Sage

Clarissa smirked, that thin, venomous twist of her lips that made my skin crawl. “Your father called. He asked me where I’d kept the recording. Said you might find out about it and told me to do away with it before you did.”

My breath caught. “He knew about the recording?”

“Why not?” She laughed then—a short, bitter sound that cut through the rain like glass. “That’s what I’ve used to threaten him all these years. To squeeze every last drop of money and luxury out of him. How do you think I got wealthy, Sage? Off my charm? No. That tape’s been my golden ticket. Your father’s dirty...