Page 172 of Burning Daylight

I scoff, slouching deeper in the chair across from him. “I don’t care about the feud. Let them fucking kill each other and bleed out in the streets as long as they leave Juliette and me the hell alone.”

It sounds crass, but I mean every word. Juliette might feel differently, but that’s because she loves deeply, even those whodon’t deserve it. Not that she’d admit that fact, because the guard she holds around herself is ten thousand feet tall and made of stone.

Frederick looks battle worn and weary. “When I first came to this town twenty-five years ago, I thought I’d stumbled into an old money type of elegance.” He laughs. “But what I walked into was a war masquerading as civility.”

He leans forward, elbows braced on the edge of his desk. “Every day since, I’ve had to play diplomat. Remember I told you that being a master of the game meant you controlled it, and that’s true, but it’s goddamn tiring. It’s never-ending. Bribes. Council seats. Land grabs. Calloway and Montgomery both using people as currency.”

“So, you’re tired,” I deduce. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“This isn’ttired, this is bigger than that. I’ve prayed for something to end it. Maybe not with fire, or blood, or a handshake. But if it comes because of love…” He smiles faintly. “Who am I to stand in the way?”

I cross my arms, grinding my teeth. “So you’re saying my father is just as corrupt as Craig Calloway, and yet somehow, you think Juliette and me are the answer?”

His eyes narrow. “Don’t insult either of us by pretending you didn’t already know that.”

I don’t answer, because he’s right.

“Both of your families have built empires on exploitation,” Frederick says. “You think that money grows from honest soil? Wake up, Roman.”

I rake a hand through my hair. “None of this shit matters to me, Frederick. I’m not asking about morality, I’m asking if you can help me and Juliette disappear.”

Frederick nods, and there’s something almost too smooth about the motion. “It’s what I’ve wanted since I’ve seen thatpicture of the two of you together. The son of a Montgomery and the daughter of a Calloway. Two houses alike in dignity, bound by legacy, divided by greed. What better way to end a blood feud than with the two children theyneedvanishing from the board entirely?”

“You make it sound so tragic.” My chest tightens.

He pauses, eyes gleaming. “Sometimes, the world needs a little tragedy to move forward.”

My brow furrows.

“Besides,” he continues. “You’ll be safer if you’re away from here. I don’t know what Marcus was thinking allowing you to stir up public outrage for the Calloways when they’re tied together with the Badon Hill Gang.”

My heart falters and I lean forward. “It was just me painting some conspiracies on the wall.”

Frederick looks at me like I’ve grown three heads. “He really didn’t tell you much, did he? Every painting you put up is a slap in their faces, and the Badon Hill crew? Those men don’t care who holds the brush.”

My stomach drops like a lead weight. “He told me that was done. That Brutus guy is dead.”

His face pinches. “He lied.”

A hollow ache blooms in my chest.

I had thought we were making progress, that in the end, my father had started to see me as something more than what he’s made me feel my entire life. But this? This is proof that even the good moments were built on bad intentions. He’s been using me, pulling strings behind my back like I’m a puppet in motion.

My thumb spins the ring on my finger like I can unscrew the past from my skin, but it still clings on.

Somewhere deep inside, that kid staring outside of a window looking in breaks all over again.

Because how could I have been so stupid to think that this time would be different.

I blow out a breath, beating down the hurt. “If I leave…what happens to my mother?”

Frederick’s face softens. “She’ll be safe. Taken care of. Your departure doesn’t change what’s already in motion for her.”

I study his face. There’s no hesitation. No flicker of doubt. Just a polished calm, almost as if he expected me to ask.

The words should comfort me, but they don’t.

Still…I’m done sacrificing everything for a woman whoexpectsme to always be there to pick up the pieces.