The Baby Pact (Babies and Billions #5) - Holly Rayner Page 0,42

the money’s source was if it had been obtained dishonestly.

He shoved the papers back into their file drawers and hurried out of the library, unable to bear looking at them anymore. Everything around him in this room felt like evidence of his father’s deception.

But when he had left the study, he found that he didn’t feel any better. Every room of the house held reason for sadness and guilt.

The living room was organized around his large flat-screen television, an indulgence that Zach had bought happily after opening his first catering company, a promise to himself that he would continue to strive for success. He had always enjoyed relaxing in this room on his plush leather sofa, watching a movie on one of the many streaming services to which he subscribed.

He had had none of those things growing up. Entertainment had consisted of watching a VHS tape on his father’s twelve-inch TV or reading one of the paperbacks he owned. Sometimes he had been able to get a new book from the library, but even that had been an infrequent pleasure—the library had been located across town, and his father hadn’t often had the time to take him.

I shouldn’t have this, he thought now, looking at the television. I don’t deserve it.

Zach had never thought that his wealth had been earned—at least, not all of it—but there was a difference between a lucky break and theft. He could rejoice in the idea that his father had won the lottery. That had been something to celebrate, something to feel happy about.

He couldn’t feel happy about the idea of taking advantage of Rhea’s family. That felt horrible.

He went into the kitchen. Here he was surrounded by top-of-the-line appliances, one of the most important things he had told his realtor he was looking for in a home. He had to be able to cook. And though his kitchen was not as spacious as Rhea’s kitchen, he had become fond of it since moving to Baltimore.

Now, he felt ashamed of it.

Working in the kitchen had always filled him with pride. It had always made him feel good about what he was doing with his life—that he had a quantifiable skill and that he was using it, not only to earn money, but to help do his part for the environment.

But how could he feel proud of his cooking now? In order to cook, he would have to stand in this kitchen he never could have afforded without the money from his father that had enabled him to get his start.

He couldn’t do it. It had been ruined for him.

He felt a surge of anger at his father, just thinking about it. How could he have done this? Hadn’t he realized that his actions were doing more than hurting Rhea? He had had dinner with Rhea’s family. He had known that she was Zach’s friend, for God’s sake. He must have known that there was a chance that Zach would find out about this someday, and that the knowledge would hurt him.

Maybe he just didn’t care.

That didn’t sound like the man Zach had known. Lincoln had spent his whole life doing whatever he could to give Zach opportunities, to make sure that Zach was happy. He wouldn’t have done something like this without considering how Zach would feel about it.

Maybe he thought I would support it.

That was a horrifying thought. But Zach had to consider it. Was it possible that his father had done this terrible thing on the assumption that Zach would also think it was a good idea?

No, he couldn’t have. If he had believed that, he would have just told me what he was doing.

Zach sighed and climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

This room was as luxurious as any other in the house, with expensive bedding, a mounted television, and a door to a balcony that wrapped around the house. But the luxury of the room felt a little less obvious than it did downstairs. The TV was smaller, and while it was off, you couldn’t see all the features it offered. Expensive bedding didn’t look any nicer than the cheap stuff.

Zach flopped down on his bed.

He had never for a moment stopped wishing that his father was still alive. He missed the man every day, and every day he wanted to know what his father would think of his life choices. One of the hardest things about losing a parent, he’d discovered, was the inability to know whether your parent approved of