Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Math was ruthless.
Like me.
I nodded. “You have my attention.”
“Good.” Wallstreet cleared his throat. “Let’s start again. How much do you know about me?”
I sighed, preparing myself for a recital. “Everything?”
He linked his fingers again, his knuckles turning white as he squeezed. “Everything.”
“You were incarcerated a while back for white-collar crimes. You skimmed the books on your Fortune Five Hundred company and hid cash in offshore bank accounts. You were only caught because your whore at the time reported you to the tax office, where they audited you and found you fraudulent of not paying taxes.” I took another breath, continuing, “You made your first million before you’d turned twenty-three, had a portfolio of over fifty properties including hotels and commercial investments, along with your chain of highly successful trading companies and investment firms. Not only did you get done for tax evasion, but you’re currently being investigated for negligent trades on behalf of retirees rumored to be worth over eight hundred million, but I happen to know you’ll never be convicted because your bookkeeping skills are impeccable. Not to mention you have politicians and a lot of contacts in your pocket that are above the law.”
Wallstreet smiled broadly. “So you’ve followed my career.”
I never took my eyes off him. “Yes. It’s prudent to know my enemies.”
“I’m your enemy?”
I shook my head. “No, not right now. But you never know how the future will change. Those you hold most dear are the ones that strike the hardest.”
Wallstreet laughed, slapping the table. “Your father really did a number on you, didn’t he, kid?”
I bristled. “I’m not a kid.” The court system didn’t try me as a kid—they’d given me the maximum sentence for the coldhearted crime I committed. I hadn’t been a kid since I was ten years old and started receiving daily beatings and lessons from dear old Pop.
My heart hung heavy, disobeying my strict orders not to feel despair or truly think about what my future meant. There would be no twenty-first birthday celebration or finally losing my virginity to Cleo. I’d wanted to wait until I was legally an adult. I’d wanted to make sure it was truly what she wanted.
My heart fisted in agony.
I should never have waited.
Wallstreet narrowed his eyes. “What’s my real name? Have you managed to work that out yet?”
I nodded. “Your power of attorney kept your name suppressed in every newspaper article. But I already knew it.” I decided to share a tiny sliver of where my passions lay. “I’ve wanted to trade since I was nine years old. You were like a god to me.”
Wallstreet’s face darkened. “Were? Past tense?”
I grinned, enjoying the slight anger glowing in his eyes. He was used to maintaining respect and didn’t handle my teenage look of disdain. “Past tense. You had so much. More than I ever dreamed—but you lost it all. You’re as penniless as me, but I’m better off ’cause I have youth on my side.”
I didn’t believe my words. My age only condemned me to live longer inside these shit-stained walls.
Wallstreet’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think I lost it all?”
“The newspaper articles. Magazines.”
He shook his head. “You said so yourself… my bookkeeping skills are impeccable. Don’t you think I hid things? Only gave up what I could afford to lose?”
My heart slowed—it always did when something huge attracted my attention. I could sit in a room with no food or distractions for days while chewing on an elusive equation.
My voice dropped, hiding my eagerness. “Gonna share with me?”
Wallstreet leaned closer, his voice dropping. “That depends on you.”
“Me?”
“I know as much about you as you do about me. I know what you want when you get out of here, and I also know you don’t stand a chance unless you somehow manage to afford a lawyer who gets you a parole hearing before you’re fucking seventy.” He sighed. “We both know that won’t happen. Not after what your father made you do. Not to mention the testimony he submitted painting you as the villain.”
My hands clenched; my heart thundered in my ears.
“Yes, Officer. I saw the whole thing. He’s no son of mine. I loved the Price family as if they were flesh and blood.”
Handcuffs settled icy-cold and final around my wrists. My heart didn’t beat and nerves didn’t clog my blood. Ever since my father had dragged me into Cleo’s house, I’d been dead inside. Destined to hell for what I’d done.
I’d obeyed my father because of threats he’d made toward the girl I loved with all my soul. I’d agreed to do what he wanted to protect her. To prevent her from being raped and murdered right before my eyes.
And this was how he repaid my loyalty.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Arthur Killian, before we take you into custody?”
I looked down at the floor, my hair reeking of smoke, my hands covered in the charred remains of Cleo’s house. I’d combed through the wreckage once it had burned to the ground and cooled.