Page 37 of Redamancy (Fated Fixation #2)

Chapter twenty-nine

“ P oppy Davis,” Edward stares down at me, eyes empty, from across the wooden desk in the study.

“From Mobile, Alabama. Lionswood scholarship student—where you met my son, I’m guessing.

Twenty-eight. You’re a struggling artist who just had her work in the Ars Astrum.

And now—” His expression darkens. “My daughter-in-law. Apparently.”

Folded in a green armchair, I clutch the glass tightly in my lap. “Yes. That’s me.”

And now I’d really like to leave.

“This must be quite an adjustment,” he says. “For someone used to living below the poverty line until…two days ago.”

I shrug, trying not to show how uneasy he makes me. “I think I’m handling it okay.”

There’s a beat of silence where I try not to squirm under his shrewd stare. “I wasn’t sure what the appeal was initially.”

I swallow.

“He’s never shown much interest in anyone,” he says.

“People, in general.” He pauses. “But then I dove into your background a little more deeply, and it started to come together.” His mouth curls.

“For an Alabama girl who grew up in a trailer park, you’ve done some…

unsavory things to get ahead in your life, Poppy.

I assume that darkness is what interested my son. ”

I don’t say anything.

“Understandable, of course,” he continues. “Unstable home life, financial insecurity…I’m sure you think you hit the jackpot with an Ellis.”

“Adrian isn’t just a gateway to other things for me,” I say quietly. “I love him .”

Edward Ellis chuckles like I’ve just told a joke and leans back in his chair. “Do you?”

“Of co—”

“He’s a monster,” Edward cuts me off sharply, and I feel it like a slice through my ribs. “Let’s not mince words or pretend otherwise. I know exactly what my son is, and so do you.”

“He has darkness, and I have darkness,” I say. “You seem to have played a particularly large role in the development of his though.”

Edward stiffens, his eyes narrowing. “Is that so?”

I tilt my chin. “Yes.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “There was nothing done to Adrian that wasn’t also done to me. Or my father. Or his mother. Or anyone else in the Ellis line,” he explains. “It’s not my fault he couldn’t handle it.”

Protective anger washes over me, and I lean forward, the whiskey still clasped in my hand. “He was a child,” I hiss. “He shouldn’t have had to handle anything, least of all being chained up like an animal in the basement.”

There’s no remorse in his eyes. “Well, he lived, didn’t he?

He’s grown on to live a charmed, privileged life with almost limitless access to anything he’s ever wanted.

There’s a cost to molding perfection. Besides—” He sets down his whiskey.

“You should be worried about yourself, not my son. Maybe I created the monster, but currently, he’s your problem. ”

He opens the upper-left drawer of the desk and retrieves a folder.

Oh, God.

Another fucking manila folder.

If I never have to see one of these again in my life…

He wastes no time flipping it open. “Less than a week ago, you spent hours in NYPD custody at the 114 th precinct in Queens,” he reads out. “Even briefly under arrest for the murder of a man that you—correct me if I’m wrong here—only knew for a few weeks and had zero motive to kill.”

I give nothing away.

“Then, not even a day later,” he continues. “You marry my son, and the charges get dropped. The case is buried, closed, and labeled a suicide. Even more, the detectives on the case are stripped of their badges and fired unceremoniously for their involvement.”

I open my mouth, but he silences me with a wave of his hand.

“I don’t care to hear whatever denial is about to come out of your mouth—we both know Adrian killed Thomas Palmer, and then, as it seems, framed you to coerce you into marrying him.

” His eyes harden. “Not that you seem like much of an unwilling bride.”

Dread curdles in my stomach.

“And you can think of me a horrible, unfit parent—but I’m also the one who’s been covering his tracks for years ,” he continues.

“I’ve silenced nosy reporters. I’ve kept stories out of the press.

I’ve closed investigations. I’ve controlled the reputation of this family, including Adrian’s, for as long as he’s been alive— ungrateful as he’s been.

” His fingers drum on the table. “But I’m done protecting him. ”

My breath hitches. “Done?”

“If I could release his most egregious transgressions to the press without implicating the rest of this family,” he says.

“I would. But I can’t. So I need a new story—something that’ll tear him down alone .

” His eyes gleam. “Which is where you come in. You’re going to go to the press and tell them what a monster your new husband is. ”

I go rigid.

“There couldn’t be a better candidate for it, to be honest. You’re just married. You grew up outside the realm of wealth and influence—if there’s anyone the world will listen to, it’s someone who appears to be just another honest victim of his schemes.”

My heart thuds. “…and why would you think I’d do that?”

“Because it’s your best option,” he explains. “And from everything I understand of you, you’re someone who’s done exceptionally well at looking out for their own interests and security.”

“I have plenty of security right now,” I retort.

“Right now,” he shoots back. “But who knows? Things may change in a year. Or two. Or five. A decade of pining and a couple of days of marriage mean nothing. If my son’s affections were to change, you’d have nothing.

Less than nothing—once the family lawyers got through with you.

” He downs the rest of his whiskey. “All of your current resources depend on him, and whatever goodwill he offers you.

“But I could offer you actual security,” he continues.

“You go to the press, and I’ll make you disappear.

My son will never find you. You can live the rest of your life in peace.

And—” He pauses. “You'll be wired five million dollars every month for the rest of your life. In a secure offshore account. That’ll buy you whatever protection I’m not able to give. ”

“You can say no, of course,” Edward adds.

“It doesn’t have to be you. I just need an outsider to do it.

You lend more credibility to the story because you’re married, but anyone with a reasonable enough connection to my son will do.

A co-worker. An old classmate. For five million dollars a month, someone will make him out to be the monster he is.

Or isn’t. Just depends on how much fabrication is involved.

” He takes another sip. “But you should know this offer expires in twenty-four hours.”

“I see.” My throat tightens. My fingers clench around the tumbler, still full. “And if I told you to fuck off? And let Adrian in on your plans?”

A supremely stupid thing to say, probably, but his dead eyes only consider me. “I’m not sure you’d get that far. My son is…temporarily out of commission.”

The entire world comes to a standstill. “What?”

“Or should be right about now,” he glances up at the old grandfather clock standing guard in the corner. “Assuming his mother did her job right.”

The color leeches from my face. “What—”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with anything but the clock on this offer,” he says. “Which has already started.”

My heart pounds.

Fuck.

Out of commission?

What does that—

Panic claws at my throat, and I just barely contain it long enough to look Edward in the eyes. “I don’t need twenty-four hours.”

What if he’s dead?

What if—

He lifts a brow. “No?”

“No,” I say, and I mask my shaky voice as a cleared throat.

“I don’t. The choice is obvious.” I take a deep breath.

“I’ve got to look out for my own interests.

If the ship is already sinking, why be tethered to it?

Self-preservation, right?” My fingers dig into the sides of the tumbler.

“I’ll do it. Whatever you want me to say, I will. I’ll expose him.”

Edward Ellis only nods, eyes empty. “A smart choice considering your situation.”

And he goes to rise from the chair, but I blurt out, “And I want a million up front.”

He pauses. “A million?”

“Just in case things don’t go as planned,” I say. “I need some sort of security up front.”

“Fine,” he agrees.

“Now,” I add, breath shaky. “I want the money now. Before I leave this room.”

Mild irritation flashes in his eyes, but he obliges. “Fine. I’ll write you a check.”

He takes his eyes off me long enough to crouch down and open the desk.

And that’s when I make my move.

I lunge.

And I slam the base of the glass tumbler full of liquid straight into his throat.