’t let them forget either.”

The sound of footsteps behind me made me turn.

Victor stopped a few feet away and waited until I acknowledged him.

“Sir, the car is ready. You have a meeting in less than thirty minutes.”

I finished my wine and placed the glass beside the other one.

I adjusted my cufflinks, straightened my tie, and gave my father’s grave one final look.

“I’ll come back.”

By the time I reached the car, the softness had disappeared from my face. Whatever I had allowed myself to feel at the grave stayed behind with my father.

Victor opened the back door for me.

I was about to get in when I stopped. “How was the fire handled?”

“The firefighters arrived quickly. They managed to put it out, but the damage was severe. The coffee shop won’t be operating for some time.”

I nodded. Good. That was exactly what I had wanted.

The coffee shop had been his main source of income, and without it, the boy would have another problem to deal with. I knew enough about the boy’s life to understand how much a single lost paycheck could matter.

I should have felt satisfied, but instead, before I could stop myself, a question left my mouth.

“Was he hurt?”

Victor looked at me. “Who?”

My expression hardened. “The boy.”

“He was there when the fire started. He helped get people outside, but as far as we know, he wasn’t seriously injured.”

I said nothing because I didn’t know why I had asked. I certainly didn’t care. At least, that was what I told myself.

If he had been hurt, perhaps that would have made the situation easier. Perhaps seeing the boy suffer would have given me the satisfaction I had expected when I started this.

Instead, I found myself remembering the video I’d watched yesterday.

The boy had been frightened. I remembered that clearly. He looked small standing outside the burning building, his face pale and his clothes covered in smoke.

He had every reason to panic, but instead, he had chosen to help others while his source of income burned away.

I frowned.

Why? Why would he do that? That bothered me more than it should have.

I hated that a single moment had managed to make me question something I had believed for eleven years.

I pushed the thought away.

Kindness did not erase Alan Pruitt’s crime or change who his son was. He was Alan’s son. That was all that mattered.

And I hadn’t spent eleven years carrying the weight of my father’s death just to start feeling sorry for the person I had finally decided to punish.

“Anything else?” I asked.

“No, sir.”

“Good.”

I got into the car and looked out the window as we pulled away.

This strange feeling in my chest was nothing. I pushed it aside and focused on the meeting ahead.

The meeting was about an upcoming event at one of the company’s hotels. I sat at the head of the conference table while my staff went through the details.

“If the event isn’t going to generate enough revenue, there’s no reason to keep the booking,” I said. “Go through the guest list again. I want to know exactly who is attending and what we’re getting from the arrangement.”

One of the staff members checked his notes. “The people organizing it were recommended by Ms. McCormack.”

My eyes lifted. “Layne?”

“Yes, sir.”

My jaw tightened.

Of course it was Layne. She had a way of appearing in every part of my life, even when I hadn’t asked for her involvement.

I leaned back in my chair. “Run the numbers again. I don’t care who recommended them. If the event isn’t profitable, cancel it.”

“Understood.”

The meeting continued for another twenty minutes before finally coming to an end.

I left the conference room with Victor following behind me.

“Sir, Ms. McCormack is on her way here.”

I stopped walking. “Tell her I’m not here.”

Victor gave me a look. “She already knows you’re in the building.”

“Then tell her I’ve left.”

“Where are you going?”

I turned toward him. “That new shopping mall that opened recently…”

Victor waited.

“I’m considering an investment there,” I added. “We’re going now. If Layne asks, that’s where I am.”

Victor nodded. “Understood.”

I continued toward the elevator. I had no interest in dealing with Layne today.

My mind was already occupied with something else, though I refused to admit exactly what.

A few minutes later, I was sitting in the back of the car while Victor sat in front.

The city passed outside the window, but I barely noticed it.

Victor reached for a tablet and handed it to me. “The property acquisition has been finalized.”

I looked down.

A photograph of a rundown apartment building filled the screen. My eyes moved over the details.

This was what I wanted. He had lost his job yesterday, and now he was going to lose his home.

I scrolled through the file and studied the building.

It wasn’t much. The place was old, rundown, and clearly in need of repairs. The boy had probably never imagined that anyone would go out of their way to take it from him.

Leaning back in my seat, I looked out the window, letting a slow, cold smile settle across my face.

“Let’s see where he runs now.”