Chapter 68: Emotional manipulation

Ivy’s pov

"If you had been a proper wife, Harper, he would not have been forced to look elsewhere. Also, Angel’s just exhibiting youthful exuberance, it’ll be over soon."

My father might as well have thrown acid at me. The words burned holes into my skin, eating deep, filling up every cell of my body with agony.

If I had been a proper wife? So a woman had to be a proper wife for her pathetic disgrace of a husband to keep it in his pants?

How long had he known? I had tried, I had tried so hard. Just because I couldn’t have children did not mean he could go on ahead and have sex with my fucking brother! Why would he blame me? I was the victim here.

"No... No da-father, I did my best. How can you... How can you say that?" I cried, the tears I had been fighting finally breaking free and tracking hot paths down my cheeks.

Father’s face scrunched up in disgust, his eyes narrowing at the tears slipping down my face. I wiped at them hurriedly with the back of my hands, clearing my throat. "I tried my best...I did everything he asked. Why are you defending them? Jake slept with my husband, and you knew. You knew all along?"

"It is not my business to meddle in the... dalliances of youngsters," he waved a dismissive hand. "A man has needs. It is your duty to fulfill them."

My mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. When I finally found my voice, it was broken.

"How can you say that?"

He sighed, a deep, weary sound that seemed to suck all the air out of the room. Father walked to his seat and dropped into his massive leather chair, rubbing his face wearily.

"You still don’t understand," his voice was muffled by his palm. "And somehow, I feel it’s because you didn’t have a mother growing up. Leticia would have made you sensible."

I stiffened, tears burning the corner of my eyes. The mention of my mother always made me feel like the worst sinner on the planet. Guilt and pain surged higher in my chest like a tidal wave. I shouldn’t be reminding my father of what he lost because of me.

"I’m sorry," I croaked, wringing my hands together even though a voice in my head screamed at me.

Why are you apologizing for saying the truth?

"Your apologies cannot do anything. They cannot change the past. They cannot bring Leticia back." He leaned forward, his eyes pinning me in place.

"All I ask is that you be the perfect daughter and still... Maybe... maybe I should have let the cops take you away that night, I should have told the truth to everyone."

That was the final straw, and it brought the camel down on his knees. A raw and agonizing sob tore from my throat as I dropped to my knees on the plush Persian rug, the fibers rough against my skin. I clasped my hands together, rubbing them frantically.

"I’m sorry," I rushed out desperately. "I’m so sorry, Father. I’ll fix it. I will. I’ll be the perfect daughter for you, I swear. I’ll take Kingsley Industries to the greatest heights, you’ll see. Just... just trust me. Please?"

He watched me for a long moment with a blank look, then sighed, his tall frame unfolding from the chair. He crossed the room and stood over me before reaching down and helping me up from my knees while I sniffled.

"For that to happen, Harper, sacrifices must be made. The board will not look favourably on a woman who has divorced her husband and allow her to take over the company. If you will take Kingsley and Co to greater heights, you must be ready to sacrifice."

Angel.

He was talking about Angel. The thought of being tied to that man, of letting him touch me again, made me sick. But the company... my inheritance... it was everything.

Angel was not worth losing my inheritance over.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat feeling like a stone. I nodded, my gaze fixed on his brown leather shoes. "I will," I whispered.

"I’ll do it."

Father gave a low grunt and stepped away, moving back to his desk. He pulled open a drawer and took out a small, clear Ziploc bag. Inside it were three tiny, black, spider-like objects and three small, silver discs, no bigger than a coin.

GPS trackers and Listening devices. The lump in my throat was starting to feel even heavier than stone.

"I checked the files you sent me." He held the bag out to me. "The brothers are planning something big. I need you to find a way to plant these. In their offices, their cars... wherever you can."

I took the bag from him, my fingers trembling slightly. The plastic felt cold and heavy in my palm. Milo’s words were ringing in my head.

We are not so different.

Then Deon’s face, the day I found that man in their secret room. "Do you believe in Justice, Miss Harpley?"

I pushed the thought away. I was doing the right thing. I knew they were after destroying my father; I literally heard Roman tell my father that. It was either this or my family would be wrecked by them.

The only reason I felt remotely bad was that their best friend was a cruel person, and they had no idea. Betrayal from those we trust the most is the worst kind of heartache.

When I walked out of the study, the bag of trackers and listening device tucked safely in my purse, my head was spinning. I needed a moment and space to breathe. I headed for my childhood room, and as I got closer, I heard it.

A deep moaning.

A sick, revolting feeling climbed up my chest, bile rising in my throat. No fucking way. They wouldn’t dare! They wouldn’t dare to do that in my room of all places!

My teeth gritted hard against each other. I pushed open the door to my childhood room, my sanctuary, the one place in this house that was supposed to be mine.