Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Once we’re in the car, I turn in my seat to face my brother. “He’s one of Angelo’s men.”
Ryan pushes the ignition button. “I know.”
Does he know Roch has been shadowing me for the past two and a half years? Will it make a difference if he does? As there are too many things I can’t explain about the last thirty months of my life, I keep quiet. It’s unfair, especially as I’m going to demand answers from Ryan, but we’re going through enough as it is. I’m not going to load the secrets I locked away deep inside me on my brother’s shoulders as well.
We don’t speak for the rest of the drive. When we get home, I’m scared. I’m frightened to go inside, terrified that I won’t be able to handle the memories. The house doesn’t seem like home without my dad.
Doris, our housekeeper, waits on the front steps. Thankfully, she doesn’t greet me with meaningless words. She only pulls me in for a quick, bruising hug before ushering me inside.
Mom, Mattie, and Jared wait in the lounge. Jared stands in front of the window, staring out at the sea. Mom sits on the edge of the sofa while Mattie is reclining deeper on the seat next to her. I’m glad they’re not in the study where we usually have our family meetings. I wouldn’t be able to handle that. I can’t go there yet.
“Bella,” Mom says, standing when we enter. She crosses the floor and kisses my cheek. “I’m so happy you’re home.”
Like Mattie, she wears signs of crying. Her eyes are puffy, and the whites are bloodshot.
Ryan drops my bag on a chair and closes the door. “I think we can all do with a drink.”
“I’ll pour,” Jared says, already making his way to the wet bar. “Spritzers?”
“We need something stronger,” Mom says.
My gaze falls on the bottle of Scotch. That was Dad’s favorite brand. I have to look away lest I break down and burst into tears.
Instead, I focus my attention on Ryan. “Do they know?”
The question is loaded. I don’t have to explain. He understands I’m referring to Dad’s murder.
He nods.
Mom sits again, her expression forlorn and her gaze absent.
Walking to the sofa, I face my mom and my sister. “Did you know about Dad’s real business, whatever that was?”
Ryan answers. “They didn’t. Mattie only knew about the bribes. You know how Dad kept his professional and home lives separate.”
“To hide what he was involved in from us,” I say, unable to help the bitterness that slips into my tone.
Ryan’s voice is quiet. “To protect you.”
My words hold an accusation. “Yet you knew.”
“I’ve always been involved in the business.” His smile is patient. “Dad had to prepare me for taking over someday.”
Jared puts drinks in Mattie and my mom’s hands.
I cross my arms. “I’d like to know what exactly that business entails.”
“Bella.” Ryan observes me from under his lashes. “It’s better that you don’t know.”
“No.” I shake my head, declining the drink Jared offers me. “If I’m lying about Dad’s murder, I want to know why I’m doing it.”
Mom makes a choking sound.
I shoot her an apologetic look, but I stand my ground. No more ignorance. No more staying in the dark.
“She has a right to know, Ryan,” Mattie says. “She’s not a child any longer.”
I look between them—Mom, Mattie, and Jared. “You all know?”
Mom’s face is pale. “Ryan told us.”
I turn an expectant gaze on my brother.
He takes a gulp of his drink, rolling it in his mouth like Dad used to do, and casts a glance at the closed door before speaking. “Arms smuggling.”
I must’ve heard wrong. A single word slips off my tongue and bursts like a bubble in the air. “What?”
“Part of the business is bringing illegal arms into the country.”
My legs wobble under my weight. I plonk down in the nearest chair.
“The import and export business became a good front,” Ryan continues. “We make most of our money by facilitating shipments of arms. That’s where the bribes come in. We pay high-ranking officials and government employees to turn a blind eye.”
My mouth is so dry it’s difficult to speak. “How high-ranking are we talking?”
His tone is even. “All the way at the top.”
I can’t breathe. “As in…”
“Presidents and ministers,” he finishes for me.
“Weapons destined for where?” I ask.
“Zimbabwe. Angola. Central and North Africa.”
God.
Pressing the heels of my hands on my eyes, I rub away the dryness. The sting. No wonder Ryan said the truth couldn’t come out. The reality is much worse than I expected.
“Angelo?” I ask, dropping my hands on my thighs.
“Do not say that name in this house,” Mom says in a shrill voice.
“Sorry, Mom.” I look at Ryan again. “I have to know.”
“That’s part of their business, yes,” he says. “However, they’re more involved in clearing the way for us, so to speak.”