Shattered Dynasty by Ava Harrison
9
Trent
She’s curledup on the floor.
Head on what looks like a worn-out sweatshirt.
Sleeping tight after her nice, long walk.
I’m light on my feet as I move closer. A trait I picked up from the men I do business with.
Never let your enemies see you coming.
Or, in this case, hear you coming.
I’m standing a foot away from her before I speak.
Darkness bathes the room. Only a few slivers of light stream in from the window.
The very window she shimmied in through. Cyrus’s man, who loaded her furniture, was right. He predicted her point of entry through the window with a broken lock. I watched it in full definition on the large screen in my bedroom, my A/C on full-blast, and a thousand-dollar comforter sprawled over half my body.
I’m a sick bastard because my comfort only makes her discomfort sweeter. I felt like diving into hell just to take a victory lap around my father.
How’d that secret trust work out for you, Father Dearest?
“Isn’t this cozy?” I scold, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“What the—” She sits up abruptly, and that’s when I notice her big mistake.
She hasn’t realized it yet.
But I can’t wait until she does.
My lips spread wide.
But she will. Because I am currently fishing my phone out of my pocket to show her.
“What are you doing here?”
“One could ask you the same question.”
“I live here!”
“No, Payton . . . You lived here. Past tense. Now you are trespassing.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She huffs.
My phone’s light flickers on, and I shine it on her.
“You ass—” She blinks, the new brightness making her squint.
“Hole,” I finish for her with a smile. “Yes. I am. And you, my dear, need to put clothes on.”
She looks down, and a loud gasp rings through the air. Her hands jet up to cover herself, and although I’m an ass, I’m not big enough of an ass to watch, so I turn and give her a moment of privacy.
However, I’m not above using the moment—any moment, really—to taunt her. “I’m not here to collect you next. Don’t fear. You’re not up to my usual standards, though I am impressed,” I chide.
“Shut the fuck up.”
She’s a mouthy one. Even half-asleep.
Too bad she’s dealing with me.
“Not likely.”
I walk around the room, taking in the empty space I left for her to find. The men I sent to empty it did a good job. There is not one thing in the house but Payton. Even the art is gone.
“Then get gone,” she snarls.
“Again, not likely.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Would you like the long answer or the short one?” I ask. She shimmies to put her shirt back on, so I keep talking, “Short answer. This is my house. I own it. So yes, dear sweet Payton, you are, in fact, trespassing. And, as you’ve noticed, you have zero possessions here. No reason to return. As for the long answer . . . I really don’t feel like telling you.”
“You are such an asshole.”
“We’ve gone over this already. Nothing new here.”
“Let’s add creep to the list then. You came in like a creeper while I was asleep. What is wrong with you? Also, can you stop shining that flashlight on me?”
“Sure thing, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Oh no. You don’t like that? It seemed fitting. I mean, who else was left an inheritance so large she can buy a small country?”
“I don’t think I can buy a small country,” she mutters.
“Oh . . .” I pretend to sound sorry, drawing a hand to my chest. “Twenty-two mil is not enough for you . . . your highness.”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it. I just meant—”
“I think you mistake me for someone who gives a fuck.”
“What I am trying to say is—”
“Again, doesn’t matter. All that matters is you’re in my house, and you need to leave.”
“What? Are you serious? I can’t leave. Do you know what time it is?”
“It’s 3:02 a.m. I’m sure you can crash on your friend’s couch. What’s her name again? Oh, yeah, Heather.”
Her eyes widen. I also don’t miss the way her jaw trembles. “How do you know her name?”
I won’t dignify the question with a response.
She looks pathetic.
Huddled on the floor like a little mouse.
As if she can hear my thoughts, she lowers her hand, straightens her sweatshirt, and stands.
Rising to her full height.
She’s still smaller than I first thought. Now barefoot, I peg her at five foot three.
I’m still almost a full foot taller at six-two.
“I will see you out,” I offer, though it’s more like a warning.
Her arms cross over her chest. “I’m not leaving.”
“What part of ‘you are trespassing in my house’ did you not understand?”
“All of it, I guess. But you are the one not understanding. It’s three o’clock in the morning. You will not tell me to go out on the street at night.”
“You have two choices.” I hold up a finger. “Stay and get arrested.” I hold up a second finger. “Or leave.” I point the two fingers at the door, highlighting her only real option, though watching her get arrested could become a fun memory.
Her eyes narrow, and she rights herself even further.
“I can’t believe you’re his son. You’re nothing like him.”
“What do you know about my father? You think he was a saint,” I grit out. “He was a monster.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Never compare me to that man.”
She shrugs. “Feels the same right now.”
“I don’t care what you think of the great Ronald Aldridge. The real Ronald sold his daughter to the Russian mob.”
Her eyes go wide.
With only my phone for light, it’s hard to see her face clearly, but I can see the shock. She didn’t know. Ever since I found out about Payton, I pondered her involvement in this mess. Wondered if she’d known about what my father had done to Ivy.
Did Dad tell her? If he loved her so fucking much, if they were the family he chose, the one he really wanted to be with, did he protect them from the truth? From us. Were we the other family? Or were Payton and Erin?
At this point, the answer wouldn’t do me any favors.
But it’s obvious right now she didn’t know about the Russians.
Good.
She should see the truth.
Feel it, too.
That’s what I want.
I want her to feel fear. Feel helpless.
To feel it, even if it’s a small sliver of what Ivy and I felt . . . Hopeless. I can’t make him pay. When I’m done with her, she will have assumed that emotional debt for him and her part in Ivy’s misery. Even if I now know she didn’t know that he sold her to the Russians, I will make her life hell until I find the proof that she knew about us, and then I will take all the money away from her.
Are you watching this, Dad? The illusion you crafted is crumbling. Your favorite “daughter” is about to see you for who you are. This is just a taste of the ugly and cruel world you made me create from the broken pieces of your shattered dynasty.
After I burn his legacy to the ground and force her to realize the evil of the man Payton idolizes, leave her poor, then, and only then, will I walk away.
“I—” she starts, but I stop her.
“Don’t want to hear it, princess. Get out of my house. Go somewhere. I can’t stand to look at your face for another second.”
“I have no place to go . . . you took everything.”
“They were never yours to have.” I stalk toward her, enjoying the emptiness of this place. “And frankly, not my problem. Leave, Payton. But know this isn’t over.”
“I have nothing left for you to take.”
“That’s what you think. It wouldn’t be fun to just tell you my plan, now, would it?”
She doesn’t respond, and I’m happy about that.
Instead, she storms out of my house.
The house I bought just to fuck with her.
Mature? No.
Fun? Hell yeah.
She is right about one thing; I am a dick, but I’m not about to let this girl walk alone at this time of night. I wait a minute before heading out. As soon as she has a reasonable head start, I follow her.
This neighborhood is safe, but you still can’t be sure.
After what happened to my sister, I wouldn’t do that to anyone, even if I hate everything she stands for.
She walks in the direction I expect her to—toward her friend’s place—and knocks on the door.
Her body is pressed up against it as if she is afraid.
A few seconds pass, but then it opens, and she throws her arms around her friend, holds her, then pulls away.
A single moment of weakness.
Because once she’s a few feet away from her, Payton stands straight. Her actions make her uncomfortable.
Interesting.
I file that away in my brain.
Another thing I have learned about Payton.
She doesn’t want to appear weak in front of her friend, not just me.
Good to know.
This I can use.
I smile to myself as I watch the door close.
Soon, she will be exactly where I want her to be.
Begging for mercy.
Unfortunately, she won’t get that from me.