A good question, Santiago thought, and one that hadn’t been answered. The forensic accountants had barely started with Paulo’s accounts. Hanna had given permission for them to go over everything, but based on the lack of excess cash in any of their accounts, Paulo must have stashed it somewhere else. Or spent it, but on what?
“He lied,” she said, her voice shaking. “I can’t get over that. I’ve worked my ass off and he’s done this to our family. I don’t think I can stay with him.”
“Don’t make any rash decisions,” he told her, aware of the ironic nature of his advice. Right now he was the king of rash decisions. “Think things through.”
“I have. I’ve thought about it a lot even before this happened. He’s different now. He used to be determined and driven. Now he’s angry all the time. Bitter. He blames you for being successful, as if because of that, he couldn’t be successful, too. He won’t try. What he doesn’t see is that you worked hard for everything you had. He was never willing to put in the effort.”
Santiago wondered how much of that was his fault. Had he given his brother too much, not made him work for things? Was the problem a character flaw, circumstances or both?
“Whatever you need, I’ll be here for you and the kids,” he told her. “Mom will, too. You’re family.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” She sucked in a breath. “Okay, I’ve kept you way too long. You need to get back to work. Thanks for stopping by.”
“You’re welcome. And if you want me to take the kids this weekend, just say the word.”
“You should run that by Callie,” she chided. “It’s her weekend, too.”
“She’d be okay with it,” he said, telling himself it wasn’t exactly a lie. At this point he didn’t think she gave a damn about him. Not that he blamed her. “Let me know what you’d like to do.”
“I will.”
He walked to his car and got inside. Halfway down the street, he pulled over, mostly because he didn’t know where to go or what to do. A case could be made it was a weekday—he should be at the office. But he hadn’t gone to the office since Paulo was arrested. He hadn’t wanted to see anyone—mostly Malcolm.
Humiliation burned hot and bright. His brother, he thought grimly. His own brother had been the thief. Paulo had set up an innocent man, blackmailed another employee into helping, and Santiago had no idea how long it had all been going on. Weeks? Months? Longer?
He still couldn’t wrap his mind around what he’d learned, mostly because every time he got close to accepting it, he had to deal with what he’d said and done to Callie.
He’d rejected her for being used by his brother. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but he’d totally gone off on her. He didn’t know why or what it meant beyond the fact that he was a total asshole. Him! The guy who was always the hero.
His phone buzzed. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Warehouse. Now.
The text came from Malcolm’s phone. Santiago thought about ignoring it, then told himself he might as well face whatever it was. He would deal and then figure out his next move.
He drove to the warehouse and parked, then walked inside. Malcolm was waiting for him. His friend raised his eyebrows when he saw Santiago’s jeans and T-shirt.
“Casual Friday?”
Santiago flipped him off. “What do you want?”
“Later we’ll talk about your attitude but for now, you need to see something.”
Santiago followed him through the warehouse. “Why aren’t you pissed at me about Callie?”
“Trust me, I am. I’m trying to decide if I want to beat you up with a two-by-four or just fire you.”
Malcolm spoke so casually it took Santiago a second to realize his friend wasn’t kidding.
“About time you stood up for her,” he grumbled.
“Why wouldn’t I? She’s my sister.”
“You didn’t think that before.”
“Now I know better.” Malcolm looked at him. His blue eyes were cold and determined. “When this is over, you and I are having a talk.”
“Anytime, anywhere.”
They walked into the large lunchroom. Santiago stumbled to a stop when he saw Callie at the front of the room with about thirty employees gathered around to listen. Pain and longing and feelings he didn’t dare define twisted together inside of him. She was so beautiful, he thought sadly. So funny and smart and easy to be with. She was...perfect and he was just the jerk who’d blown it all. Not just with her but with his brother and who knew where else. He wasn’t a hero—he was a disaster. He’d ruined everything.
Callie began to speak. “Thank you for coming to the department meeting,” she said, her voice strong, her gaze steady. “I know it was mandatory, but I appreciate it all the same. There have been a lot of rumors going around and I thought it would be better for everyone to clear them up.”
She hesitated. “Let me start with a few facts. First, I am Malcolm Carlesso’s half sister. I found that out a few months ago and moved to Seattle. The decision not to tell anyone was mine.”
He heard a few gasps and some murmurs. Callie ignored the interruptions and kept talking.
“Some of you have also been talking about my past, wondering if I really am a convicted felon. The answer to that question is also yes.”
The gasps were louder this time. She ignored them and went on to briefly outline her past.
“I didn’t want people judging me based on a few facts they might or might not understand. But that was a mistake. I got trapped in the lies and they weakened me. They allowed Paulo to try to use me. Hiding from who you are never works.”
She gave a slight smile. “Some of you are going to think worse of me now and some of you are going to think better of me. Either way, I’m the same person.” She seemed to search the audience. “To my friends, I’m sorry I lied. I was afraid. I should have trusted you more.”
One woman broke free and ran toward Callie. Santiago recognized Frankie as she hugged Callie.
“I’m sorry, too. I was upset with some stuff with Levi. You were so good to me.” Frankie put her arm around Callie and turned to the audience. “She’s the one who got the leave policy changed. She made it possible for me to be with my boy when he’s having treatments.”
Callie ducked her head. “Anyone would have done that for you.”
“It wasn’t anyone. It was you.”
Santiago turned and walked away. He felt sick and angry and sad and confused, all at the same time. He had to do something—he just didn’t know what.
He heard footsteps behind him, then Malcolm caught up and grabbed his arm.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
Malcolm stared at him. “You were wrong. You hurt her and I can’t let that go. Neither should you.” He shook him. “You don’t always get to be the hero, Santiago. You don’t always get to save the day. Sometimes you just have to let life happen and then pick up the pieces. That doesn’t make you wrong or bad—it makes you human. Paulo made his own choices and he has to live with them. You’re going to have to do the same. You want to have to deal with everything with or without Callie?”
“I hurt her.”
“Yes, you were a total idiot. So what? You just going to walk away because you made a mistake? You’re one of the hardest-working people I know. Why would you give up so easily now?”
Santiago looked away. “She was my princess and I let her down.”
Malcolm swore. “Get over yourself. What the hell is that? Callie’s not a princess—she’s a woman. Love her or don’t love her, but don’t be some dramatic shit who doesn’t take responsibility. Jesus, Santiago. I expected a whole lot better of you.”
chapter thirty-one
“I can’t believe Callie stood up to everyone she worked with. And went undercover!” Delaney picked up her glass of wine, then put it down. “I haven’t talked to her in maybe five days. How could all this have happened?”
“It’s been a busy week.”
Delaney sensed there were parts of the story Malcolm wasn’t telling and wondered what else had happened. She would text Callie in the morning to see if she wanted to get together and talk.
“What a scary experience. She’s impressive in so many ways. You’re lucky to have her in your life.”
“I am.”
They were in her small dining room, eating the takeout he’d brought over. For the first time in a long time, she felt comfortable in her skin. It had taken facing some demons from her past, but she was making changes.
Callie’s comments about her being responsible for her own happiness had resonated. Delaney was starting to see she’d allowed herself to get caught between two worlds, never truly committing to one. She hadn’t completely decided what she wanted to do next, but she’d talked to a few former work friends and was networking to find out about finance jobs that might interest her.
“You’ll have to check out the sponge painting in the bedroom,” she said, her voice teasing. “I think it came out really great. I’m going to tackle the bathroom next.”