“Wait. What? You don’t hold the . . . Then who does?”
“You do. I put sixty-two percent of the stock in your name when you were just a little girl. When I saw how much you loved it there, I wanted it to be part of my legacy to you, and part of your future. She was to be a gift to you on your wedding day. I didn’t mention it because, obviously, you didn’t marry someone I approved of, but it seems he already knew. The second offer, that time from another shell company between him and someone named Kiefer Rogan, was directed to you as the primary shareholder. But still, he didn’t give up. He just changed his tactics.”
“Dad, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that Tag tried to buy Chiara. And I’m saying that when his offer was refused a second time, he didn’t give it up. He found a way to get it anyway. By marrying for it.”
My head is pounding so hard I have to sit down and rest my head in my hand. I know what he’s getting at. The knowledge of it, the understanding of it is glaring at me, laughing at me, screaming at me like a living presence in the room. A cruel, vicious, inescapable presence that lurks in every dark, dusty corner.
“Are you absolutely certain about this, Dad? I mean, I know you don’t approve of Tag, but—”
“Weatherly, I would never make something like this up because I disagree with your choices. You’re my daughter, my child. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you. Even if that means protecting you from yourself.”
“Is that what this is? You think I’ve made a mistake and you’re trying to—”
“I’m not trying to do anything. These are the facts. I’m simply informing you that your husband had an ulterior motive for marrying you and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him worm his way into getting what he wants at the expense of my daughter.”
His voice is angry, but I know it’s not all because of me. William O’Neal is likely much more upset that someone has nearly gotten the best of him in a business deal and he never saw it coming.
He didn’t see it coming and neither did I.
Ohgod ohgod ohgod! How can this be happening? How can this be true?
I feel like a child who has walked outside her charming woodlands cottage and stumbled onto a bloody battlefield. Inside my bubble there was this surreal sense that all these unexpected things were working out so perfectly. But now I’ve been pushed out the door by my father, pushed out into a reality that tells me I’ve been a pawn all along. The realization is beyond devastating.
“Weatherly, listen to me. You cannot let on that you know just yet. You have to let me get together with Donald on this. Damage control is imperative.”
I feel sick. Literally sick. My stomach can’t decide if it wants to hurt or swim, and my chest feels tight with carefully bottled emotion. And I can hardly think past the black hole of devastation that’s sucking at my heart, threatening to pull me into weightless oblivion.
“I won’t say anything, Dad. But what am I supposed to do? I mean . . .”
I don’t know how to assimilate this information. Yes, my relationship with Tag began as a farce, but somewhere along the way, it became very real to me. I fell in love with him, with the way he looks at me, the way he laughs with me. The way he makes me feel. The way I can see our future in his eyes. A future spent raising our children between the rows of grapes at our favorite place in the world. And now, to find out that he was playing me the whole time just to get his hands on Chiara . . . I don’t know what I’m supposed to think, what I’m supposed to do. How I’m supposed to act.
“You keep your chin up. You’re an O’Neal. And nobody pulls a stunt like this with an O’Neal. He’ll pay, sweetheart. He’ll pay.”
Although he can’t see it, I give my father a watery smile. While I appreciate him championing me, I don’t want revenge. At least not yet. Right now, I just want to crawl into a hole and die. Only I can’t. I have a husband who I’m supposed to be making a new life with. Enjoying. Getting to know on a deeper level. That sounded a whole lot different ten minutes ago. Ten minutes ago, it sounded wonderful to spend more time watching Tag tease and care for his mother. Ten minutes ago, it sounded rewarding to see how Tag would introduce me as his wife to his closest friend. Ten minutes ago, it sounded exciting to see how my husband will manage the vineyard during harvest season. Ten minutes ago, I was deliriously happy to be a part of his future. But now . . . now it just sounds heartbreaking. It sounds like a list of things I’ll never get to see because he isn’t who I thought he was. He was just a dream.