Page 62 of Even Robots Die (Even Ever After #3)

Florentine

A second later, dad enters the room wrapped in what looks like a dark red robe two sizes too small. At least it’s hiding everything, because I’m pretty sure he didn’t bother getting dressed under that thing.

I half expect Isabella to join us, but she doesn’t even leave the bedroom. That’s probably for the best.

“You need to go back to the girls. They’ve been trying to reach you for three days. They’re worried sick,” I tell him without waiting for him to say anything.

I have a feeling he isn’t even sorry. I don’t even think he will try to apologize.

Brice comes to my side, still keeping his distance but showing me that he’s here if I need him.

“I’m busy,” Dad answers, and I’m so shocked by what he just said that my mouth hangs open for a second before I school my expression.

“They need you,” I tell him with a sigh.

“It’s just for a few days,” he answers. “I have a plan and then I can come home. They have you anyway. It’s going to be okay.”

A plan.

I know all about his plans. Usually it’s just another scammer who knows exactly what he is doing, and Dad always believes them. He always pours more than what we have in the bank account into whatever new project he has found that he thinks will make him rich.

Unsurprisingly, it never does.

I’m not surprised either that it’s the reason why he hasn’t answered his holo in days or taken care of any of us.

I should have seen it coming.

True, it’s the first time he’s left for so long, but he has a habit of disappearing quite often.

Him being taken by the birds shouldn’t have been my first thought. Him being forced to do something against his will shouldn’t have been it, either.

Maybe I’m delusional, but I thought we were his priority.

I was obviously wrong.

I feel Brice getting closer to me and his index finger grazes the side of my hand. It grounds me. I look at Brice for a second, and with a nod of his head, I’m reminded of what he told me earlier today. I’m not their mother. I’m not their savior.

I take a deep breath.

“They don’t have me.” I take a pause for emphasis but also to steel myself—I hate confrontation.

“I’ve been away for weeks, working my ass off to pay the bills that you’re, once again, accumulating.

I can’t deal with their day-to-day life.

Sure, I can answer the holo when Elodie’s school calls because once again, she’s done whatever she wanted and it’s against the school’s rules.

Even if it’s completely useless, because she won’t listen to me once I get to reprimand her.

Yes, I can pay the bills for Amélie’s pets when they’re sick or something like that because it wasn’t in the budget.

I’ve done it and I’ll probably keep doing it. ”

From the side eye Brice gives me, he doesn’t agree with that last bit, but this is my problem. Maybe I should do with my sisters what I’m about to do with Dad, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. Baby steps.

“You don’t understand,” Dad says, “I need the money. I owe a big sum to the Terrier, and I only have a few days left.”

The Terrier.

The underground cartel led by the foxes here in Paris.

What is Dad trying to do by fucking one of them, anyway.

“How much?”

It surprises me that the question isn’t coming from me but from Brice. I have a feeling he’s asking more for me than anything else.

“Two hundred and forty-five thousand,” Dad says, and he at least has the wits to look sorry.

How did he spend that much money? How did I not see that one coming?

“When do you need it?” I ask him, switching to crisis management mode.

“Next week.”

“And you’re trying to gather the money by fucking some random chick?” I ask him in disbelief.

“Don’t talk about her like that. She’s the love of my life. It’s never been like this before,” he says with what I believe it to be puppy eyes.

It makes me want to puke.

“Like mom, and then Carmen, and Mary?” I ask, my tone rising. “How long have you been with her? Does she know about us? About the kids that you completely forgot during your sexcapade? Does she even care?”

“Of course she cares. She’s already so proud of what you make and of the girls’ results in school,” he says with a smile that makes him look like an idiot.

Because that’s what he is. An idiot. He fell for a woman who looks way younger than he is and I have a feeling she’s just here to make sure the Terrier gets back the money Dad owes.

I can’t prove it, so I won’t say a single word in this room knowing there is a high chance that she’s eavesdropping.

But I don't need to say anything, it seems.

“I’ll lend you the money,” Brice says, and I want to stop him.

If he does that, he will never see a single euro again.

“But I want you to pay your debts today and to go to Notre Dame right after. There will be a room for you there. You’ll be expected to give a hand for whatever Elhyor will need your help with.

You’re not to go outside without surveillance, and your bank account will be monitored starting now. ”

“You can do that?” I ask Brice.

“I can’t. Luc, on the other hand, can. You’re not the only one good with a holo-puter,” Brice tells me with a wink.

I’m shocked. Not by what he said about Luc. I've heard a bit about him. No, what shocks me is that damn wink he just threw at me like it was completely normal.

Who is this and what have they done to the Brice I know?

“Why do I need to go to Notre Dame? Can’t I do that from home?” Dad asks, as if he could still negotiate the terms of … his surrender?

“The birds attacked me when I came back to find you. The house is in no shape to be lived in,” I tell him.

“They’re going to pay for the damage, I tell you,” Dad starts to say, but I stop him mid-sentence with a raised hand.

“They’re not going to pay anything. Paris is at war. If you think you can get the birds to pay for anything, you’re delusional. The girls are already at Notre Dame, anyway.”

“If you need anything in particular from your house, I’ll send a team,” Brice adds when I’m done. “How long do you need for this to be handled?”

Dad looks back the way he came, and I have to wonder if he’s thinking about squeezing another fuck in before being stuck in Notre Dame.

“A couple hours,” he says. “Maybe four at the maximum, depending on when they can receive me.”

“Good. We will see you at Notre Dame in four hours, then,” Brice says as he brings his hand to the small of my back to usher me out of this—nicely decorated but, nonetheless— hell hole.

“What about the money?” Dad asks before we reach the broken door at the entrance.

“Florentine can take care of it,” Brice says, and then we’re out of the apartment and walking down the stairs.