think no one has a chance because of what happened? Come on, Russell. You’re supposed to be the smart brother.”
It felt good to experience irritation. At least it was something other than desolation. “You see this bank we’re sitting in? She could walk in here and withdraw enough cash to match the Yankees salary cap.”
Alec sat back in his chair. “Wow. We’re talking four zeroes here?”
“Four zer— ” Russell pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me do the talking in this meeting, okay? Seriously.”
“Fine by me.” Alec slid the cardboard insert from inside his collar and tossed it into the small, metal trash can. “Listen, Russell. I, uh . . .”
“What?”
“How was I supposed to know this thing with Mom was messing you up? You never say anything about it.” Alec lowered his voice. “You were the one who was home with her most, you were the one who found her. It makes sense that it would be on your mind more. But you can’t let it change your destiny, man. Your fate is divine.”
Russell sighed. “You’re not an actual ninja, Alec.”
Dammit, there was a reason they never spoke about it. There was never a good time to remember the day his mother—already addicted to prescription painkillers—had washed them back with a little too much gin. An accident, they’d called it. But Russell knew the truth. Had witnessed her depression, day in and day out. Brought her the tissue box in whatever room she’d chosen to cry in. The accident wouldn’t have happened if her marriage had been happy. If she’d been content with her house in Queens. Her children.
Russell.
He took a deep breath, working through the memory in stages. Only now, the disturbing images he’d harbored since childhood were laced with visions of Abby, fleeing from him. The realization on her face that she’d gotten into bed with the wrong man. One who could never make her happy. Leaving her alone had been the right thing to do.
But God, it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.
“Mr. Hart?” A female secretary approached the waiting area. “Follow me, please.”
ABBY STOOD OUTSIDE the door of her parents’ Park Avenue high-rise residence, the heels of her sandals sinking into the plush hallway carpeting. It was Friday morning, and she should have been at the office, but that would have been a waste of the full head of steam she’d woken up with. Late last night, she’d finally reached a solution that would make her father’s life work amount to something. A lot of something. Not to mention, her idea would save her own sanity in the process. The thought of sitting behind her desk in the silent office made her stomach turn. No, it was time to go see her father.
Her confidence had wavered slightly downstairs when the doorman hadn’t even recognized her face. Or name. Rightly so, since she’d only been to the co-op once for a housewarming party. But it wasn’t normal to feel like a stranger going to see your own parents. Since returning from the Hamptons, she’d felt like a stranger wherever she went. Even in her own apartment, despite Honey’s and Roxy’s attempts to raise her spirits. She’d found herself on the beach in Southampton—found her voice—and now she felt stripped of it.
Like it had never existed at all.
Today, she would get it back, albeit in different manner. She wouldn’t be the footstool propping up her father’s company anymore. A footstool who’d already been divested of one leg, thanks to Russell. The remaining ones were starting to creak, the fabric wearing thin. If she didn’t do something proactive now, she wasn’t sure how long those legs would hold her.
She raised her hand to knock, wondering why her stepmother hadn’t opened the door yet since being that the doorman had rung the apartment to check if Abby was welcome. But it dropped by her side. Why had she gone and thought of Russell? She’d managed to cast him out for the entire morning, sending him to a far corner of her mind, where he couldn’t be as effective. Every time she broke free for a few minutes, a reminder of him would drag her back into the trap. Getting ready for bed last night, she’d refused to go through her nightly routine of checking all the locks. The way Russell always reminded her to do. Then she’d lain there wide-awake for hours, until some responsibility forced her out of bed to complete the task, hearing his voice the entire